The Penniless Princess: Part 4
Cut to downstairs in the house next door, where we learn that the employer of the French Peas is the old friend of Sara’s father. He has “recovered your fortune, but cannot find your sweet daughter.” Which is all very true to the book, so cool.
That being said, does anyone with more familiarity with VeggieTales know if the same vegetables are related to each other? I mean, I assume not, because Sara was spawned of a cucumber. Then again, we don’t know what vegetable her mother was.
I say this because Carrisford is an asparagus, which makes him look like Ermie’s father to me. Also he looks delicious. Gawd, I love asparagus.
Then comes another scene right out of the book. And some of my goodwill is washed away as they…well, they VeggieTale it right up.
Sara finds a fourpenny piece in the street. And she promptly thanks God for it. She heads right to the baker. In the book, the baker is woman—a grown, single woman who runs her own thriving business, thank you very much. Awesome.
Here, they have made the baker Bob the To-mah-to. Whatsa matter, VeggieTales, too many women in this story? Why the hell not make Bob be Carrisford instead?
In both the book and The Penniless Princess, Sara attempts to buy four penny buns, and the baker, out of an abundance of kindness, slips in two more.
In the book, Sara thanks the baker twice. In The Penniless Princess, Sara thanks him not at all. Instead, she takes the buns and heads across the street, where she thanks God instead of the baker.
Okay, hon, I get thanking God for the coin, which did kinda come out of nowhere, but a person (okay a tomato, but my point stands) gave you extra buns, not God.
Then, in both the book and movie, Sara spies a homeless child, colder and hungrier than she is. In the book, the child is a girl, and Sara gives her five buns, keeping one for herself. In TPP, the child is a boy (Whatsa matter, VeggieTales, too many women in this story?) and Sara gives him all of the buns.
Which is especially grating because they immediately cut to her meeting up with Becky in the attic. Becky plaintively asks if she brought any food. Sara wisely doesn’t mention that she got free food, but gave it all away.
I now amuse myself by imagining Sara saying that…and Becky kicking her veggieass.
Anyway, Ermie is also in the attic, inexplicably hiding under a bed. As in the book, she offers to share a care package from home.
In the book, there is a charming sequence where Sara takes bits of detritus from around the room, setting the table with them and painting a word picture for Becky and Ermengarde of a banquet hall where three princesses can feast.
Here, Sara just proposes they “give thanks.” To God, not her friend. Again, Sara, a person (Ermie) provided this for you. The words “thank you” do not leave Sara’s veggielips, though they do leave Becky’s. So it seems the street orphan has better manners than God’s Little Princess.
And, just as in the book, Miss Minchin catches them before they can actually eat a bite.
In this scene in the book, Miss Minchin could not give less of a crap about the doll, Emily. In TPP, Mortimer makes Miss Minchin sneeze again, so she chucks him out the window. Honestly, I don’t find that action entirely evil. Allergies, yanno?
Miss Minchin takes everything away and threatens Becky with firing. Me, I’d rather be fired by a sentient, armless green onion than this slimy asshole:
Anyway, Sara is left in tears.
“I know you will work everything out, God—but when? When? I know I am still your princess, but sometimes I am afraid I am only pretending.”
Heh. How ironic. Yanno, in the book, Sara is very conscious that she is pretending. She uses her princess-pretending as a personal philosophy, behavior guide, and coping mechanism. And she knows she’s doing this. It’s pretending for a purpose.
Here, Sara really believes that she is the real princess of a real god. This is why it’s sadly hilariously when preachers exhort us not to rely on ourselves, but only on God. Because Sara has now worked herself into a position where if she loses her God, she’s lost everything. She has no other coping mechanism for when things go wrong.
She sings a short and pathetic song about how she misses her (earthly) father but knows she is not fatherless because of her (heavenly) father. It is decidedly tuneless and not-sing-along-able.
She ends on a spoken, “I trust you, God.”
Though even if she didn’t, other persons/vegetables are about to take action in her life.
But I’m sure Sara won’t thank them, either.