A Little Princess
The original book by Frances Hodgson Burnett and the 1939, 1986 and 1995 movie versions of the story
Reviewed by Gordon Kearns
Please note: There are important plot elements (Spoilers) included in these reviews
A Little Princess
(The book)
By Frances Hodgson Burnett
Sara Crewe was born and raised in India. Her father was a well-to-do officer in the British foreign
service. After her mother died years earlier, her father doted all his love on the girl. He was a loving
and devoted father, and a respected military man; however, he was unskilled and disinterested in
financial matters - naturally wealthy, he never concerned himself with such mundane things. He never
stinted on any need or wish of his daughter, and employed a sensitive and caring native ayah to care for
her. When his friend, Carrisford, approached him to share a speculative investment in a diamond mine,
the captain agreed, trusting in the integrity of his friend.
The story picks up when Sara is seven. Following the typical practice of colonials, Captain Crewe
sends his precious daughter back to London to attend Miss Minchin's Select Academy for Young Ladies,
an exclusive boarding school. In true doting father manner, he makes sure she has her own luxury room,
personal maid, pony, and toys and clothes galore. Nothing is too good for his dear little princess. And
little princess she surely is. Having been brought up in affluent circumstances and indulged sinfully,
Sara feels herself a real princess; she carries herself regally, and she views the people around her with
the haughtiness of one born to the position. Haughtiness, yes; but certainly a benevolent haughtiness.
She is ever helpful to those who don't share her good fortune, and never by word or deed would hurt
anyone - or allow them to be hurt by thoughtless or insensitive boors. She is extremely intelligent and
quite perceptive to the human events in her little world. In the process, she befriends three particular
young ladies at the school: Becky, the much put-upon scullery maid; Lottie, the younger girl prone to
tantrums (for whom, Sara becomes a surrogate mother); and Ermengarde, who had an unbearably
demanding father, and a mental ability that couldn't keep up with his or the school classroom's
demands. On the other hand, she becomes the instant enemy of the spiteful Lavinia.
Four years pass, and then double disasters strike Sara. First, her father's investment in the diamond
mine sours, and he is thrown into bankruptcy. Second, her father succumbs to the ravages of "jungle
fever ." Sara, then finds herself a penniless orphan.
Because of the debts incurred for her school expenses, especially the elegant birthday party her father
had ordered for her, she is relegated to the category of a maid, scrubbing floors, going to market,
kitchen work, and tutoring the younger children. All her belongings, except her doll Emily, a few
books, and her plain black dress, are taken from her; and she is sent to the attic to live in stark poverty
next to Becky. Her life becomes harsh and forlorn; however, her basic princess spirit holds, even
though she experiences some low and bitter times. Particularly, her charity for and kindness to others
holds strong in her noble character. She remains close to Lottie and Ermengarde. And Becky becomes
her beloved fellow "Prisoner of the Bastille." Still, Lavinia continues as her nemesis.
Meanwhile, it turns out that her father's partner Carrisford, who also suffered from jungle fever, has
had a turn of fortune: the diamond mine had suddenly begun to pay off beyond all expectations. Feeling
guilty that his advice had led to his friend Crewe's bankruptcy and death, he sets out to right the wrong
by finding Crewe's daughter and giving her the riches her father would have earned had he lived. With
his Indian manservant Ram Das, he searches the world for her. Then he settles in a house in London,
coincidently next door to Miss. Minchin's school. After some plot twists, turns, and ironies, he finds
the orphan next door and finally rights the wrong he felt he did to her father. Sara takes her friend
Becky from her life as a scullery drudge and makes Becky her personal maid. A happy ending
well deserved by Sara, "The Little Princess."
A Little Princess
The movie versions
It would be impossible to translate such an epic novel into a movie meant for viewing in one sitting, or even two or more sittings, as with a TV mini-series. The book delves into the characters' thoughts, feelings, reactions, motivations, hopes, plans, etc.; movies must rely on the visible expressions and actions of the actors to communicate their inner beings. Voice-overs can sometimes help in a motion picture, especially in transitions; however, directors have to be sparing in the use of such "cheat devices;" overuse could be a turn-off for the viewer. It then becomes the job of the director to re-create the story to better suit the visual nature of movies. Often, the story has to be re-told markedly different than the original, like a musical variation on a theme. Thus, it becomes a new artistic creation, and can depart in major wise from the original. Hopefully, but not necessarily, the director will maintain the essentials of the story and the integrity of its characters. The movie West Side Story is a good case in point. Here, the classic story of the star-crossed lovers of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet is retold in modern Americanese as an inner-city tale of battling street gangs and ethnic conflicts. A significant alteration is the fate of Juliet, which differs markedly from Shakespeare's original ending, losing much of its tragic irony.
Frances Hodgson Burnett's novel A Little Princess, first published in 1905, has had several movie "variations," the most well-known being the 1939 (Shirley Temple), 1986 (Amelia Shankley), and 1995 (Liesel Matthews) versions. The three movies are only attached to the original story by the barest of plot threads. However, what is absolutely apparent from these significantly different approaches is that the character of Sara Crewe, as created by Burnett, has to be one of the most powerful in all literature, because as different as the three films are, the character of Sara shines through with untarnished brilliance. The 1939 version is probably the shallowest. Being made primarily as a vehicle for the wondrous Shirley Temple, it's her persona that must be emphasized. As one example, Sara's close friendship with Becky, Lottie, and Ermengarde, which tells much about her sense of love and loyalty, is not exploited. Even so, what there is left of Burnett's Sara gives the movie an over-riding intrinsic value not present in most of Shirley's pictures. Shirley's Sara maintains that original indomitable, persevering spirit, and it's thrilling to behold indeed.
The closest to the original story is Amelia Shankley's 1986 version. It stays with Burnett's basic plot line. As in the book, Sara's father dies after having gone bankrupt from the apparent failure of his friend Carrisford's speculative diamond mine venture. This throws the story into the whole involved subplot of Carrisford's search for Crewe's daughter, which in turn introduces the character of Carmichael, the lawyer who arranged Carrisford's purchase of the flat next to Miss Minchin's school, which in turn brought Carmichael's family into the story - including the young son who took pity on the poor girl, Sara, and gave her the sixpence, which Sara carried around her neck as a reminder of the depths to which she had fallen: a sort of full story circle in itself. By taking this approach the movie expanded to a daunting almost three hours; however, it probably suited its TV format. This version also mirrors the book's depiction of Sara's bitterness during the early period of her altered status; i.e., in answer to Ermengarde's, "How are you doing?" Sara snaps back, "How do you think I'm doing?" This is good, I think, because it establishes Sara as a real human, subject to real human emotions. Of course she softens to her friend, as she does when Lottie insists on needing her "mother." In re Sara's image as a "Little Princess": the book seems to have Sara as having sort of naturally developed or adopted a superior patrician attitude, especially towards others - while she loves them, she in fact looks down upon Ermengarde's dullness and Lottie's dependence; and she views Becky as a member of the Victorian working station. Sara in this version doesn't think of herself as a princess - or superior in any way - until she hears that the kitchen staff deridingly refers to her as "The Princess." She actually smiled at the thought, and used the concept as a means of maintaining a shred of dignity during the period of her despair. Later, when Miss Minchin sneeringly said to her, "You always thought you were a princess," Sara answered proudly, "No, I didn't; all I ever wanted to do was behave as one." A great line. In the end, though, this version still has her relationship reflect Burnett's Victorianism by benevolently taking Becky in as her personal maid. One of the assets of this version is the depiction of the depths to which Sara was thrown: you can actually feel her suffering as she struggles with the crushing harsh treatment and the heavy labor required of her. Even after she is discovered by Carrisford and returned to affluence, the bruise she received from a Minchin cuffing is still apparent on her chin.
I liked the Amelia Shanklin "A Little Princess" because it was in essence a thorough character study of Sara Crewe. I could accept the meanderings of the story lines because they brought me to a closer understanding of Sara. I recommend this movie to anyone who has the patience to probe the depths of a remarkable character. However, I also liked the Liesel Mathews "A Little Princess" released in 1995. Here the movie utilizes the natural strengths of the art of motion picture. It opts for a simpler story line similar to the 1939 movie, in which the father doesn't die, but returns with all memories of his Sara gone form his head. It makes no attempt to lay out the story as a narrative, chronological, beginning to end process. Rather, like most good movies, it builds its story through meaningful episodes. It utilizes images ... and the abilities of the actors to project character and feelings and motivations. Even dialog is minimized here. As an example: when Sara is first told of her father's apparent death and is left alone in her bare and cold attic quarters, crushed about her father's death, she uses an old discarded piece of chalk to draw a storybook imaginary protective circle on the floor, in which she cuddles up and sobs over and over, "Papa, Papa." Then the next day, she experiences the even more harsh reality of her own new existence: she must face as a serving girl her fellow classmates of the day before; she must mop the floors of the downstairs hall, only to have the mean-spirited Lavinia deliberately walk its length leaving behind her footprints; she must go out into the windy winter cold with only a threadbare shawl over her shoulders and trudge through the snow to the market, and then return carrying the heavy basket - being thoughtlessly pushed and shoved by passers-by along the way. Her spirit is at rock bottom when Becky asks her to tell a story because she so loves the magic. Sara answers softly, "There is no magic, Becky." Alone a few minutes later, without childish sobs or pouty mien, Sara stares ahead and, as a tear slips down each cheek, whispers, "Papa ... can you hear me ... I'm so scared." That simple image and those simple words are all that's necessary to communicate the depths of her lonely despair - and to underline her frail humanity. But she is Sara, and the next day begins the slow climb out of despair. In a fantastic, almost wordless sequence, we see her coming from the market again, cold and hungry and alone. A kindly boy puts a few coins in her hand. The boy is gone before she can return them. She enters the baker's shop and buys an iced cinnamon roll, and sits on the steps to enjoy it. But then she sees a destitute family of mother, baby, and two young girls trying unsuccessfully to sell roses to passers-by. The youngest girl catches Sara's eye, and Sara sees in her someone who is even hungrier and colder and lonelier than herself. She gives the cinnamon roll to the girl. In return the mother gives a rose to Sara. "For the princess," she says. Sara smiles for the first time in two days. That evening as she is returning to the school with her heavy basket, she sees in a window the man next door grieving over his missing-in-action son. She leaves the rose at his door. Later in the cold attic, in response to Becky's request, she does tentatively begin a story. Chapters in a book couldn't have told the story of Sara's character any better than this uncomplicated mostly visual sequence. Differing from the book and the 1986 film, Sara believes she is a princess - because all girls are princesses. She throws these challenging lines at Miss Minchin, "I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. Even if they dress in rags. Even if they aren't pretty or smart or young. They're still princesses. All of us. Didn't your father ever tell you that? Didn't he?" The dramatic images continue through the climax. Her father's denial that he knows her, allowing the police to start dragging her out, screaming in desperation for the first time, is one of the most heart-wrenching scenes ever. But of course he does finally remember, and the film does end happily. Even then, the more egalitarian Sara of this version takes Becky with her not as a personal maid, but as a sister.
As with several other movies that have been remade, there will always be a battle over which version is best. Originally, I had preferred the Liesel Matthews over the Amelia Shanklin version, but after several re-visits to both, I've concluded that I can go with either. The Amelia Shankley version allows us to study the depths of Sara Crewe's character. The Liesel Matthews version is like a fine painting or a poem, where we get the sense of her inner being. However, as long as the essential character of Sara Crewe is allowed to shine through, the story in which it resides is secondary.
The character of Sara Crewe as outlined in Burnett's book is one of the most fascinating - and complex - in literature. She was at one and the same time aristocratic-haughty and humble-deferent; judgmental and accepting; defiant and shy; possessive and charitable; and resentful and loving. She never saw herself through the idealistic light of her father's eyes, yet she was beautiful in an undeniably unique way. She gravitated to put-upon souls, and took up their causes selflessly. She had an immeasurably profound intelligence, and was wise in the ways of people. She accepted the embarrassing alms of the sensitive boy because not to have would have hurt him. She was both tough and frail of heart, though she took pains to hide that frailty from possible witnesses; she could be and was hurt by the thoughtlessness of others ... and the thoughtlessness of fate. And she had an imagination that knew no bounds, which she used often to assuage the hurts of her friends. I came to love Sara Crewe, and with each version of her story I grew to love her even more.
From the 1995 version (Liesel Matthews as sara):
From the 1986 version (Amelia Shankley as Sara)
The Little Princess 1939 was directed by Walter Lang
A Little Princess 1986 was directed by Carol Wiseman
A Little Princess 1995 was directed by Alfonso Cuaron
or go to
An Explanation; Being Things; Childhood; Heroes; The Inner Spirit;
Elves I Have Known
Other Essays at Large: Movie Classics; Class of the Millennium;
My Book Reviews; My Stories
From Dorothy's Corner: For Dorothy
Comments: GKEARNS@prodigy.net