Let’s get this out of the swamp: Shrek is not the ogre ally you think he is. Sure, he’s an ogre. Sure, he lives in a swamp, eats eyeballs like olives, and has a roar that can clear out an entire Disney knock-off kingdom. But let’s not confuse identity with ideology. I am here to make a bold, probably an obvious claim: Shrek hates ogres, including himself, especially himself.
You may be thinking, “But wait! Shrek taught us it’s OK to be different, that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and that ogres are like onions!” Well, sure. But onions also make people cry. Shrek’s layers? Stinky.
Here’s the love story: a classic grumpy/sunshine trope. A tale of a surly ogre who falls in love with a beautiful princess, who then turns out to also be an ogre. At first glance, it’s empowering, it’s feminist. By the 98th viewing, the fragments begin to make themselves present. The main fragment is that Shrek fell for the human Fiona.
By this point, I can feel a bunch of you disagreeing with me — yes, I can. But I have the proof to dispel you from your erroneous ways of thinking. Exhibit A, your honours, the scene where Fiona confesses her ogre-ness to Donkey. Shrek overhears her say, “Who could ever love a beast so hideous and ugly?” Instead of hearing her out or allowing her to explain herself, he throws a FIT! Like, daddy chill.
Even after discovering that Fiona is an ogre by night, Shrek doesn’t immediately say, “Cool, we can be gross together.” No. He mopes. He pouts. He hands her to Lord Farquaad, a man with the charisma of a soggy breadstick.
To be honest, I almost wish that Fiona had married Lord Farquaad. At least he would’ve provided for her. He’s got the bob look going for him, and he has an army. Who cares about his milk-boarding habits in the cellar — It’s not like I am a gingerbread woman.
And don’t even get me started on the sequels. In Shrek 2, Shrek literally drinks a magical potion to turn himself into a human just so Fiona will love him more. And guess what? He loves himself more, too! He struts, and smoulders. The ogre was thriving. The only time he’s ever confident and happy is when he looks like a medieval Liam Hemsworth, who happens to be the least loved Hemsworth. Yeah, Liam, I will never forgive you for what you’ve done to Miley.
We need to call it what it is: internalized ogrephobia. Shrek, despite his gruff charm and thick accent, never really embraces his ogre identity. He tolerates the way some people tolerate beige. He accepts being an ogre the way I accept a parking ticket — grudgingly. He never wanted a fairytale ending with an ogre bride. He wanted a normal, non-sludge-covered life with a princess who had fewer warts.
So the next time you watch Shrek, pay close attention. Behind the earwax candles and mud baths lies a bitter truth: Shrek doesn’t love ogres. And if Fiona had stayed human, Shrek wouldn’t have complained. He’d have probably installed a bidet and learned how to use a napkin.
