Cinderella Meets the Byronic Hero

Although I’ve blogged here before about 50 Shadesof Grey, and I recently blogged here about the persistence of the Cinderella myth, I’m going to bring it all up again. The much-anticipated 50 Shades film recently came out, just in time for that most horrifying of holidays, Valentine’s Day, and many of us literary folk have been scratching our heads as to why, exactly, a poorly-written, poorly-plotted, sex-negative “mommy-porn” has made so much money and appealed to so many women.

Mad, bad & sexy!
Lord Byron

To me, the reasoning is fairly simple, though I will caveat my argument with the fact that I have read the books, but I have not yet seen the movie. Going by the books, however, it seems pretty obvious that 50 Shades combines two (possibly three) very powerful cultural myths: that of the rags-to-riches story (cue Cinderella) and the rake-reformed (cue the Byronic hero).

Although 50 Shades began as a Twilight fan fic, it owes almost as much to Pretty Woman as it does to its vampire progenitor. Pretty Woman is obviously a reworking of the Cinderella story, but if we look closely, we can see that it is also a story about bringing a sardonic, isolated, and brooding billionaire back to life—just like 50 Shades of Grey.

The Byronic hero or antihero (your choice) has his own gravitational pull. He is mysterious, alluring, charming, brooding, prone to outbursts, and intellectually superior to those who surround him. He is doing penance for an unknown past sin, suggesting emotional vulnerability obscured by a carapace of irony and self-loathing. He is cocky, self-assured, highly intelligent and, of course, wildly attractive, handsome, sexy, etc.

It’s hard to find a television drama these days without a version of our beloved Byronic hero—named after Romantic poet Lord Byron who was described by a contemporary as “mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” The archetype of the Byronic hero draws on both Byron’s personality as well as on his works—such as the character Manfred in the closet drama of the same name. Other Romantic and Gothic texts took up the rough outlines of the Byronic hero and helped build up his allure.

Victor Frankenstein, Heathcliff, Mr. Rochester, Sherlock Holmes and Eugene Onegin are some nineteenth-century examples that contributed to the growth of interest in this type of hero. Today, the obsession continues with various Sherlock Holmes movies and shows (Elementary and Sherlock), Dr. House, the entire Batman franchise, Edward Cullen and now Christian Grey.

Michael Fassbender as Mr. Rochester.
He's so tormented! Don't you just want to make him a sandwich?

The idea that a woman could “fix” the bad boy Byronic hero and open his heart to love has been around a long time as well. In some cases, our heroines succeed (Jane marries Mr. Rochester, though only after becoming financially independent); in others, they don’t even bother trying (Cathy is her own kind of Byronic heroine in Wuthering Heights, one could argue).

One of the most alluring conceits in the 50 Shades of Grey series is, no doubt, that Anastasia Steele succeeds in reforming her rake and, even more potently, that it is her innocence, purity, and tenderness that tame the beast (cue the Beauty and the Beast myth). While outwardly the novels appear to be about Christian’s dominance over Ana (and many feminists have castigated the work for supposedly glorifying stalker-like, abusive behavior in romantic relationships), at the heart of the appeal of 50 Shades of Grey is the powerful notion that this young woman is the only person powerful enough and special enough to reform Christian and his sexual deviance.

One of the earliest press release photos
underscores the difference between Ana
and Christian: college student and
sexy billionaire.

Ana is so morally and emotionally pure, that not only is she a virgin before she meets Christian, but she refuses many of his monetary gifts. She doesn’t want him for his money—though ultimately his money is the other crucial part of the powerful fantasy and appeal of E.L. James’s novels. Christian is so wealthy, that Ana’s money problems are solved forever once they get together. His wealth means most people are at his command—but not Ana. Though she agrees (sporadically) to be his submissive in the bedroom, she is constantly challenging him. Although she is physically weaker, younger, and financially insolvent in comparison with her lover, it is actually Ana (the woman) in the relationship who wields the real (emotional) power—and who “wins” at the end of the novel. Winning here means helped Christian leave behind the world of BDSM (mostly, anyway) in exchange for domestic bliss (and “vanilla sex”).

That is a powerful fantasy. And that, to me, is why these books are so addictive. It’s not just the sex. And it’s not because all these women are yearning to be in abusive relationships. It’s because these novels draw on culturally-embedded myths: Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, the Byronic Hero. Further, they take these myths and rework them into a female fantasy in which empowerment is only necessary insofar as you are able to change your sexy, brooding Byronic hero into a sexy, no-longer-brooding billionaire husband and baby-daddy. Thematically, thus, 50 Shades of Grey is not so different than Pamela or Jane Eyre.

No doubt poor Charlotte Brontë is spinning in her grave!

Now, don't misunderstand me...there is plenty that is problematic, to say the least, about these novels and the spin-offs they have engendered. But it seems worthwhile to look at them in the context of archetypes and cultural myths, for they reveal the persistence of certain ideas in our culture. Further, literature has always been a place in which to explore (and create) fantasies in a safe place. Eighteenth-century fictions presented their readers with heroines in sticky situations, often for the purposes of entertainment--not always for moral instruction. 

We can read Eliza Haywood's Fantomina, for example, as a text about a deeply misguided young woman brought to the brink of obsession by a man. Or, we can read her as a conniving, powerful young woman in control of her sexuality. Both Fantomina and 50 Shades illustrate certain persistent inequalities in our society without making a definitive judgment about these inequalities.

This is not to suggest that 50 Shades is important in any "literary" way. It's poorly written with ridiculous dialogue and flat characterizations. It's erotica, and by definition erotica is repetitive--there's only so many ways to go about that particular business. But the very popularity of 50 Shades and its protagonists is what makes them so interesting to consider.