In 2001, a monumental film was released; it explored the lengths a man would go to get back his habitual tranquillity and adored abode, robbed from him by a tyrannical rule imposing racial discrimination. Shrek is a brilliant film that at its heart has a carefree and unapologetic creative direction formulating its iconic humour and plot. Despite its utterly fantastical and absurd sequences, it draws audiences in and keeps them there for two hours, never amassing enough ridiculousness for one to switch off the screen in rage. Shrek does this by creatively exploiting a period that often goes vaguely misunderstood: the middle ages. It introduces fairytale characters—most of which were actually created in the 18th century— and blends them with our already existing confusion about a far away (pun-intended) sociopolitical structure.
That’s what might be said in praise of the remarkable Shrek franchise— if not for the fact that it co-exists with dialogue like ‘Hold the phone’ or ‘I’ll get the car’ spoken by an ogre and talking donkey. The film commits to a middle ages aesthetic with an integrity that gives it a cohesive feel of faux normality. However, the dialogue and plot feed into an unapologetic but subtle breaking of the fourth-wall. Its silliness is not amiss. Let me be as clear as possible, Shrek is not historically accurate in the absolute least. They ride in an onion carriage. Lord Fardquad’s castle has turnstiles at its entrance. There is a piano (invented in 1700) and a full-fledged speaker sound system at that. There’s a constant reminder embedded through the story that this is fantasy. It does not take itself seriously and does not ask you to either—as a film about an ogre and its talking donkey should.
Burritos might co-exist with the mediaeval period, but the film as a whole feels connected to its contemporary time of creation: the turn of the new century. Shrek’s mash of chronological logistics and mixing pot of mass culture encapsulates an excitement for what the early 2000s internet was becoming. The first film mirrors the hopes of the early internet as a space of freedom and culture readily available. There was chaos but optimism in vast knowledge; this is clearly visible in Shrek’s references to Ricky Martin in the same sequence as Hans Christian Andersen. It is no wonder then that Shrek became widely known as an extremely ‘meme-able’ film, one which since its release has been under constant online appropriation. However, that was before capitalistic control took a hold of how we browse online, which nowadays is done in a more corporate, individualised, and ritualistic manner. It reminds me of how few films as genre-bending and creatively disordered as Shrek come to the big screen. Perhaps cinema needs to learn to let go a little, shrug their shoulders, and dive into the suspension of disbelief. Shrek and the early internet reflect a time of eagerness, and curiosity through an influx of references and creative freedom. They were simply not looking to please anyone (the story of Shrek’s production funnily reflects that). The historical accuracy in Shrek is non-existent but perhaps that is, in fact, the lesson.
Illustration by Regan Donovan