A very serious psychological analysis of Disney's greatest villains

Cut to the Feeling is a monthly column by Anne T. Donahue about the art and pop culture that sparks joy, grief, nostalgia, and everything in between.

Contains strong language.

The recent reboot of The Little Mermaid has given us an eight-tentacled reminder of the legacy of Disney's cinematic villains. And that made me — a person who finds the antagonists in these movies far more interesting than their heroic counterparts — realize I had a mission: to psychologically validate the actions of the characters we were raised to hate.

Of course, when I say "validate," I mean "provide an extensive armchair diagnosis and explanation for their atrocious behaviour and force us all to question our norms." After all, whomst among us hasn't resented nepo babies who flaunt their birthright or can't see how charmed their life is? Who hasn't felt ostracized by family, or been on the receiving end of a stranger's pure hatred for merely doing our jobs?

Exactly: if placed in the Disney-verse, we'd all be plotted and rooted against. Our worst traits would be exploited for the sake of a narrative, and we'd be painted as villains for merely exercising our right to dislike things. (Imagine spending even an hour with a woman who spontaneously breaks into song. I don't even like to stand next to somebody who coughs too loud.)

So this is my attempt to offer a new, necessary perspective to the characters we're supposed to despise. Truthfully, I take solace in knowing that somewhere, a Disney prince or princess probably hates me.

Ursula from The Little Mermaid

If I were funnier, more interesting and glamorous, and could ensure my makeup would remain flawless under the crushing pressure of the sea, I too would resent King Triton and his weird daughter who obsesses over utensils.

Imagine having the capacity to wield magic, transform yourself into a land-walking seductress, and contain the voice of your nemesis in a necklace that, due to the naivety of said fork-loving daughter, would eventually be yours. Then, instead of being heralded as the second coming of whatever-ocean-god-you-worship, you are banished to the darkest depths of the Atlantic because, I don't know, a legion of mermaids with no discernable names can't handle your vibe?

Ursula is the vibe. She is a master of dry wit. She displays her sensational physique with pride and confidence, as she damn well should. Her eyebrows are shaped within an inch of their lives and their arches attest to her penchant for drama. She is theatrical, over-the-top, and will tell you exactly what she thinks because you deserve to hear the fucking truth. To the weak, she may be a bully. (Triton is weak.) But to the rest of us, she is the plus-one we so desperately need, particularly in moments when we're unsure of our own ability to serve.

Ursula would thrive in 2023. Her TikToks would be biting and vicious and pointedly truthful, and her Instagram would be a buffet of shitposty-memes. I would go to drag brunch with Ursula, talk shit with Ursula, and hex my enemies with Ursula. Ursula is the real hero of The Little Mermaid, and her trajectory is justified considering she's surrounded by poor, unfortunate souls.

Scar from The Lion King

Let's cut to the chase: Mufasa and Scar had two different dads. And instead of being embraced by the royal family, Scar was sent to a boarding school in the U.K. at an age so early that he developed an accent not a single other soul on the plains managed to share.

God only knows what went wrong at Eton (the only boarding school I know the name of and one that, based on the number of coldblooded prime ministers it's molded, clearly seems to be evil). God only knows where he acquired his "Scar" moniker, and why his own flesh and blood called him by that brutal nickname and not the name he was given at birth (Brian). God only knows why Scar couldn't kick it with the rest of the lions and lionesses. Let's not forget that we're talking about one of Disney's most obviously queer-coded villains. Why was he pushed to the Elephants' Graveyard and expected to accept his lowly lot in life?

Imagine returning home after a tumultuous upbringing amongst a bunch of rich boys in tragic uniforms and learning that your new den was in a cave with a bird and two unhinged hyenas. Then, imagine after finally creating a life in which you and your posse had managed to thrive, you still had to endure the daily musings of a tiny child — nay, your own nephew — who rubbed your shortcomings in your own face as if it was your honour to endure them.

I don't condone murder, but I can certainly condone bitterness. And respect must be given to a dejected lion whose lust for power translates into sheer ruthlessness. Scar prowled so Kendall Roy could sit sadly on a bench. Of course, in a different, better movie, he would've high-tailed it (all puns intended) to a cosmopolitan metropolis, embraced his inner queen, and begun collaborating with Elton John, with whom he would pen the musical adaptation to his memoir The Other Lion King.

Lucifer the Cat from Cinderella

Who names a cat after the devil? Who looks down at a wee baby kitten (a perfect, gorgeous, fluffy angel) and, out of every name in the history of time and space, settles on "Lucifer"?

This is but a fraction of chaos this poor cat clearly lived amidst, stuck with a name worse than "Norman" while being villainized for chasing rodents around a castle and being the preferred partner of an old lady who pets him against the natural direction of his fur. (Seriously: she pets him upward, and it's disgusting.)

Let's be clear: cats like to chase small animals and maybe murder them because cats are tiny killing machines who also need an obscene amount of cuddling to live. They are complicated beings. Is it Lucifer's fault that he resides in an infested maison? Is it Lucifer's fault that the person responsible for maintaining a sanitary household has befriended a colony of mice and birds and an assortment of nature's biggest disease carriers and spent her free time making them outfits?

Lucifer was just doing his job. His stupid, simple, pointless job that got him thrown to his death  because of a bumbling mouse named Gus-Gus. And we cheered as if this was a victory. It wasn't: if it was, Lucifer would have warned Cinderella that a prince with no name and an obsession with glass shoes was probably a murderer. Then, he and Cindy would've teamed up to rob the evil stepmother blind before hopping into a pumpkin and heading to Paris. RIP, you muffin-boy.

Gaston from Beauty and the Beast

Yes, Gaston is a bonafide moron — a poster child for the patriarchy who has never had an original thought in his brawny life. He is a Joe Rogan podcast come to life and believes negging is a one-way street to a woman's heart.

In short, Gaston is a clueless person and completely delusional — but he's also the victim of the same system he believes is on his side. He's so lost in his quest to appear toxically masculine that he assumes that Belle's imprisonment should be answered with murder. Logic and patience escape him, but alas, he can be saved.

Gaston is a victim of his own era. Had somebody simply sat him down and explained to him how disgusting his behaviour was, I like to think he'd be mortified. (Kind of like when I explained to a friend's boyfriend that it usually makes women feel threatened when random guys catcall them; he sat in silence for a few minutes before apologizing, realizing in that instance he was certainly part of a bigger problem.) In a perfect world, Gaston would've been able to listen and learn before cutting off that troubling ponytail. Or at least chosen to be a good friend by encouraging Lafou to get his own life.

Yzma from The Emperor's New Groove

Maybe I just relate to Yzma and her lust for power and/or affinity for Cronk, but truly I have no notes. She is a hero and a heroine; a woman of strength, purpose, and intelligence. She, like me, also wonders aloud why so many menu items are swimming in gravy, and she, like me, also elicits gasps of horror when exposing a thigh.

What's our problem with Yzma? That she doesn't like David Spade? That she fails to respect a bratty king who himself respects no one? That she transformed him into a llama? That yes, ok sure, she wanted him dead, but without the aforementioned llama blip, we wouldn't have had a movie to begin with?

I don't know Yzma's life, and truthfully, I don't care. Yzma would've made a phenomenal queen, dabbling in dark magic and potions between biting quips that would mentally and emotionally decimate her enemies. AAnd Cronk would've made a terrific regional assistant to the queen. That we don't talk about her every day is downright criminal, and the fact that Cruella got a stand-alone origin film before Yzma did is an atrocity I can only describe as unparalleled.

Sid from Toy Story

Please pray for the boy who was only trying to play with what he once believed were inanimate objects and lost his mind as a result.