The 90s was an excellent time for films, and one of the most iconic releases that’s still so much fun to watch today is Matilda. Released in 1996 and starring a young Mara Wilson, it’s based on the bestselling novel by Roald Dahl and follows the story of a remarkably bright young child surrounded by adults who do not appreciate her.
This was one of my absolute favourite films as a child, and I must have watched it hundreds of times growing up. Earlier this week, I had a film night with friends and we decided to stick it on for old times’ sake. But as we were watching the familiar scenes, I had a horrifying realisation – I found myself sympathising with the evil headmistress of Matilda’s school, Miss Trunchbull.
If you’ve seen the film or read the book, you’ll know all about Miss Trunchbull. Head of Crunchem Hall and feared by children, parents and pretty much anybody who crosses her path, this villain is about as iconic as they come.
After all, who can forget that classic scene where she showcases her Olympian skills, flinging poor Amanda Thripp over a fence by her pigtails? Or when she locks poor Matilda in the cramped cupboard with nails sticking out of the door, known as The Chokey?
And we all remember our jaws dropping when it was revealed she was actually the auntie of the lovely Miss Honey, Matilda’s teacher who ends up adopting her at the end. Sure, she was pretty evil, but I’ll admit it – I felt sorry for her watching the film.
First of all, she has her home broken into – and ransacked – by Miss Honey and Matilda in that nail-biting scene where they’re snooping around and she unexpectedly returns to the house. Technically it’s Miss Honey’s home belonging to her late father, but she doesn’t live there, and hasn’t done in years. Miss Trunchbull flies into a rage when she realises she’s got intruders, which is completely fair enough. I would have acted the same way.
As if that wasn’t enough, Matilda then returns one stormy night to sit out on the roof and use her Poltergeist-like powers to wreak all kinds of psychological warfare on poor Miss Trunchbull. God forbid a woman wants to practise her javelin throwing in her living room of an evening – she doesn’t need to see a portrait of her deceased brother fly down the stairs and position itself above the fireplace, knocking her own picture into the flames in the process.
It’s also revealed at the beginning of the film that Miss Trunchbull purchased a faulty car from Matilda’s father, a very dodgy dealer who only cares about making a quick buck and doesn’t care that he’s cheated his way to being rich.
So when said car inevitably breaks down, this only adds to her frustration – and my empathy for her. We’ve all been there! Mind you, I’ve never used a nunchuck to smash up a bird feeder when my car battery has died, but nobody’s perfect.
And if it couldn’t get any worse for her, imagine heading into the staff room at lunch, ready to tuck into a delicious slice of chocolate cake, only to find that a child has scoffed it. This would be the final straw for me – no wonder she was so raging.
I do still think her reactions were a tad on the extreme side. But she’s definitely not the evil, unreasonable villian I thought she was as a child – maybe just misunderstood instead.