[NOTE: I make liberal use of swear words in this letter, and the word ‘croid’ is once again used, for which I have provided a definition* at the bottom. More on that later.]

Dear Olaf,

You know what I’m tired of seeing?

You. The goofy, gawking, aesthetic inconsistency known as Olaf, the jolly little snowshit, who has been amateurishly painted on the window of every café, patisserie, pizzeria, bookshop and butchers in the Western world for this coming Christmas. I for one have had enough.

You, Olaf, as an ulcer on the reputation of Disney’s character creators, have -since your meaningless, unexplained inception- followed me from here to Yuletide, and so I’m compelled to clarify my feelings for you, and the movie that gifted you to us.

Outside of cringe, Olaf is not entertaining, nor is he particularly funny. He’s a very poorly written character who stars in a poorly written film, which has been relentlessly commercialised to the point of becoming a global fetish. To say the very least, the plot of Frozen (clumsily inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen) is inconsistent, the characters’ motivations are spontaneous and unfounded, and (brace yourselves) the soundtrack is (discounting one or two brilliant moments, I’ll concede) a litany of inane pop songs, a collection of Christmas bubble-gum.

Out of a large crowd, I’ll name a few of the worst issues specifically: the presence of trolls is nothing more than deus ex machina (that is to say, what in the name of Christ do trolls have to do in the film unless it’s absolutely vital to hold up the plot? Were there or were there not plenty of moments when they could have helped, but nobody thought to visit them, such as when Elsa exiles herself? Is it only Elsa’s family and Kristoff who can see or interact with the trolls? Why? Were they not aware, or did they not care that Elsa’s parents were ruining her childhood through many years of solitary confinement? Why not? Where were they all those years?).

There’s an anti-immersive lack of cuts to the villain (I commend the attempt to make Hans a surprise villain, but the fact that we only glimpse a true insight into his character once at the very beginning of the film and again at the very end makes it feel unbearably false and contrived). Think back to other Disney classics, such as The Little Mermaid (also based on a book by Hans Christian Anderson), wherein we were regularly updated with what that crafty Ursula was brewing. It felt great, it felt consistent, and it felt real. This shit’s important, yo.

Of course, if you count Elsa as the villain (or anti-villain, rather) you must also concede that she’s the most half-hearted, capricious and least villainous villain in villain history. No character should ever be one hundred percent good or evil in such terms, but by God, they should never come out as a wet, dribbly mix of half-good, half-evil, as Elsa does. This of course is to say nothing of that shadow of a secondary antagonist: the Duke of Weselton. As a good friend of mine recently pointed out, the Duke is essentially characterised by greed, superstition and barely appearing in the film, (all fine qualities for a villain, bar one). Why, however, does Queen Elsa opt to block all trade with his kingdom at the end of Frozen, as punishment for his crimes? People may starve and lose their jobs because of that, you bitch. Why not just put him in jail, or give him a trial, or hang him or something, instead of pasting up ‘Boycott Weasel Town’ posters everywhere, you capitalist psychopath?

Thirdly (but by no means finally) Elsa’s transition from an exiled and wounded shite-sister to a free spirited, liberated but also kind-of-evil ice-diva is a flat mess of plot and character. It carries the suspicious feeling of something written solely in a desperate hurry to get to (and fit in with) ‘Let It Go’, and completely sacrifices the character’s integrity and believability. This is exactly what I mean when I say that the characters’ motivations are unfounded and inconsistent.

Were it not for the forced ubiquity of the Frozen phenomenon (a campaign which has dwarfed that of any and all other preceding animated features), I feel certain that -while still no doubt attracting some attention- the film would go down the same way as The Princess and the Frog (incidentally the most magnificent and underrated Disney film of our time): unrecognised and forgotten, a cultural non-icon.

I knew this letter wasn’t going to be long, but I felt it necessary to explain. It’s often said that kids will watch and enjoy virtually anything you put in front of them, and perhaps that is true. But that doesn’t free those who create these wonderful films from the bounds of character depth and humour, of talent and skill over quick and easy revenue flows.

I was also aware that this letter was going to be controversial, and so I’ll quickly counter the most obvious objections:

1. ‘But I like Frozen.’

Good for you. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s a ballstastic film, certainly by Disney’s standards. It’s a rushed, hucksterish Cabaret show.

1. ‘That’s just your opinion.’

Indeed it is.

2. ‘But you’re an adult. This is a kid’s film. It’s not fair to hold it up to the same standards.’

When I don’t have to look at Olaf’s rat-ugly face all day, and I can cease hearing ‘Let It Go’ from every audio outlet, then you can tell me that this movie belongs only to kids. As it happens, it is the forced property of anyone with eyes or ears, both of which I happen to possess.

3. ‘Of course if you compare it to other Disney films it might not be that good, but that’s a high bar. It’s an incredible film nonetheless.’

Even discounting the absence of that organic, captivating feeling we’ve come to love and expect when watching a Disney film, Frozen is just terrible. Of course it must be said that the animation is absolutely dazzling (it’s marvellous), but that doesn’t save it from weak humour, poor writing and plot holes.

4. ‘Every story has plot holes.’

Perhaps, but this right here is the Swiss cheese of plot.

5. ‘Olaf’s cute.’

No he’s not. He’s disgusting.

To conclude: Aladdin’s Genie, Mulan’s Mushu and Hercules’ Phil (or Philoctetes) would all think you’re a croid, Olaf, because you are. You are a snow croid. You don’t even look anything like a Disney character, and you’re about as funny as Tort Law. You are a shrill, frozen croidsicle.

Christmas love,

Hogan.

croid

/krɔɪd/

noun

* truly, croid is something of an umbrella term, and would take more than the following to define, however broadly speaking it’s a semantic synthesis of the terms ‘dweeb’ and ‘eejit’. I’ve always felt that, as an insult, the word ‘croid’ has a particular emphasis on ineptness, clumsiness, and a distinct lack of social competency.