Although Sarah Jessica Parker may have naturally crone-like features, she was the obvious “pretty girl” of the Hocus Pocus trio when the movie came out in 1993. This element could very well be part of the evolution of the movie as requisite Fall viewing for generics. But, more than anything, a desire to “be” Sarah Sanderson (Parker) out of all the Sanderson sisters stems from the way women have been indoctrinated to believe that the best thing they can offer is their outer shell–which, of course, goes against the phony baloney assurance, “It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”
Based on the fact that anytime a group of girls dresses up as the Sanderson sisters, there’s always an overt vying for the part of Sarah, we can continue to see the longstanding effects of this societal brainwashing in motion with something even as “innocent” as a “family friendly” cult classic. Girls don’t want to adopt the look of Sarah because she’s “clever” or “funny” or intelligent (indeed, she’s quite dumb), but because she has the closest thing to “conventional beauty”–blonde hair and a thin figure–between the three “options.” And women still can’t help but gravitate toward her the most because of the spell that patriarchy has put on us all about standards of beauty.
While Bette Midler as Winifred comes in at a close second because she has the “best lines” (if “Oh look, another glorious morning” delivered in a tone of sarcasm is classifiable as a “best line”), her buck teeth and unsightly red hair do not make her the top candidate to emulate on Halloween (unless, that is, one is a drag queen excited about the “challenge” and the excess of makeup required). And that much is made clear when Thackery Binx (Sean Murray) shouts at her, “You hag! There are not enough children in the world to make thee young and beautiful!” Which brings us to the third choice in the coven, Mary (Kathy Najimy).
The name alone connotes the chaste undesirability of the Virgin herself–except that even Mary was able to allure Joseph into her “immaculate conception.” Najimy’s Mary, on the other hand, is sort of the Ed of the operation. You know, as in Ed (Jim Cummings) from the hyena trio in The Lion King. She has that depraved, “missing a part” sort of aspect to her, compounded by a crooked smile and nest-like hair. And so, having neither “good lines” or looks to offer, very few girls seek to “be” her either. Despite not having the red hair of the outfit, she is, for all intents and purposes, the “ugly red-headed stepchild.” The symbolism of this is manifested most overtly when she can’t even finagle a proper broom, instead relegated to riding a vacuum as an indication of her below second class citizenship in the eyes of her sisters and men.
To intensify the issue at hand–which is placing a premium on “aesthetic” ingrained within little girls from an early age thanks to movies like Hocus Pocus–Sarah is obsessed with being visually pleasing to boys as she shouts in delight, “I am beautiful! Boys will love me!” And she’s not wrong. Men will generally fuck anything with a blonde wig on. Personality doesn’t enter into the equation. Unless, of course, that personality is palpably abrasive the way Winifred’s is as she stalks the streets in search of children whose youth she can absorb for her and her sisters. This, too, is an inherently misogynistic message woven into the fabric of the film, co-written by Mick Garris and Neil Cuthbert: a woman must constantly worry about ways and means of regaining her youth. No matter how absurd the method. What’s more, the “evil” women of the movie are positioned as such primarily because of their contempt for children–when an automatic liking of them, in fact, should not signify a woman’s “goodness.” But naturally, it does, for this is a Disney movie and it’s always been paramount to suggest the heteronormative tropes women “must” adhere to if they want to successfully “land a man” (including being mellifluous toward children as an indication of her own aptitude as a potential mother).
This is where Hilary Swank lookalike Vinessa Shaw as Allison comes in. She is the representation of the perfect blend of “virginal” and “coquette.” She’s got just enough of the “unattainable” aura to make her a source of appeal to Max (Omri Katz)–and, to be sure, she’s blonde and thin. The flipside is Sarah, who is a caricature of what the thin, blonde girl might one day become if she lets her sexual (read: evil) impulses fly too freely (whether by way of a broom or not). When this happens, she becomes nefarious, profligate, lewd. Someone to be reviled rather than sought after. Of course, Sarah never gets this memo and continues her hyper-charged flirtations, which “the wrong kind of men” play into.
Although some might not see the harm in a girl trying to look her best–in fact, believe that it’s only natural to have such a preoccupation–by striving for the same cliche characteristics that have been deemed attractive for centuries, the emphasis placed on this inanity continues to make equality between the sexes truly impossible. And to perpetuate the toxic belief that the core of a woman’s true worth is her appearance and what it can secure her, including the same “distractionary tactics” wielded by Sarah.
Whatever the premise of the confirmed sequel might be, now that the Sanderson sisters are “old” in real life, maybe the “spell” of the original movie that made so many more girls prefer to dress up as Sarah will be broken. And in its place, of course, the new incantation iterates that ageism abounds by way of absolutely no one wanting to look like an old crone. Alas, if only there were a potion that could make us all blind to preconceived notions of what’s “supposed to be” attractive. Then again, some might call that an Orwellian reality in which sex is stamped out altogether (not entirely out of the realm of possibility, but if it did happen, men would still choose “hot” avatars to pretend fuck).
