How ‘Aladdin’ Embraces Shakespearean Archetypes

I have been thinking about the ‘Aladdin’ remake ever since my sister dragged me to see it when it released this summer. I wasn’t expecting to like ‘Aladdin’—the film had seemingly been in production for over two years, and it had courted plenty of controversy on its way to the big screen. The cast were unfamiliar, and the reviews were already scathing. People were especially hung up on how Will Smith couldn’t replace the late, great, Robin Williams as the Genie.

But, surprisingly, the film turned out to be massively popular, extraordinarily fun, and a refreshing change from the white-washed films we’ve become used to, especially from Disney. What struck me about the film, aside from all its other qualities, was how it embraced the classical archetypes often found in Shakespeare’s plays. This isn’t really saying much—Shakespeare’s characters pretty much form the mould for most characters in modern literature and cinema, but so much of Aladdin seemed like an indirect homage to The Merchant of Venice to me that I thought to write about it.

This is not to say Aladdin is some great Shakespearean comedy. It’s that the two properties have plenty in common. Despite being a remake, 2019s Aladdin leans more into its Shakespearean characterizations than the original, which was very much an animated musical.

It’s not much of a stretch to say that Aladdin has a very traditional storyline, one that fits with the Shakespearean era. The big difference is that the cast are based in a Middle Eastern setting. With the film out for home viewing and conversations about a sequel floating around, there’s no better time to break down how Guy Ritchie’s Aladdin fits The Merchant of Venice formula.

The Sympathetic Villain

Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice is, on the surface, very much like his other romantic comedies—boys and girls fall in love, and have to overcome external obstacles to be together.

But the underlying message is about race and race relations. While Shylock is painted as a heinous villain, who goes to impossible lengths to harm protagonist Antonio (the titular merchant of the story), Shakespeare doesn’t hold back on how racist his ‘heroes’ really are.

Granted, one could argue that Shakespeare was merely painting a picture of the alleged times that the play was set in, but there’s no denying that he put a substantial amount of depth into creating Shylock as a somewhat sympathetic character.

Neither version of Aladdin has any overt discussions about race, but the 2019 film is a subversion of Hollywood standards of race with an ethnically diverse main cast that includes only one Caucasian actor. The dichotomy in the film is less about race, and more about being a good person and deserving what you get.

Which brings us to the villain of the piece. Marwan Kenzari’s Jafar is the Sultan’s Vizier and has grand plans to rule Agrabah and de-throne the benevolent Sultan. He is a cookie cutter villain, and, as mentioned above, brings little to the table in terms of racial tensions.

Though Jafar pales in comparison to Shylock—he isn’t given as much characterization as Shakespeare’s villain—the 2019 film does flesh out Jafar far more than the original animated film. And none of this means that Jafar himself doesn’t come across as occasionally sympathetic. His inability to cope with being put in his place is only undone by his ambition to move beyond being ‘second’.

We also get a glimpse of his past through his brief conversation with Aladdin, suggesting that Jafar has had to claw his way to the top, and hence constantly hungers for power. That hunger has made him evil and cruel (see: his efforts to invade Shehrabad, and disposing of Aladdin after he risked his life to get Jafar the magic lamp).

While Shylock deserved his comeuppance, his punishment was racially motivated and arguably disproportionate to his crime—Portia even alludes to it in court.

Jafar’s punishment is fitting as he is hoisted by his own petard, but his fate is worse than death, as the Genie can attest to. Considering there’s been talk of a possible sequel, the return of Jafar could see him being aptly peeved with his new circumstances.

The Best Friends

In the original Aladdin animated film, the Genie appeared mostly as a plot device. He didn’t really have much characterization other than being charming comic relief. This is not to diminish the character in any way, but the remake certainly adds a little more dynamism to Will Smith’s Genie.

Genie gets more screen time, and has his own romantic sub-plot. He is defined by his optimism, and acts as a mentor figure to Aladdin as well as being his friend. Genie, in essence, is a conglomeration of both Antonio and Gratiano. Aladdin leans heavily on him as his own private bank (a la Bassanio in The Merchant of Venice, but more on that later), calling on the Genie more often in times of need rather than real friendship. The two of them do converse, however, about Aladdin’s prospects and Genie’s dreams, putting the characters on more of an even keel, similar to Bassanio’s relationship with his friend Gratiano.

Genie consistently pushes the boundaries of his magic for Aladdin, not necessarily at Aladdin’s behest, but because Genie seems to really like his new ‘master’, a little like Antonio, who literally puts his life on the line for Bassanio.

The verisimilitude of Genie’s and Aladdin’s parallel romances is what calls The Merchant of Venice to mind, and cements the comedic Shakespearean aspect of the film. In the original film, Jasmine didn’t have a handmaiden to reveal her aspirations to; in the remake she has Nasim Pedrad’s Dalia.

Dalia is the only original character added to the main cast, and she’s there to add some much-needed female representation to a film that, otherwise, is populated by male characters. Dalia is the heart of the film—she’s funny, relatable, and effervescent in a way that none of the other characters are allowed to be. If you’re like me, you probably fell for Dalia because of her bubbly personality.

In the subtlest of trope subversions, it is the Genie who catches Dalia’s eye in the film, rather than the other way around. When Genie has to distract Dalia so Aladdin can make his move, the two of them connect and a romance flourishes off-screen much like the one between Gratiano and Portia’s handmaiden Nerissa.

I love that Dalia is almost constantly by Jasmine’s side, even in later scenes when Jafar is confronting the Sultan and Jasmine with his new powers. She’s there as a massive support for her friend, but also to witness the truth about Genie’s real identity. This makes her more like Nerissa and that’s a boon for the film.

The Leading Lady

The biggest difference between the original and the live-action remake of Aladdin is Jasmine. Naomi Scott’s Jasmine has more of a backstory, albeit a rather archaic one. Her father’s concern that his daughter will perish much like his wife, the Queen of Agrabah, leads him to be overprotective of her, stifling Jasmine of adventure and opportunity.

But Jasmine takes most matters into her own hands, much like Portia. She constantly reminds her father about her political prowess, and she’s only undermined by Jafar’s meddling. The moment Jasmine gets the chance to step up, she does.

Portia was bound to her father’s ridiculous clause that she marries the man who finds her likeness in a casket. It’s supposed to be a test of their intelligence, but as we see over the course of the play, intelligence has little to do with winning Portia’s hand.

Portia’s fate is seemingly dictated by her father’s decree, but when she realizes that her preferred suitor is Bassanio, she subtly nudges him towards the correct casket thereby choosing her own husband. The fact that Bassanio doesn’t deserve her is a different story (and one that will be touched upon shortly).

Jasmine’s fate is similar to Portia’s—to free herself of the Sultan’s loving yet iron grip, she must marry a Prince, who will eventually rule in the Sultan’s place, while Jasmine becomes the queen. This is not Jasmine’s ambition. She wants to be the Sultan of Agrabah, because how can she possibly expect a foreign stranger to rule over her people as a benevolent Sultan? But the rules don’t allow it, as Jafar and the Sultan constantly remind her.

Unlike the original animated films that focused on Jasmine’s ability to choose the love of her life, 2019s Aladdin allows Jasmine to show her mettle and her bravery to eventually become Sultan in her own right. She commands healthy respect from everyone around her, except Jafar, and her own father—the latter because of his worry, the former because of his insecurity.

Jasmine even has her own ‘Quality of Mercy’ moment a la Portia, but hers is less successful. Through the powerful song, "Speechless", which is the only new song added to the soundtrack of the new film, Jasmine’s true character comes to life. She’s a fighter, but she doesn’t use her fists to get her way (in fact, no one in this film does, which is surprising considering how much Hollywood glorifies violence). Instead, Jasmine speaks to the heart—convincing her loyal general Hakim to do the right thing and turn against his new Sultan, Jafar.

Unfortunately, Jasmine’s plan falls through when Jafar becomes a sorcerer and threatens to kill Jasmine’s father if he doesn’t relinquish his position, and if she doesn’t marry him. What would Jasmine have done if Aladdin hadn’t arrived in the nick of time to rescue her from her own wedding? We will never know, but the film would have been so much better if Jasmine had a hand in saving the day, much like Portia.

Portia’s intelligent interpretation of the law led to the annulment of Shylock’s ridiculous plan to exact a pound of Antonio’s flesh, but she had to do it all in disguise as a man (because ancient times). Jasmine was blatant about her potential, but was stifled by archaic sensibilities. Thankfully, Jasmine was able to transcend those obstacles, become Sultan at the end, and get the boy. Portia, on the other hand, was stuck with Bassanio, that’s not a win in anyone’s book.

The Hero

2019 Aladdin is what Bassanio should have been in The Merchant of Venice. A kind and generous man who deserves the love of a smart and intelligent woman, and makes a better life for both of them. Let’s be honest, we all know that Bassanio was little more than a gold digger. His interest in Portia was fueled by his need to pay off his debts, especially the copious amounts of money that he owed Antonio.

Bassanio came with little intelligence and less creed. The only reason he ‘won’ Portia’s hand was because she cheated by playing a song that alluded to which casket housed her portrait. Bassanio couldn’t even figure that out by himself!

My guess is that the dude was something of a looker, because I can’t see any other reason why Portia would have given him the time of day. Admittedly Portia’s options weren’t great, but Bassanio couldn’t possibly have been the best of the rest either.

Now, Mena Massoud’s Aladdin comes across as a self-confident ‘street rat’, who wishes for a better life, one where he isn’t called such insults. In the original ‘Aladdin’, the protagonist was equally kind, but he coveted wealth and a place in the palace. Then he fell for Jasmine, and decided to use the Genie’s help to become a prince and marry Jasmine.

Massoud’s Aladdin has much smaller ambitions—he wants to be with Jasmine, and the only way he can do so is by becoming a prince. He doesn’t consider wealth at all. In fact, when the Genie makes him into Prince Ali of Ababwa, Aladdin’s reaction is to share his wealth with his fellow denizens of Agrabah.

He isn’t all perfect, however. Once Aladdin has won over Jasmine as Prince Ali, he reneges on his promise to free the Genie so that he can use his help to continue the charade. That plan works for a hot minute. The moment his friends turn against him, Aladdin is back at his ‘humble abode’ contemplating losing the woman he loves when he tells her the truth.

Aladdin is very much the opposite of toxic masculinity, even though he gets to save the day and get the girl. Well, in essence, the girl gets him, because the moment Jasmine is made Sultan she chases after Aladdin and commands him to return to her.

More than anything, Aladdin comes across as a smart cookie. Like in the original film, he uses his brains to stop Jafar, rather than his fists. This continues to be a rarity in blockbuster films. As mentioned earlier, this film lacks violence, which is a refreshing change.

The biggest difference between Bassanio and Aladdin is that the latter is quite a relatable character. Despite Aladdin’s magic lamp and flying carpet, his actions reflect those of our own. He’s understandably hesitant to interact with Jasmine after making a complete fool of himself during his introduction as Prince Ali. He makes up for being a jerk to his friends, and Aladdin is infinitely humble when he’s outed by Jafar to Jasmine, the Sultan, and Dalia. We can’t say the same about Bassanio.

Aladdin is such a joyful film that subverts expectations by simply embracing how unique its existence is. The cast look to be enjoying themselves, and the additional characterizations for the main characters adds to the depth of the film. Yes, it is silly entertainment at the end of the day, but the archetypes that it portrays can be traced back to the beginnings of world literature, allowing me to bring together two disparate properties that I love and can analyze.

Do you agree with the differences and similarities between ‘Aladdin’ and 'The Merchant of Venice’?