Cast: Rachel Zegler, Andrew Burnap, and Gal Gadot
Genre: Family, Musical
Director: Marc Webb
In Irish Cinemas: 21st March 2025
The story of Snow White has long been a source of fascination, its elements both charming and controversial. Consider the peculiar premise: Snow White, abandoned in the woods after the Huntsman, too kindhearted to follow the Evil Queen’s murderous command, spares her life. Lost and alone, she stumbles upon a cottage inhabited by seven bickering, 249-year-old men, each sporting Amish beards and living in chaotic bachelor squalor. They take her in, becoming her protectors. This depiction has drawn criticism, most notably from Peter Dinklage, a respected actor and outspoken advocate for little people. Dinklage has denounced the “seven dwarfs” trope as an outdated and stereotypical portrayal, an argument that holds weight—though, if taken to its extreme, one might have to reconsider The Wizard of Oz as an egregious offense as well. The latest Snow White adaptation avoids this issue entirely; the word “dwarf” is never uttered, and the CGI-rendered companions feel no more offensive—or rooted in reality—than Tolkien’s hobbits.
But what of Rachel Zegler’s remarks about the original 1937 Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs—Disney’s first animated feature and, arguably, still its most visually poetic and mesmerizing? In an interview with Variety, Zegler dismissed the classic, pointing to its romantic arc and calling out the prince as “the guy who literally stalks her. Weird, weird.” Her comments suggested that the new adaptation might strip away the love story just as it had jettisoned the film’s iconic hand-painted fairy-tale aesthetic. And yet, at its core, Snow White has always been a love story—could it survive without one?
In reality, romance still plays a significant role. The traditional prince is gone, replaced by Jonathan (Andrew Burnap), a roguish but noble-hearted thief whom Snow White first encounters mid-potato heist in the castle kitchens. Their dynamic fits the mold of contemporary Disney storytelling, echoing the flirtatious tension of Frozen, where romance exists alongside themes of self-discovery and empowerment. However, one key omission speaks volumes: while the film enthusiastically revives many of the original’s beloved songs—Heigh-Ho, Whistle While You Work—it discards Someday My Prince Will Come. The exclusion makes sense, given the absence of a prince, but it’s still a loss. The song carries an ethereal, wistful magic, a quality the new Snow White struggles to replicate.
That said, the film retains its enchantment, weaving a visually rich and emotionally compelling journey for its heroine. Snow White’s world is one of both wonder and peril, shaped by the sinister presence of the Evil Queen, whose obsession with beauty is mirrored—literally—by her ominous Magic Mirror. Snow White’s backstory deepens: after losing her mother, the Good Queen (Lorena Andrea), she is left in the care of her father, the Good King (Hadley Fraser), who departs for war and never returns. Reduced to servitude, much like Cinderella, she ultimately discovers her own strength in the company of her seven lively woodland companions.
These CGI-rendered gnomes inject personality and energy into the film. Each boasts a distinct persona: the fastidious Doc (voiced by Jeremy Swift), the brooding and philosophical Grumpy (Martin Klebba), and the oddly youthful, mute, big-eared Dopey (Andrew Barth Feldman), whose resemblance to a young Tom Holland in a biopic of Mad magazine’s Alfred E. Neuman is uncanny. The film also introduces a selection of new songs by Pasek and Paul. Some, like the playful Princess Problems, bring wit and charm, while others, like Waiting on a Wish, feel more generically uplifting—pleasant but not particularly memorable.
Then there’s Gal Gadot’s Evil Queen, whose villainy extends far beyond personal vanity. In this version, she isn’t merely envious of Snow White’s beauty; she’s a full-fledged tyrant, a chilling force of oppression who hoards wealth and crushes the spirits of her subjects. The film’s political undertones are hard to ignore—whether intentional or not, its portrayal of authoritarian rule resonates with contemporary anxieties. One might argue that fairy tales have always reflected societal fears, but it’s striking how pointed this interpretation feels. Who would have guessed that a Disney remake could carry such an overtly political charge?
In the end, if Snow White leaves audiences with any lingering romantic sentiment, it’s not about a prince or a fairy-tale ending—it’s the hope that someday, all gilded tyrants will fall.
Overall: 7/10
Movie Reviewer
