Rachel Zegler and No Dwarfs

The Fairest of Them All

In the heart of Hollywood, where dreams are spun into celluloid and fortunes rise and fall with the flicker of a projector, a storm was brewing. It wasn’t the kind of storm that rattled windows or uprooted trees, but one that churned through the corridors of power, whispered in the backrooms of studios, and exploded across the digital ether. At its center was a young actress, Rachel Zegler, barely twenty-three, with a voice like a nightingale and a fire in her soul that would soon ignite a conflagration no one could have foreseen. This was no ordinary tale of Tinseltown ambition; this was a saga of ideals clashing with commerce, of a fairy tale twisted into a crucible of modern politics, and of a young woman who dared to speak her truth in a world that demanded silence. This was the story of Disney’s *Snow White* remake, and the controversy that threatened to bury it.

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The year was 2021, and the House of Mouse, that sprawling empire built on the dreams of a long-dead visionary named Walt, was riding high. Its live-action remakes—*Aladdin*, *The Lion King*, *Beauty and the Beast*—had raked in billions, turning nostalgia into cold, hard cash. The executives in Burbank, with their tailored suits and calculated smiles, saw no reason why *Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs*, the 1937 animated classic that started it all, couldn’t be polished up for a new generation. They hired Marc Webb, a director with a knack for heartfelt spectacle, and tapped Greta Gerwig, the darling of indie cinema, to co-write the script. The budget was set at a staggering $270 million, a figure that made even the most seasoned producers blink. But Disney wasn’t just remaking a movie; they were reimagining a myth, and they needed a star to carry it.

Enter Rachel Zegler, a Jersey girl with Colombian roots and a Golden Globe already gleaming on her shelf for *West Side Story*. She was a natural choice: her voice could melt hearts, her presence radiated sincerity, and her Latina heritage promised to broaden the appeal of a princess whose skin, in the old tale, was famously “as white as snow.” But the moment her casting was announced in June 2021, the internet erupted. On platforms like X and TikTok, a vocal minority—self-styled guardians of tradition—decried the choice. “Snow White’s supposed to be pale as death!” they howled, as if a fairy tale could be bound by the rigid rules of genealogy. Zegler, never one to shrink from a fight, fired back on Twitter with a now-deleted quip: “Yes I am Snow White no I am not bleaching my skin for the role.” The shot was fired, and the culture wars had their newest battleground.

The backlash wasn’t just about race, though that was the spark. It was about ownership, about who got to claim a story that had been told and retold for centuries. The Brothers Grimm hadn’t exactly copyrighted Snow White, but to some fans, Disney’s 1937 version was sacred, a relic of a simpler time when princesses dreamed of princes and dwarfs whistled while they worked. Zegler’s casting was a challenge to that nostalgia, a reminder that the world had changed—and not everyone was happy about it.

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By 2022, the production was in full swing, but the ground was already shifting beneath it. COVID had delayed filming, inflating costs and fraying nerves. A fire on set didn’t help, nor did the looming threat of an actors’ strike that would later force costly reshoots. But the real trouble came when Zegler opened her mouth—not to sing, but to speak. At Disney’s D23 Expo in September 2022, she gave an interview to Extra TV that would haunt her for years. “The original cartoon came out in 1937, and very evidently so,” she said, her tone light but pointed. “There’s a big focus on her love story with a guy who literally stalks her. Weird, weird. So we didn’t do that this time.” She went on to describe a Snow White who wasn’t pining for a prince but chasing leadership, a heroine whose journey was about “finding her true self.”

The words were like gasoline on a smoldering fire. Clips of the interview went viral, chopped and spliced to maximize outrage. Right-wing commentators like Matt Walsh pounced, accusing Zegler of “publicly talking about how much she despises Snow White.” The son of the original film’s director, David Hand, told *The Telegraph* that his father and Walt Disney would be “turning in their graves.” Fans of the 1937 classic felt betrayed, as if Zegler had spat on a sacred text. To them, her comments weren’t just critique; they were heresy.

Zegler didn’t back down. In an October 2022 interview with *Vanity Fair*, she doubled down, calling the original cartoon “an 85-year-old story” that needed updating. “People are making these jokes about ours being the PC Snow White, where it’s like, yeah, it is—because it needed that,” she said. Her defenders, including film critics and progressive fans, argued she was right: the 1937 film, for all its groundbreaking animation, leaned on dated tropes—a passive heroine, a prince whose kiss bordered on non-consensual. But to her critics, Zegler was an ungrateful upstart, a young actress biting the hand that fed her. 

The controversy wasn’t just about her words. It was about her demeanor—charming to some, glib to others. Zegler had a history of speaking her mind, sometimes to her detriment. In 2022, she’d posted a dramatic reading of Britney Spears’ tweets during a public feud between Spears and her sister, a move many called insensitive given the #FreeBritney movement. Her candor, while refreshing to her fans, made her a lightning rod in a Hollywood that preferred its stars polished and predictable.

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Then came the dwarfs—or rather, the lack thereof. In 2022, *Game of Thrones* star Peter Dinklage, himself a little person, called out Disney on Marc Maron’s *WTF* podcast for remaking a “f—ing backwards story about seven dwarfs living in a cave together.” His words hit hard, exposing the ableism baked into the original tale. Disney, caught off guard, scrambled to respond. They announced that the Seven Dwarfs would be reimagined as CGI “magical creatures” of diverse genders, heights, and ethnicities, a move meant to sidestep stereotypes. But the decision backfired. Actors with dwarfism, like Dylan Postl, felt robbed of roles they’d long aspired to play. The CGI creatures, glimpsed in leaked set photos, looked uncanny to fans, fueling accusations that Disney was sanitizing the story to appease the “woke” crowd.

The dwarfs debacle was a microcosm of the larger fight: how do you modernize a fairy tale without losing its soul? Disney’s answer—CGI characters and a vague nod to inclusivity—satisfied no one. Traditionalists mourned the loss of the iconic dwarfs, while advocates for disability representation saw a missed opportunity. The studio, desperate to avoid offense, had offended everyone.

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The real firestorm hit in August 2024, when Zegler posted on X about the *Snow White* trailer, which had racked up 120 million views in 24 hours. “I’m gonna get outta here,” she wrote, signing off with, “and always remember, free palestine.” The post, tacked onto a thread promoting Disney’s $270 million tentpole, was like a match struck in a room full of dynamite. It garnered 8.8 million views, dwarfing the trailer’s buzz.

Inside Disney, panic set in. A studio executive contacted Zegler’s team, expressing dismay that she’d mixed politics with promotion. Marc Platt, the film’s producer, flew to New York to confront her in person. But Zegler, whose support for Palestine dated back to 2021, stood firm. The post stayed up.

The fallout was swift and brutal. Death threats spiked against Zegler’s co-star, Gal Gadot, an Israeli actress who’d served in the IDF and was vocal in her support for Israel. Disney, already footing a hefty security bill for Gadot, had to beef up protection for the mother of four. Pro-Palestine activists called for a boycott of the film over Gadot’s stance, while pro-Israel groups targeted Zegler. Rumors of a feud between the two actresses swirled, fueled by reports that they “had nothing in common” and clashed over their political views. Though they presented together at the 2025 Oscars, their interactions were cool, professional, and carefully choreographed.

Zegler’s politics didn’t stop at Palestine. After the 2024 U.S. presidential election, she posted on Instagram, “May Trump supporters and Trump voters and Trump himself never know peace.” The backlash was immediate: Trump supporters vowed to boycott *Snow White*, and conservative pundits like Megyn Kelly piled on. Zegler apologized, but the damage was done. Disney, already reeling from the Gaza controversy, saw their family-friendly blockbuster turning into a political landmine.

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By the time *Snow White* premiered on March 15, 2025, at the El Capitan Theatre, Disney was in damage-control mode. The Los Angeles premiere was scaled back—no red-carpet press, only Disney-employed interviewers like Jodi Benson, the voice of Ariel. The U.K. premiere was scrapped entirely, replaced with a low-key event in Segovia, Spain. Advance ticket sales didn’t start until less than two weeks before release, a stark contrast to Disney’s usual month-long campaigns. The studio’s massive marketing machine, typically a juggernaut, was eerily quiet, as if they hoped the film would slip into theaters unnoticed.

It didn’t work. The film opened to a dismal $43 million domestically, $87 million worldwide, a far cry from the billion-dollar hauls of Disney’s earlier remakes. Critics were savage: *The Guardian* called it “exhaustingly awful,” slamming Gadot’s “disaster” of a performance. *Rolling Stone* mocked the CGI dwarfs as “cringeworthy.” On IMDb, the film was review-bombed, with 91.3% of 302,000 votes giving it one star, prompting a rare warning about “unusual voting activity.” Rotten Tomatoes showed a 40% critic score, though audiences gave it a 72% on the Popcornmeter.

Disney’s brass pointed fingers. A *Variety* article, penned by Tatiana Siegel, laid much of the blame at Zegler’s feet, accusing her of “dragging her personal politics” into the film’s promotion. An anonymous “top agent” rebuked Disney for letting a 23-year-old “control the narrative.” Marc Platt’s son, Jonah, took to Instagram, slamming Zegler for damaging the film’s box office with her “Free Palestine” post. The article sparked a backlash of its own: fans and journalists, including *Vanity Fair*’s Chris Murphy and film critic David Ehrlich, called it a “hit piece,” accusing Disney of scapegoating Zegler to deflect from the film’s deeper flaws. Over 50 journalists signed an open letter condemning *Variety*’s reporting. Actress Melissa Barrera, fired from *Scream 7* for her own pro-Palestine stance, praised Zegler’s “integrity.”

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The truth, as always, was murkier than the headlines. *Snow White*’s failure wasn’t just about Zegler’s tweets or Gadot’s politics. The film itself, despite Zegler’s lauded performance, was a mess—overbudget, overstuffed, and lacking the magic of its predecessor. Disney’s live-action remakes were losing steam, with flops like *Dumbo* and *Maleficent: Mistress of Evil* signaling a fatigued audience. The culture wars, amplified by social media, had turned a fairy tale into a proxy for every grievance, from “woke” casting to geopolitical strife. And Zegler, with her unapologetic voice, had become both scapegoat and icon.

As the dust settled, Zegler moved on. She took to the stage in a West End production of *Evita*, reminding the world of her prodigious talent. Her fans rallied, trending her name on X with messages of support. The film, meanwhile, limped along, banned in Lebanon over Gadot’s Israeli ties and projected to lose Disney hundreds of millions.

In the end, the *Snow White* saga wasn’t just about a movie. It was about a young woman caught in the crosshairs of a divided world, about a studio grappling with its own legacy, and about a fairy tale that couldn’t escape the weight of reality. Rachel Zegler, for better or worse, had become the fairest of them all—not for her beauty, but for her refusal to bend. And in Hollywood, where stories are bought and sold, that was the most dangerous thing of all. 

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