In the glittering underbelly of Hollywood’s fairy-tale factory, where dreams are spun from CGI threads and box-office bombs lurk like wicked stepmothers, Gal Gadot has tossed her crown back into the ring with a flair that’s equal parts audacious and unapologetic. Fresh off the red carpet at the Women’s Guild Cedars-Sinai Snow Ball Gala on November 21, 2025—where she was crowned with the Hollywood Icon Award for her off-screen heroism—the 40-year-old Israeli powerhouse dropped a bombshell that has Disney insiders whispering and fans fracturing into camps of delight and derision. “I would love to do that,” Gadot declared to Us Weekly when pressed on reprising her role as the Evil Queen from Disney’s beleaguered live-action Snow White. Pausing for dramatic effect, her eyes sparkling with that signature blend of charm and steel, she added, “Tell Bob [Iger]. Bob, I’ll do that.” The direct shout-out to Disney’s CEO wasn’t just cheeky; it was a gauntlet thrown at the feet of a studio grappling with its live-action remakes. Seven months after Snow White‘s theatrical debut in March 2025, which limped to a $450 million global haul against a $250 million budget—deemed a disappointment in the post-Barbie era—Gadot’s plea for a villain-centric spinoff feels like a resurrection spell cast over a poisoned well. But in a landscape scarred by controversies, miscasting murmurs, and the relentless churn of IP exploitation, can the Evil Queen rise from the ashes? Or is this just another mirror reflecting Disney’s fractured fairy-tale empire?

Gadot’s entreaty lands at a pivotal crossroads for the Mouse House. Snow White, directed by Marc Webb and reimagined as a feminist-inflected musical with songs by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, was meant to be a glittering return to form after the triumphs of The Little Mermaid and Aladdin. Instead, it became a lightning rod, ensnared in a web of online vitriol that predated its premiere. Gadot, stepping into the iconic role originated by voice actress Lucille La Verne in Disney’s 1937 animated classic, embodied the Queen with a sultry menace: clad in raven gowns embroidered with obsidian ravens, her raven hair cascading like midnight waterfalls, and her voice a velvet blade honed by years of portraying Amazonian warriors. “There’s something so powerful and humbling about it,” she reflected earlier in March 2025 at D23, Disney’s fan expo, while recounting her ritual before the mirror scene: “Magic mirror on the wall—who’s the fairest of them all?” That line, delivered with a hiss that chilled multiplexes, was a high point in a film otherwise panned for its uneven tone—critics like those at Variety praised Gadot’s “commanding presence” but lamented the script’s “woke-washing” of the dwarves into a diverse band of “magical companions,” sparking backlash from purists who decried the erasure of the original’s whimsical ensemble.

The Evil Queen, that archetype of envious elegance, has long been Disney’s darkest jewel—a character whose vanity veils a vortex of insecurity, her apple a symbol of seductive downfall. In the original animation, she’s a tour de force of shadow and silhouette, her transformation into the hag a grotesque ballet of jealousy. Gadot, drawing from her Wonder Woman poise, infused the role with modern edge: a Queen not just plotting Snow’s demise but wrestling with her own obsolescence in a kingdom shifting toward youth and equity. Production wrapped in 2023 after a grueling shoot in the misty forests of England’s Pinewood Studios and Wales’ enchanted glens, where Gadot reportedly bonded with co-star Rachel Zegler over vocal warm-ups and shared dreams of empowering young viewers. Zegler, the 24-year-old breakout from West Side Story, brought a fiery agency to Snow White, retooling the damsel into a leader who forges her own path with the aid of seven diverse allies—portrayed by talents like Martin Klebba as a wise-cracking Bashful and Jordan Firstman as a tech-savvy Doc. Supporting the leads was a luminous ensemble: Andrew Burnap as the roguish Prince Jonathan, Tituss Burgess as the flamboyant Magic Mirror with a sassy AI twist, and a cameo cascade from Disney alums like Idina Menzel voicing a spectral raven.

Yet, for all its visual splendor—lensed by cinematographer Mandy Walker in lush, jewel-toned palettes that evoked the original’s hand-painted cells—Snow White stumbled out of the gate. Pre-release, Zegler’s comments on updating the “outdated” prince storyline ignited a firestorm, with conservative commentators branding it “anti-romance propaganda.” Gadot, no stranger to geopolitical crossfire given her Israeli heritage, faced her own heat: accusations of “tone-deaf” casting in a tale tied to European folklore, amplified by her vocal support for Israel amid the ongoing Middle East tensions. Online trolls dubbed her the “Real Evil Queen,” memes juxtaposing her red-carpet glamour with apple emojis flooding TikTok. Box-office analysts pointed to broader woes—post-pandemic audience fatigue with musicals, a crowded March slate clashing with Dune: Part Two, and whispers of reshoots to soften the Queen’s villainy—as culprits for the underwhelm. Disney, ever the optimist, spun it as a “solid performer” on Disney+ streams, where it cracked the top 10 in 50 countries. But whispers of shelved sequels and reevaluated IP pipelines suggest the fairy tale’s magic fizzled faster than a witch’s brew.

Enter Gadot’s gala gambit, a moment of levity amid the event’s somber undertones. Honored for raising millions for pediatric care—ironic, given her near-fatal brain clot during pregnancy last year, saved by Dr. Shlee Song, who presented her award—Gadot’s interview turned the spotlight back to her villainess. “Tell Bob Iger” wasn’t mere banter; it evoked the spinoff blueprint Disney has mined gold from before. Recall Maleficent (2014), Angelina Jolie’s thorn-crowned triumph that grossed $758 million and spawned a sequel, humanizing the sleeping curse-caster with maternal ferocity. Or Cruella (2021), Emma Stone’s punk-rock reimagining of the fur-obsessed fiend, which clawed $233 million despite pandemic hurdles and birthed sequel buzz. These “villain origin” tales flip the script, granting antagonists backstories laced with tragedy—abuse, betrayal, societal scorn—that blur the line between monster and misunderstood. For the Evil Queen, a spinoff could delve into her alchemical youth elixirs, a forbidden romance with a shadowy sorcerer, or her rise from royal courtier to regicidal schemer, perhaps intersecting with other Disney dark ladies like Ursula or the Queen of Hearts in a multiverse mash-up.

Gadot’s enthusiasm isn’t feigned; she’s long championed complex women, from Diana Prince’s lasso of truth to Death on the Nile‘s femme fatale. “Playing a character bigger than life is a thrill,” she told Entertainment Weekly during promo tours, hinting at untapped depths: a Queen haunted by her own reflection, her jealousy a mask for infertility woes or a coup d’état scarred psyche. Fans, divided as ever, erupted online. #EvilQueenSpinoff trended with 200,000 posts in 24 hours, a split canvas of adoration (“Gal slayed—give her the throne!”) and scorn (“After that flop? Mirror says no!”). TikTok theorists spun wild concepts: a prequel where the Queen mentors a young Maleficent, or a horror-tinged origin echoing The Witch. On Reddit’s r/DisneyTheories, threads ballooned to 5,000 upvotes, dissecting how Gadot’s bilingual prowess could infuse Hebraic folklore twists—apples from the Tree of Knowledge, perhaps? Yet, detractors, echoing Snow White‘s review-bombing, decried it as “peak Disney desperation,” with one viral X post quipping, “Gal as Evil Queen again? That’s not a spinoff; that’s a curse.”

The fan schism mirrors broader Disney dilemmas. Under Iger’s second act, the studio’s live-action lane has hit potholes: Pinocchio and Peter Pan & Wendy vanished into streaming obscurity, while The Little Mermaid swam to $569 million buoyed by Halle Bailey’s Ariel. Villain spinoffs, though, remain a seductive siren—profitable, self-contained, and ripe for A-list allure. Imagine Gadot’s Queen in a Descendants-style YA romp, her daughter a brooding anti-heroine, or a prestige HBO Max series exploring her psychological descent, directed by a Patty Jenkins reunion. Gadot’s slate is packed—The Runner, a thriller with Caleb Landry Jones, drops in 2026, alongside In the Hand of Dante with Oscar Isaac—but her Disney dalliance hints at unfinished business. “The Queen’s story doesn’t end with an apple,” she teased in a post-gala Instagram story, a raven emoji fluttering across her feed.

As November 2025’s chill settles over Burbank, Iger’s war room buzzes with calculations. Moana 2‘s tidal wave success offers breathing room, but Snow White‘s frostbite lingers. A Gadot-led spinoff could thaw relations with fickle audiences, leveraging her 110 million Instagram followers for viral marketing. Or it risks amplifying echoes of the original’s discord—Zegler’s absence a glaring void, her post-release pivot to *Spielberg’s West Side Story sequel underscoring the rift. Gadot, ever the diplomat, has downplayed the drama: “Success isn’t guaranteed; it’s a mosaic of factors,” she noted at the gala, her words a subtle nod to the film’s stumbles without finger-pointing.

In the end, Gadot’s plea is a mirror held to Disney’s soul: Will the fairest kingdom of them all embrace its shadows, or shatter under the weight? As fans clamor and critics carp, one thing’s certain—the Evil Queen’s allure endures, her poisoned lips curving in a knowing smile. Bob Iger, if you’re listening, the message is clear: The crown awaits. And Gal Gadot? She’s ready to wear it, warts, witches, and all.