No but guys, GUYS, we need to talk about how important this scene is. Because the commonly accepted lore about unicorns is that they are so good and pure that they’ll only appear to young virginal girls. Because Molly Grue is a middle-aged woman who has been living with bandits for most of her life and is as far from innocent and virginal as you’re likely to get. Because she’s so angry that this creature, embodying everything that society tells her she’s lost, everything she’s thrown away through her own choices, is here now when all that The Unicorn represents is long since behind her. Because she knows, in a way that only someone who’s been steeped in an oppressive system her entire life can ever know, that she’s missed her chance and doesn’t deserve to be seeing a unicorn now.
And you know what? The Unicorn doesn’t give two fucks about her virginity, about her supposed loss of innocence and purity. She’s not repelled by Molly being older, being experienced, being a full human person. None of that has ever mattered to unicorns, only to the people telling stories about them. Not only does she step in to physically comfort her here, but before long this bandit’s wife becomes her friend, closer to her in most ways than Schmendrick.
This story is fucking revolutionary, you guys, and I just have a lot of feelings about it.
I heard Peter S. Beagle speak about this scene at a convention once. He said he just kept writing and writing into the scene and suddenly here was this powerful, moving dialogue which came out very strong and natural, flowing directly from inspiration.
He said it was one of those moments when “the writer just gets really lucky.“
This is really true advice. Some of my most emotional scenes have come unexpectedly after hours of writing.
Close by, a familiar voice said, “Leaving so early, magician? The men will be sorry they missed you.” He turned and saw Molly Grue leaning against a tree. Dress and dirty hair tattered alike, bare feet bleeding and beslimed, she gave him a bat’s grin. “Surprise,” she said.“It’s Maid Marian.”
Then she saw the unicorn. She neither moved nor spoke, but her tawny eyes were suddenly big with tears. For a long moment she did not move; then each fist seized a handful of her hem, and she warped her knees into a kind of trembling crouch. Her ankles were crossed and her eyes were lowered, but for all that it took Schmendrick another moment to realize that Molly Grue was curtsying.
He burst out laughing, and Molly sprang up, red from hair-line to throat-hollow. “Where have you been?” she cried. “Damn you, where have you been?” She took a few steps toward Schmendrick, but she was looking beyond him, at the unicorn.
- The Last Unicorn, Peter S. Beagle
I’ve loved this movie my entire life, but an An Adult Person™ this scene hits me where it hurts
“It would be the last unicorn in the world to come to Molly Grue.”
I don’t know what it says about me that this was the greatest scene in the world to me when I was ten, but goddamn if it isn’t even better now.
The older I get the more this scene matters. And hurts. In a good way ish. But it’s also painful. I haven’t seen this movie in such a long time. Not sure I could handle it this year. Maybe next year.
In the book Schmendrick and the unicorn come across a virgin princess performing a ceremony to call a unicorn, a ritual required before her wedding, and they just stay in the shadows. After the princess leaves, he asks why the unicorn didn’t appear in front of the virgin princess and she responds something like “She didn’t really want me to, it would have scared her” which contrasted with the Molly Grue scene just makes me happy.
Peter s Beagle remains my first, best and most benevolent influence. I’m honored to have been able to tell him so.