I went to Disney on Ice and witnessed the evolution of the Disney Princess

BROOKLYN, NY — A tiny princess is wailing inside a giant plastic teacup. Her mother leans against it with one arm akimbo, mirroring the handle, and beams into the camera. The photographer waves a rattle behind the lens in a futile attempt to coax a smile out of the miserable toddler.

Zoom out, and you’ll see a sea of miniature royals, all pale pinks, blues, and yellows. Disney On Ice’s Dare to Dream show is about to start, and Barclays Center is packed for 11 a.m. on a Thursday. The entire pre- and elementary-school age population of New York seems to have skipped school to “celebrate what’s possible as five Disney heroines spark the courage inside us all.” Disney tells us we’re here “to find our inner hero.”

My seat is next to a woman named Tyra Brooks and her daughter Sanaa. It’s Sanaa’s third birthday, so Brooks and her husband, who live in Brooklyn, took the day off work to be here. Sanaa is obsessed with Moana, the lead character from the movie by the same name.

On my other side sit Stacy Cruz, 27, and her little brother, Wyatt, 9, who’s been begging to go to the show since he saw ads for it on TV. Cruz monitored tickets until she found these, which, at $15, she could afford. Wyatt skipped school in Manhattan, and Cruz took the day off from her two jobs nannying and working in retail. In front of me, Natalie Nunez from Queens and her daughters, Melinda and Evelyn, who are 4 and 9, cheer as the lights dim.

Our master of ceremonies is a relentlessly positive woman on skates in a purple figure-skating dress and a blazer. She seems adamant that nothing has ever gone wrong that can’t be made right. Happily Ever After is a destination, and this woman is on a mission to make sure we all end up there.

She announces Minnie and Mickey, and the place erupts. These kids scream for the two famous mice the way teens would react to Harry Styles, or whomever the Cool Teen Celebrity Du Jour is. Melinda, the 4-year-old ballerina in front of me, grips the armrests of her seat, sways her torso back and forth, and shakes her head so violently that I think there’s a chance she’ll launch herself out of her chair.

Minnie and Mickey leave, and the Beauty and the Beast segment of the show begins. Gaston, the blowhard who always made me uncomfortable as a child, shows up. He declares himself a handsome hero. None of these kids gives a shit about him, but they go nuts when Belle glides out onto the ice holding a book.

You know the rest of the story: At the end, Gaston falls off the set in dramatic fashion, the Beast takes off his Beast costume under a cloud of dry ice and turns into a handsome man, and Belle finds true love. She closes her books and glides around with her prince to a love song that sounds like a Belinda Carlisle B-side and definitely wasn’t in the original movie.

The kids get a real kick out of the lifts and spins that these skaters are doing. Most of the performers were professional figure skaters; some Disney On Ice dancers have been Olympians.

Cinderella’s story begins. She does her thing, and eventually the clock strikes 12. She skates away, thanks to the arbitrary curfew her asshole Fairy Godmother set. Our friendly MC — who’s been hovering at the edge of the rink while interjecting life lessons throughout the show — skates around to see if the glass slipper fits any little girls in the front row. It doesn’t. It also doesn’t fit the Ugly Stepsisters.

Did you know that in the Grimms Brothers’ version, the Stepsisters cut off their heels so the shoe would fit? My mom used to read me the original fairy tales, peeling back the layer of frosting with which Disney coats these mostly terrible stories. I loved them. They terrified me, but I was fascinated by the vivid descriptions, like the ones of the sisters’ mutilated feet bleeding all over the glass shoe. I couldn’t believe women would hurt themselves like that to be beautiful or loved. Or both.

Cinderella gets her prince. They dance around to another song that sounds a little bit like off-brand Tina Turner.

“No matter how mean, mean, mean everyone was, she was able to rise above bullying and bickering to be kind and hopeful,” says our MC. “She found her happily ever after, plus a cute new pair of shoes.”

“That’s bullshit!” I want to yell to the children around me. “Don’t just roll over when someone’s a dick! Stand up for yourselves! Buy your own shoes!” But I stay quiet.

We move on to Rapunzel from Tangled, a movie that came out after my childhood and one which I haven’t seen. Rapunzel is still pretty damsel-in-distress-y, but she does whack a dude on the head with a frying pan in the first scene, which the kids (and I) get a total kick out of. There’s also a horse comprised of two people — one for the front legs and one for the back legs. I’m not sure how they can see anything.

“There’s a horse with two people, and it’s working?” Cruz marvels beside me. “Pretty cool.”

Rapunzel is sassier than Belle and Cinderella, but the story still ends with her skating off into the sunset with a prince.

It’s intermission. I leave my seat and pass a guy hawking lemonade and sno-cones instead of the usual beers Barclays sells. The floor is sticky with various forms of spilled sugar. I wait in line behind tens of princesses to use the bathroom, then go buy some cotton candy. The man asks if I want one with or without a crown. I say with, but it’s too small to fit my head, so I go back to my seat and give it to Melinda. It falls over her eyes and she giggles. Her mom takes it and puts it on.

Someone starts a chant — Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! — as the lights go down, and, indeed, here comes Elsa from Frozen. I haven’t seen this movie either (I should babysit more, or, like, have a child if I want to stay up to date), but I think the gist is that Elsa’s pissed at her sister for wanting to marry someone she’s known for only one day. In retaliation, Elsa turns all of Norway or wherever into a hellish winterscape using her magical powers. Then she disappears, and her sister has to find her.

It’s finally time for “Let It Go,” the hit song from Frozen which I somehow know all the words to. The crowd of children is singing along almost louder than Elsa is through her mic. Melinda and even little 3-year-old Sanaa beside me know all the words.

Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone
Here I stand!

Frozen’s abridged version ends, and the MC spews a message about how truly loving someone means sacrificing everything you have for them, which, I mean, let’s all relax here, OK? Then Moana skates onto the stage, and the screaming is more intense than it’s been for the whole show.

I haven’t seen Moana either, but Google tells me it’s about a Polynesian girl whose grandmother has tasked her with saving her island and finding herself. The kids sing along to every word and dance in their seats. They — OK, I — take particular delight in a massive, sprawling crab with a sparkly shell whose costume seems impossible to skate in.

We meet a dude named Maui, who is not Moana’s love interest. I don’t think she has one, as far as I can tell. She’s just a determined girl who’s scared of the responsibility placed on her but willing to rise to the challenge. She overcomes her self-doubt as she sails around the ice rink on her motorized boat. Kids are screaming, “I AM MOANA!” as she sings, “I am Moana!” There are fireworks inside Barclays when she finally saves her island.

But hold on. I have to take you back to the first part of the show for a second, when Belle comes out and floats around the outer edge of the rink. She flips through the pages of her book, ignoring Gaston (and his puffed out chest) as he tells her he’s going to marry her. She begins to sing: “I want so much more than they have plaaaanned.”

Children are cheering, reaching toward the stage, and I, a full-grown woman, break down into sobs. I’m crying because these shows are money-grabs designed to make you feel. They are operations that strike at the core of your being with surgical precision: Turn the lights down here, crescendo up to a chorus and strike a soaring note there, insert a key change, spin some spotlights, make the heroines reach toward the sky with longing. Each element must’ve been focus-grouped and tested within a billion-dollar inch of its life to tug at specific ventricles of your heart. I am powerless against Disney’s execution of this emotional warfare.

But I’m also crying because I’m looking at all these little girls around me — earnest, excited, hopeful — and I want them to have more than anyone has planned for them. I want them to glide off into the bright lights with a prince the way Belle does, if that’s what they truly desire. But I also want them to throw an encyclopedia at the Beast’s head and start their own bookstore, if that’s what they’d prefer. I want all the Gastons of the world — because I know they’ll meet more than a few of them — to be taken down before they encounter them. I want this world to be more fair than it currently is.

And it must be said that Disney is, in its own way, changing.

Whether it’s because feminism sells these days or because it’s what Disney thinks is The Right Message, the company seems to be Leaning In. The 30-minute Cliffs Notes of stories and the order in which Disney On Ice chose to present them — from oldest to most recent— made Dare to Dream feel like a trip through the brand’s feminist awakening. We started with women whose only rewards are finding men, then moved on to a woman whose primary complication is her relationship with her sister, and ended with a girl who literally saves her entire people with the help of her badass grandmother.

“She persevered and never lost sight of herself,” says the cheerful MC of Moana, after praising Cinderella’s ability to land a man and new footwear an hour earlier. “That’s what inner strength is all about. Be yourself!”

The princesses come out to take a bow. The kids give all of them, especially Moana, big cheers, but save the biggest for Mickey and Minnie. Then the skaters disappear. Melinda is clapping. Sanaa grins. So do their mothers. They’re in the Happily Ever After for a moment. But then the lights come up.