To these knights, empathy is far from dead
Knights of Guinevere called and it has a few things to say about Disney.
by Coop Bicknell, guest contributor
Knights of Guinevere's pilot comes at an oddly serendipitous time — one in which the Walt Disney Company's greatest fumblings have come bubbling back to the surface. Following the company's gigantic, Jimmy Kimmel-sized free speech blunder, Disney+ subscriptions took a nosedive and the shareholders aren't thrilled with that. So, what exactly does this scrappy little cartoon from the company behind The Amazing Digital Circus have to do with Disney? Well, it all comes down to Knights of Guinevere co-creators Dana Terrace, Zach Marcus, and John Bailey Owen, who all worked on The Owl House (a series created by Terrace) for Disney Television Animation.
Given the trio's experiences working for the company, dealing with its standards and practices department (which Gravity Falls creator Alex Hirsch has previously comically jabbed at), and the difficult production of the The Owl House's final season (which Terrace addressed in an AMA), I'd imagine they'd probably have some complicated feelings about their former employer. With all that in mind, it's hard not to see those emotions at the front and center of Knights of Guinevere. But for as occasionally gory and regularly critical of the mouse as it is, this pilot is deeply sympathetic to the plight of those working on the ground floor of such a company and those who yearn to join them.
Within the pilot's first few minutes, the audience is introduced to Guinevere — a Disney Princess-esque android who acts as the mascot for a brilliant theme park that hovers in the skies overhead. Aside from the obvious princess imagery, Guinevere's giant hair buns are rather reminiscent of Mickey Mouse's ears. Following a horrific escape scene, the viewer is shown how Guinevere has been given the proper princess product treatment over a long, long period of time. She's the star of dozens of movies, has been merchandised up the wazoo, and has appeared for countless meet and greets at the park.
Despite being thoroughly reduced to a product (like Disney's princesses), Guinevere seemingly means the world to at least handful of children out there — including a pair of girls by the names of Frankie and Andi, and those feelings only intensify after they wander into a life-changing encounter with Guinevere at the park. As a child, I remember being stupefied by coming face-to-face with Goofy at Disney World. Even though Goofy was really a cast member in a stuffy costume (or in Frankie and Andi's case, an android), that encounter meant everything to me. Who hasn't heard a story or two about a little girl absolutely losing it when meeting their favorite princess? These are experiences that dreams are made of, but perhaps even these meetings have been grotesquely commodified as well.
This encounter appears to be the spark that led Frankie and Andi to where they are as adults. Andi's an android engineer at the park, while Frankie dreams of joining her in the lab. However, those dreams seem out of reach for Frankie; she's stuck spending her days working in the merchandise factories while scooping up trash out of the sea for a shady dude on the side.
Compared to the glistening lights of the park overhead, life in the city streets below isn't anywhere near as glamorous. The introduction of the city Frankie and Andi call home instantly recalls Orlando — the home of Disney World. It conjured up the all-far-too-familiar sight of regular folks trying their damnedest to scrap by while everything around them is devoted to a park and that park alone. Given the recent difficulties faced by those working in animation, something similar could be said of Burbank as well.
With those conditions in mind, there's a fierce tension between the park's employees (pejoratively referred to as "Crownies") and those trying to survive on their own. When the audience catches up with our duo as adults, Andi's having trouble with a shopkeeper who won't sell her a thing because she works at the park. She tries to appeal to him, saying, "I chose a job, and I've got rent. We're all victims of the park, but everyone's so busy picking apart each other, they don't see the corporate hand at the wheel! You think a cog like me has power?"
Anyone who's ever worked for a large company knows they're eventually going to feel the heat for executive decisions they had absolutely nothing to do with. This obviously applies to Disney, but it's also an phenomena I've seen in my time in the anime space — particularly in regards to Crunchyroll. Make no mistake, there are amazingly talented people working on the ground floor of that company, but also the first ones in front of the masses whenever there's c-suite incompetence. As a result, these workers have often become the target for well-intentioned and not-so-well-intentioned rage as they're often the closest thing to a public face.
Knights of Guinevere shows that kind of sympathy to everyone who's ever been on that ground floor. While the series doesn't beat around the bush on the realities of working at such a company, it understands why people would want to work there. Frankie is the perfect example of one such person. During one of her shifts on Sparky's barge, Frankie discovers a corpse-like Guinevere android hidden within a pile of trash. The old codger tries to talk his employee out of even futzing around with their bounty, warning her that the park has too many skeletons in its closet to get involved with.
Despite Sparky's efforts, Frankie gets it in her head that if she can repair the android, perhaps she could score a job at the park. When Andi is finally roped into her plan, the two have a serious heart-to-heart: why would Frankie be willing to risk it all just for a job? Andi's far too familiar with what it's like to be chewed up and suddenly spit out by the corporate machine. But Frankie reminds her of the memory they made that day they met Guinevere. That memory has stuck with Frankie ever since, and if she can help make memories for others like Andi does, she wants to do it too.
There isn't a working creative who doesn't understand those emotions on an intrinsic level. But unfortunately, those emotions can also easily be taken advantage of. Game developers, animators, and even critics — much like myself and the re:frame crew — have met so many people who want to break into their fields. And I'd love to encourage more folks to get into media criticism, but it's also a field filled with stories of heartbreak, low pay, and harrowing working conditions. Yes, a reviewer might get the exciting opportunity to play the latest video game early, but can they eat that game? Nobody can survive on passion alone.
After walking into a stickup, running for their lives through an Epcot-like graveyard, and playing witness to unspeakable horrors, Frankie and Andi just barely manage to get the android into a repair bay. While the pilot's final moments are a wonderful callback to that clandestine meeting, I have a feeling that things are about to take a dark turn if the start of this interview with Terrace (which includes a bit from the initial teaser) is anything to go by.
Admittedly, I wasn't enamored with Knights of Guinevere's initial trailer, but when I flicked on the pilot, its bruised yet loudly thumping, empathy-filled heart quickly won me over. For all of its shocking imagery, impressive animation, and razor-sharp commentary, Knights of Guinevere's pilot leads with such sincerity in every minute. It highlights the need for healthy skepticism, but never forgets its core, heartfelt intentions. If that heart is allowed to keep the same blue blood pumping through a full-bodied season, we just might have the right cartoon for the moment; ours is a world also filled with nightmarish horrors at every turn. At the very least, Knights of Guinevere is a reminder that compassion is the key to fighting back.