All That Glitters Is Not Gold: On Breaking Up with ‘Seven Brides for Seven Brothers’
The Scoop features personal essays on movie-centric topics.
By Elise Comello
I was raised on classic cinema and musicals. As a preschooler, when other kids were watching (actually, I’m not sure what other kids were watching), my two favorite movies were Gone with the Wind and The Sound of Music. I saw Casablanca around age 9, and Singin’ in the Rain and Some Like It Hot were my treasures. My first crush, believe it or not, was Clark Gable, even though I was young enough to not be able to fully pronounce his name—I called him “Cart Able”, which was a running joke in our family for years.
As I grew up and learned to sing, my worldview expanded and I watched every musical I could find. Anyone who knows me knows that I love musicals. Any non-musical muggle reading this may wonder constitutes a good musical. Musicals are for people who love to sing what Michael Bay films are for those who love a good explosion: how we wish life could be. A great musical makes you wish you could jump on stage and belt it with the best.
I was proud of this cinematic palette I had developed and curated starting at such a young age. The problem was that while I was always taught to appreciate the art, I was not taught to think critically about it.
A Trove of Feel-Good Nostalgia
Although bigger and sleeker musicals filled my DVD collection, for a decade my favorite musical was Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, for its unyielding ability to cheer me up on tough days.
Directed by the legendary Stanley Donen, Seven Brides is a musical that—for those who appreciate musicals—is a trove of feel-good nostalgia. Made in 1954 but set in 1850, the movie feels timeless and easily blends in with other fan favorites like Singin’ in the Rain and White Christmas, albeit less famous.
It follows the adventures of the woodsman Adam Pontipee (Howard Keel) and his unpolished six brothers living in the newly settled Oregon Territory, where women were scarce. The brothers know their way around a plow but are all thumbs with the ladies, which is problematic as the brothers are lonely and the only women for 500 miles are the ones in town. Adam manages to meet and quickly propose to Milly (Jane Powell), but for the rest of the brothers all it took was one trip into town for them to find women they each fancied and then decide to kidnap them back into their wilderness.
The remainder of the movie sees the women slowly falling in love with the brothers, with singin’ and dancin’ and knee-slappin’ tunes aplenty. By the time the women have the chance to return home, they all decline because they want to be brides to those seven brothers after all.
Sobbin’ Women on Stolen Land
At first glance, Seven Brides is the Leave It to Beaver of musicals, by golly. And musicals of the 1950s made bursting into spontaneous dance and song not only normal, but expected. I watched it for the first time as an adolescent while going through a difficult time, and it did exactly what classic musicals are good at doing: it cheered me up. Choreographed dance and song, wide-open American mountain ranges, and not just one love story but seven love stories? To paraphrase the opening number, bless this beautiful film!
It was years later when I rewatched Seven Brides for the same feel-good nostalgia but instead was absolutely shocked and appalled at the rampant sexism and misogyny. The movie references that it was based on a true story (first adapted by the book The Sobbin’ Women by Stephen Vincent Benét) and a little digging exposed the ugly truth: Seven Brides was based on the infamous rape of the Sabine Women in Rome in 1627. And the beautiful land wasn’t “settled”; it was stolen. Just like the women.
For years after making this realization and rewatching the movie with an educated mind (and a couple of critical thinking and cinema analysis college courses under my belt), I would only watch it sparingly, trying to ignore the sexism and the true story behind it, until even that felt like it caused more harm than good.
Arsenic and Old Friends
I felt similarly when I rewatched Gone with the Wind as an adult, another film I watched repeatedly as a very young child (with a particularly impressive attention span) and witnessed with new eyes the ugly truth of not only slavery and racism, but whitewashing of the truth and a romanticizing of Southern slavery. It felt like I had to say goodbye to an old friend who was good to me, but horrible to other people.
Rewatching most musicals and movies I loved in my childhood has shown me that most whitewash American history, make the villains heroes, and are laced with racism and misogyny. When this is how you grow up, sexism and misogyny and whitewashing not only feel familiar but also nostalgic and comforting, because they were everywhere.
“It felt like I had to say goodbye to an old friend who was good to me, but horrible to other people.”
As a very young child, I was soothed and enthralled by Disney princess movies, which are roadmaps at best but more so cages of Stockholm syndrome, white supremacy, abusive relationships, and internalized misogyny at worst. And they sold these to me in a brightly colored message of “you should like this”—pink glitter accessories optional and batteries not included.
When your baby food has traces of arsenic in it, it can take many years to learn that you’ve been poisoned.
Goin’ Courtin’ for Better Musicals
Musicals are still great at uplifting our spirits, and I still love them. But we also know better now, so we can do better.
With this in mind, I came to two conclusions. First, art should be taught with an appreciation of its shine but also with a critical eye. And second, historical art and interpretations should be made truthfully and with the people most harmed by America’s atrocities at the creative and directorial wheel.
Hairspray was a solid attempt at diversifying musical theater through body size diversity, full drag, and support for civil rights, yet mostly concealed the truth about just how many white people were on the wrong side of history. West Side Story touched on racism but cast white actors to play Latino characters. Chicago had a powerful and diverse cast but was written and directed by all white men. Again. Rent centers marginalized people living through the AIDS epidemic and stands the test of time.
I think we all deserve a redo. I can only imagine how fun an adaptation of Seven Brides would be if it were made by women, with a feminist edge: Seven Brothers Go to Therapy.
Elise Comello is a psychotherapist, dog mom, and passionate advocate of mental health, fitness, personal growth, and societal change.