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sidhebeingbrand · 1 year

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Time to Be Normal about Mandos on Main again

I really only have a main these days

TIME TO BE NORMAL ABOUT MANDOS ON MAIN AGAIN

This time it's about the presumption of loss built into their culture as defined by Karen Traviss and possibly hinted at in the new Didney canon

Blanket disclaimer that I am Aware of the Problematic Aspects of the Republic Commando Books. Like, I read the first trilogy, i saw them, I was there, Frodo.

But without those books and this author, we don't get Aayhan. Which is… it's neat.

hOkAY so in the RC books and KT's surrounding writing there are a few concepts that really Make mandos for me? Like as differentiated from any Noble Warrior People #253. 'A strong warrior code' is great and all but the specificity of the Mandalorian wordlview is…

I just like them, okay, I think they're neat.

SO ONE THING: is that Mandalorians used to worship gods. They don't anymore, but the concepts of them remain-- the god who represented the worst things in the universe, the one who would 'kill' your spirit, was Arasuum. A god of sloth and stagnation. The word arasuum still means 'stagnation' in Mando'a the same way that 'jovial' still means a good time bro even though the worship of Jupiter has strongly fallen off.

There was a trickster god, too, more neutral, and the Best god, the one mandalorians strove to emulate, was Kad Ha'rangir. Literally translates to 'the blade that makes ash?' A destroyer god, and a god of creation. The ideas are linked in the Mandalorian language-- creation comes from destruction, is only POSSIBLE with destruction. The greatest evil is everything staying the same. The greatest good is making new, and that comes with the end of things that are old.

(It is probably a heretical view that one needs a balance between the two-- Mandalorian stability and tradition are old. The language lives and gains new words and new ways to use those words but it has stayed more comprehensible than, say, Basic, which seems to have undergone massive levels of change within Yoda's lifetime. Is that not the hand of Arasuum? I bet the religious arguments about that ended up with the opposing philosophers in traction and that was the Really Polite Discourse)

What remains in the culture now that the gods are gone is this-- that the universe is not a battle between Good and Evil, Kind and Cruel, but Stagnation and Creation.

(ANd I watch The Mandalorian which is not bound to the concepts in the RC, I know that, but I also see: Bo Katan sits on her throne, staring at nothing, defeated, in the hands of Arasuum Bo Katan rises to the moment, throws off her stagnation, becomes Active, becomes Mandalorian once more.)

But anyway ANOTHER THING is that KT writes the Mandalorians as spiritually nomads, no matter how stable their current living situation. The only TRUE home a Mandalorian is guaranteed is within the Manda after death. A Mandalorian is not bound to a planet. A Mandalorian is Mandalorian because they have a mandalorian soul. And to have a Mandalorian soul is to know that at any time half the galaxy is pissed off at you, and you're pissed off at the other half.

There is a cultural expectation-- somewhat lost in later days by Mandalorians who live on Mandalore, but certainly firmly embedded in the minds of the remnant Ha'at'ade, the last of the true Mandalorians, who lost their civil war and saw power and structure ripped away from them.

In fact, their culture overlaps strongly with the Jedi here: they know loss is inevitable, and has to be accepted. That's one of the REALLY HARD lessons of the Jedi, too!

The difference, and likely one of the reasons* that Jedis and Mandos have Historically Not Gotten Along, is their reaction to that principle. Mandalorians don't limit their attachment to the things they know they may lose. Oh, no, they go full bore the other way-- they pour their time and souls into the things they love, and they defend them bitterly, and when they lose them if there is a tangible culprit for that loss they will pour their rage and grief upon that culprit--

(*There are a lot of reasons to be fair)

But then when the vengeance is done, the thing is over. What's lost is lost. Rebuild if you can. Salvage if you can. But you shouldn't be trying to re-enact the past! (TOR. Looking at YOU TOR) You are building the future. You are adapting, because that is how a culture is immortal. The Mandalorian word for immortal, going back to god words, is dar'asuum, and that 'asuum' is-- yeah-- straight from arasuum. No Longer Stagnant: an exulted state where you rise above your inherent inertia.

You can't avoid building because what you build will be destroyed-- you're robbing the future. You're robbing your soul.

Mandos know that everything lovely ends in time, to make room for the new; if it didn't, it would be the most poison fruit. If you can't let go, Arasuum's sleepy fingers twine around your heart, make you slow, complacent. You fight for what you love because you are a warrior, and the Taung's ashes burn inside your blood, but when it is gone it is gone.

Even a home.

(Din Djarin says: You'll have to move the covert. Paz Vizsla says: This is the way)

And you rebuild it from the ash, if it's practical to do so. You break down the old forge and remake it into the new one. You take the shards of glass that were people and homes and infrastructure and the very ground of your planet and you make new things. But you don't rebuild the same. What a fool's errand. What a stagnant thing.

SO THESE THINGS are encapsulated in one of the signature Mando Cultural Experiences, which is Aayhan.

Aayhan is that moment of perfect fulfillment-- of happiness, of peace -- in which you feel the ghosts of those who are not there to see it with you. In which what you have lost tangles with what you have gained. In which you Remember as you Feel. Joy laced with pain to make the joy more piquant.

It's just such-- of course. Of course they have a word for that, of course they IDENTIFY that because what do could you possibly have, if you have lost nothing? Loss is part of life, it is essential, it is what keeps the galaxy turning and the stars burning until they too end. The rage keeps your heart pumping. The threat of it keeps you sharp. The grief throws your joy in brighter relief. Without the danger and the reality of knowing Everything Ends you are a stagnant shell.

Loss is assumed, in their language, in their culture, in the stories they tell and the sensations they seek. And it's when this comes out-- this shape of a culture that is NOT like the one we live in, that is not common in the Galaxy they exist in, which is just-- Mando-- I don't know, it just gets to me. I feel things.

(And Paz Vizsla demands to know why his people should fight on behalf of who have taken from them, due to whom they have lost so much, and it is a rhetorical question: he will answer it himself in the next breath: "Because we are Mandalorians!" )

#mandalorians #mandalorian culture #republic commando canon #disney canon #what awkward roommates they are #aayhan

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marvelstars · 8 months

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Luke´s Jedi School

Now that you think about it, if we consider what happened with Grogu, Luke choosing to start with adults to teach them the basics so they could help him once they started getting younger students like he did in legends makes more and more sense, this is why I really dislike the concept disney has for Luke post ROTJ, they are trying to repeat the exact same Jedi Order from the prequels without considering Luke has neither the means because his school didn´t start as a part of the New Republic or a reason to try to reproduce the same kind of Institution the old Jedi Order was.

He was never told about attachment or about children having to leave their parents to get their training in the movies but he was told about the dangers of the darkside, his formation was about self reflection excercises in how to develop your force skills while also growing a sense of self strong enough to keep themselves from falling to the darkside and I believe the reason was that Yoda wanted to change those aspects of their training as well by focusing more in the substance or the spirit of what a Jedi is and not so much in the form.

He was taught as a young adult, he would have no trouble starting with Leia and other adults who are strong force sensitives or former Jedi and between them truly get started the school for all ages, especially given the main worry Luke had was how to start his school in a way that his students were not in danger of falling to the darkside or at least reduce that possibility the most he could.

I am also not thrilled by the fact that apparently Luke´s school didn´t grow much from it´s first years to 15 years later when Kylo destroyed it which doesn´t make much sense but well, I guess they were truly trying to destroy any kind of legacy Luke could have left as the new grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

#Seriously Disney Luke doesn´t sound like OT Luke and this is the reason #They are doing him dirty and no amount of awesome hall scenes are going to change that disney #Write Luke correctly or go home #luke skywalker #leia organa #legends canon #disney canon #disney critical #star wars #original trilogy

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bg-11 · 1 year

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Me when looking for Star Wars content and finding nothing but Disney/TCW content

#Star Wars #Disney Canon #Anti Disney Canon #Anti TCW #It genuinely disheartens me to see people act like TCW is the bulk of Star Wars content

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disneyat34 · 2 years

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Frozen II at 35

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

Frozen was meant to be a stand-alone work. Released in an era that prioritized sequels and remakes, Disney Animation valued innovation and new ideas. But Frozen was a special case. Frozen was not just a popular film, it was a phenomenon.

The original Frozen was successful, acclaimed, and popular by every metric. Ironically, it was almost too celebrated to make a sequel. Anything that follows up such a landmark production was sure to be a lesser effort by comparison.

Upon completion of the 2015 theatrical short Frozen Fever, Disney decided it was worth the risk. The characters of Frozen were still beloved. Their world was still engaging. The concepts were still fun. The audience was still eager. Disney wanted to return to the world of Frozen, and a sequel was greenlit.

In a show of eagerness, Disney gave themselves a standard four-year production window. Fans and investors alike were expecting Frozen II in theaters by November 2019. Surely, such optimism would in no way backfire.

Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee, writers and directors of the original Frozen, returned to helm Frozen II. The duo branched out, onboarding other official writers. This included storyboard artist and animator Marc Smith. Also joining were Frozen’s soundtrack mavens Robert and Kristen Anderson-Lopez. The award-winning songwriters were no longer consulted just for musical needs. The husband and wife team were contributing story beats as well.

Perhaps five writers were needed to ensure quality. Perhaps it contributed to the increasingly layered and complex plot. Perhaps because the two initial writer/directors were detained with other duties. In 2018, partway through production, Lee was promoted to Chief Creative Officer of Disney Animation.

In the past, I’ve lauded the efforts and contributions of former CCO John Lasseter. I chose my words carefully, knowing full well how his tenure with the company ended. Lasseter, despite his achievements, left Disney on very unfortunate terms.

As CCO, Lasseter’s creative and artistic visions lifted Disney Animation out of a dark age. However, it was his personal behavior that resulted in his departure. Lasseter made frequent salacious remarks and unwanted physical advances towards Disney’s female staff. An ongoing problem, this behavior began when he was at Pixar, and continued well throughout his employment with Disney. He used his power, his authority, and his connections to silence any objection. But after many years and many victims, the secrets erupted. As the allegations went public, Disney removed Lasseter from his role.

Jennifer Lee was promoted to fill the void. This opportunity gave her the dual responsibility of overseeing all of Disney Animation while also continuing to finalize the production of Frozen II. A distracted and overworked director, even one of two co-directors, explains much of the final film.

It was decided early on, Frozen II would be centered on a hook. Elsa would hear a strange, ephemeral voice beckoning her. Four notes, sung across the wind, only she can hear. She’d go on an adventure, trying to find who is calling her and what they want.

Such a foundation should be great a jumping off point for a screenplay. Except nobody on staff knew at the time who this voice would belong to, or what their relation to Elsa would be. Nor did they decide on these factors in a timely manner. Production continued with the idea left ambiguous and undecided, under the assurance the details would be provided down the line. Without a central plot or direction, development of the story proceeded at an awkward, aimless pace.

Everybody had vague ideas about how the movie should look and how it should feel. Nobody knew what the movie should consist of. All they had were odd story bits and scenery. Songs sung about nothing in particular for no known reason. New characters who had no purpose and no reason for existence. And no central story to tie everything together.

In February 2019, the first teaser trailer was released online. It featured Elsa standing on a beach at night, staring down the crashing tides. She attempts to run across the water, daring to breech the ocean waves that crash on top of her. She’s alone, she’s determined, and she’s fighting nature’s might with all her strength.

The trailer garnered interest and buzz. Fans all speculated the same things. Why was Elsa alone? Where was she? Where was she trying to get to? Why was she so desperate to combat nature, not taking a boat, or waiting until the waters calmed?

The filmmakers had no answers because they themselves had the same exact questions. After three years of development, this scene, apart from a few isolated test scenes, was the only completed part of the film. The animators had nothing to animate because the story and storyboards were still changing. The filmmakers didn’t know what Elsa was doing, how she got there, or what it all meant. All they knew was that it looked cool. But they used it for the teaser trailer, so they were obligated to fit it in the film somewhere.

Test screenings of the movie were disasters. Child audiences were either bored or confused. The plot was too convoluted, exposition dumps were unhelpful, and scenes went on too long. The film’s tone was too dark and too dry, lacking the childish humor of its predecessor. Much of the film felt hopelessly bleak.

These test screenings forced rewrites all the way to May, 2019. The plot was simplified, humor was added, and the story moved at a more exciting pace. Frozen II was being rewritten six months before the release date.

There is a docuseries on the making of Frozen II available on Disney+. It was likely intended to be a marketing tool, giving audiences even more Frozen content. It unintentionally depicts the desperate path to completion. Disney higher-ups have edited the series to seem like Frozen II was a labor of love, but the stress bleeds through.

It’s clear everyone involved was deeply invested in the project. The problems weren’t an issue of incompetence, arrogance, or limitations. The film just couldn’t coalesce. At a certain point, the motivation was nothing more than “get it done.”

Frozen II is the end result of a marathon session of rewrites, reworks and re-edits. It’s a miracle a film of any regard came from such a Sisyphean effort. If a release date wasn’t already promised, Frozen II would have very likely languished in development hell for years.

Frozen II takes place three years after the events of the previous film. Life has gone on without significant drama or upheaval. Our heroes are happy. Their kingdom is prosperous. Everything seems fine. All until Elsa begins receiving omens. To find answers, she and her colleagues venture to a mythic land up north. There, they must confront their kingdom’s past, discover their family heritage, learn their destinies, and right a wrong generations in the making.

The first thing one notices about the film, setting it apart from its predecessor, is the color scheme. Frozen was set during an unseasonable winter curse. Its hibernal setting prompted landscapes of icy splendor, including snow-draped landscapes and motifs of white and blue.

The sequel is set in autumn. A variety of arboreal colors interact, focused on reds, violets and deep green. The only scenes featuring snow and ice feature Elsa specifically. The name ‘Frozen’ is doing its setting a disservice.

Once again, color theory is employed to great effect. The first film used its color scheme to reflect Elsa specifically. There was a delicate beauty representing Elsa’s fragile mental state, but also a chilling sense of danger, representing her despair and hostility. The autumnal colors of the sequel represents both Elsa and Anna together. Autumn is a time of transition. Before we know the stakes of the plot, we know the the film will be focusing on impermanence and change.

The first change is one of setting. The first movie took place in Arendelle and its surrounding forests and mountains. The sequel removes our heroes from these familiar areas. They move further north to a land called Northuldra.

Arendelle is a rather undefined place. Its unclear whether its a nation, a nation state, or the capital city within a nation. It’s not important. What is important is, Arendelle is set in a fictionalized version of Norway.

A Norwegian setting was chosen purely for aesthetic reasons in the first film. The sequel uses its real-world counterpart for a fuller narrative effect. Northuldra is an area in the taiga biome, sparsely populated, with only hearty flora and fauna surviving. Its sole human residents are foragers, lacking any permanent structures or colonies. The Northuldran people have a relatively small tribe (about 50 people), but a rich culture.

Northuldra is a stand-in for the Sápmi region and the resident Sámi people. Scandinavians and the Sámi live mostly detached lives to each other. Scandinavians prefer the southern portion of the peninsula for its arable farmland. The Sámi prefer the north, where great populations of reindeer live. This passive cohabitation has preserved the Sámi culture and lifestyle.

The plot of Frozen II uses this cultural relationship as fodder for its own plot. The Arendelle citizens represent Norway, while the Northuldrans represent the Sámi.

Acknowledging Disney’s poor history of depicting indigenous cultures onscreen, the Sámi insisted on a cultural ambassador opportunity. The filmmakers accepted, sending several representatives to Sápmi. They absorbed the culture, made diligent notes, and shared preliminary character models and story bits. This ensured what appeared onscreen was both respectable and accurate.

Also part of the contract, Disney would produce an officially dubbed version of Frozen II in the Sámi language. A genuine gesture of goodwill, and also a clever contract rider. An ignored international demographic now had a movie that would be uniquely theirs.

The Northuldran are depicted as an unknown culture to our heroes. They’re simple, but not primitive. They’re interesting, but not a sideshow. They’re seen as rustic and rural rather than uncivilized or savage.

There are many ways to read the differences between the two groups. Their clothing is one of the most interesting. Anna and Elsa wear dyed fabrics, embroidered with intricate designs. These outfits are clearly handmade and personalized for them. Even Kristoff, laden in fur and leather, is far departed from mere hunting and trapping. Rugged and durable, they’re manufactured all the same.

This contrasts against the Northuldran, all of whom wear a uniform, practical outfit. The prime focus of clothing is not of fashion, but functionality and unity. One type of outfit for one tribe with no extraneous details. If it rips, it can be mended. If it’s ruined, it can be replaced. If more are needed, more can be made.

But this uniformity is not depressing or stifling. In the simplicity, there is beauty. The dulled browns and grays emphasizes a tapestry-like focus to needlework. It’s admirable as a craft, not as couture. What’s more, the monotone appearance emboldens the scenery and the world around them. The people look clean, simple, and humble to emphasize instead the resplendent glory of their forest home. Again, the autumn setting working to the film’s advantage.

One of the most beautiful moments of the film isn’t visual, but musical. Upon Anna and Elsa learning their mother was Northuldran, the entire populace welcome their estranged sisters wholly into their ranks. They do so with a choral performance, strongly implied to be an honorable cultural tradition (Olaf steps on this tradition, but only for a second before the film cuts away).

Although Anna and Elsa are unfamiliar with it, we the audience recognize the song. This is the same choral chant that accompanied the title card of the first Frozen and the studio logos of the second.

But this isn’t a lazy bit of recycling. The filmmakers weren’t considering a canonical use when the number was first performed. They just needed something that sounded Norwegian and somewhat mystical to introduce the Frozen title card. They used a traditional folk song, and that was that.

In the sequel, the piece is given a new context, one inside the film world’s universe. This abstract orchestration has been given a definition and a purpose. It’s an amazing bit of retroactive connectivity that makes the world of Frozen and Frozen II seem like a cohesive, defined unit.

While the score and music are both grandiose accompaniments, nothing quite reaches the heights of its predecessor. The major problem is, Frozen II’s soundtrack is treated as a retread, not a continuation. Many of this film’s big numbers seem to mimic the first film, trying to replicate its success. “Some Things Never Change” is the follow-up to “For the First Time in Forever.” “When I am Older” is the partner of “In Summer.” “Reindeer are Better Than People” gets a reprisal before its spun into a much more bombastic original work.

Elsa gets two numbers, both hoping to copy the success of “Let It Go.” “Into the Unknown” and “Show Yourself” both demonstrate the range and power of Idina Menzel’s voice. Both demonstrate Elsa’s magical abilities front and center. Both hit emotional high notes, highlighting Elsa’s psyche and confidence. Both feature grand demonstrations of animation, letting fantasy visuals of snow and ice accompany the music.

“Show Yourself” goes one step beyond emulation. Just like “Let It Go,” Elsa once again constructs a palace out of ice. Once again she lets her hair down and manifests a glamorous gown. Once again the lyrics serve dual purpose, reflecting both Elsa’s current place in the narrative and her subconscious feelings. They may have been eager to replicate the success of “Let It Go”, but this is desperate.

Frozen II establishes its themes early, the same way a musical puts its auditory motifs into an overture. It introduces everything blatantly, even awkwardly, all sequentially in the beginning. It’s not until later, after the story develops and these themes return, do we see their significance. Until then, it just seems as though everyone is speaking in cryptic platitudes.

Anna and Elsa’s mother sings a lullaby whose origins and significance are a secret. Their father tells a bedtime story from his past which he describes in great detail except for the portion regarding himself. Repeated talk about the comfort of familiarity portends a tragic irony. Anna adopts the tenet of doing the next right thing despite the suggestion not being given to her specifically. Olaf insists water has memory completely unprovoked. The apparitions from “Into the Unknown” are literal displays of what’s about to come. There’s foreshadowing, there’s preludes, and there’s whatever’s going on here.

After this prelude to a means, the movie begins in earnest. Arendelle is besieged by strange natural phenomena. Darkness, droughts, strong winds and earthquakes befall the city, forcing an evacuation. Elsa recognizes this as an ultimatum. She’s not only being beckoned to travel north, she’s being forced.

This is our first insistence that Frozen II is departing from its predecessor. The tonal theme shifts wildly. Our fantasy adventure is turning into a tense, atmospheric drama.

Up north, our heroes are tasked with passing through a mist that has isolated Northuldra for years. Not an ordinary fog, this is a magical forcefield. Only Elsa has the ability to pass through, bringing her companions with her.

The impenetrable boundaries. The feeling of imprisonment. The unfamiliar environment. The lack of sky. The strange colors. The impossible wind patterns. The rising panic. The threat of separation. The sense that everyone’s being watched… Don’t let the bright colors and animated characters distract you from the situation at hand. For five whole minutes, Frozen II is coded like a horror movie. This is a film with a singing snowman, but it feels like something made by Alex Garland.

The first film was a personal journey, focusing heavily on Elsa’s character arc. It was an allegorical tale, broaching topics such as mental illness, identity issues, and suppressed trauma. Frozen II keeps its characters mostly static, though the threat of Elsa backsliding into her old ways is on everyone’s mind.

Instead, the focus is on the family history of Arendelle’s royal family. Before, Elsa and Anna’s parents were just parts of a tragic backstory. They were basically stock characters, and didn’t even have names.

Through carefully placed discoveries, revelations and flashbacks, we learn about the life and death of King Agnarr and Queen Iduna. They met the day Northuldra disappeared. They died searching for the same answers Anna and Elsa are now searching for themselves. They don’t know what caused Northuldra to disappear; they don’t understand the magic involved. They suspected the same magic was responsible for Elsa’s powers, and they wanted answers.

But once again, all this was decided after the fact. No one during the production of the original Frozen considered Agnarr and Iduna’s death to have a significant purpose. These new plot details were considered years later, while the old ones were manipulated in order to establish a timeline. As the movie plays out, it’s easy to forget they didn’t die trying to save Northuldra. They were trying to cure Elsa’s magic, still considered a tragic curse at the time of their deaths.

No one in 2013 thought about Elsa’s magical origins or what it meant. Elsa was magic, and that was enough. Frozen II tried to create a story out of nothingness, with nothing to go on. If they had, these facts could have been integrated better, following a better sense of logic.

Why is the Fire spirit an ordinary salamander sometimes when none of the other spirits have animal forms? Why does the Air spirit have no corporeal form at all beyond wind? Why are there several Earth spirits instead of just one? Elsa is the uniting spirit between Earth, Water, Fire and Air, so why does she have ice powers? Ice is a form of water. She should either have the ability to manipulate all four elements, or have a neutral unassociated fifth power.

It’s a Frankenstein sort of filmmaking, joining together different concepts with mismatched results. The film is full of logical inconsistencies and outrageous behavior. Actions don’t necessarily correspond to decisions made. Characters overreact or underreact to plot details.

Why? The troubled screenwriting process. The only concrete elements of the story were markers. The movie needed to hit those markers in a certain order at a certain rate. When the filmmakers couldn’t guide the film naturally to those markers, they forced it. Sometimes effects and causes were decided at two different iterations of the writing process, leaving them mismatched in the final film.

For example, Kristoff heads to a forest glen to ready a romantic proposal for Anna. He’s maybe five minutes away, but Anna considers this departure a form of abandonment and leaves camp without him. Elsa sees lumbering stone giants and turns her gaze towards them as they pass. Anna considers this evidence that Elsa is about ready to impudently storm off. Elsa has a theory that the wind spirits are guiding her to an island. Rather than explain it’s only accessible to her because of her ice magic, she blindsides Anna and Olaf, magically chucking them into the woods, nearly killing them in the process.

The lack of motivations are distracting, but worse is its heavy nature. The first movie was a fairy tale, this one is a tragedy. Many scenes are too stressful or too dramatic for their own good. Elsa and Anna learn about the untimely fate of their parents. They learn their grandfather was an abhorrent monster. They both face numerous threats of abandonment, injury, and death.

To compensate, humor is shoved into awkward places. Focus groups determined the movie was alienating children. Frozen II needed some softer moments. As such, we have many jokes and vignettes clearly added after the fact, not fully integrated with the plot.

Olaf delivers a one-man show, humorously recounting the plot of the first Frozen. Kristoff gets an absurd love ballad that’s straight from the days of hair metal. A Northuldran herder reveals he also uses ventriloquism to make his reindeer talk, just like Sven. Hans is mentioned surprisingly often, each time dismissed with flippant annoyance. Elsa bashfully regrets her affinity for showy drama, twice cringing when reminded of her “Let It Go" performance.

The original Frozen earned acclaim for making Elsa a complicated character. She was a metaphor, prompting a number of valid discussions. Frozen II tries to be bold with its morality as well, but doesn’t fully succeed in either its message or how its delivered.

Elsa and Anna discover that their grandfather, the former king of Arendelle, betrayed the Northuldran people. He built a giant dam for them under the guise of diplomacy. In reality, it weakened their natural resources. This exploitation forced their dependency on Arendelle. When confronted with these accusations, the king assassinated the Northuldran leader, sparking a war between the two civilizations.

Elsa and Anna, separated during this discovery, each come to terms with a different half of the moral. Elsa’s half focuses on the effects of bigotry. Magic has been empowering for Elsa. It’s coded as a cultural trait, something connecting Elsa to her Northuldran heritage. Her grandfather despised Northuldra for the same reason. Magic is foreign, therefore strange, therefore must be eradicated.

For his intolerance, the king lost everything: his kingdom, his family’s respect, and ultimately his life. Meanwhile, Elsa is actively and emphatically non-racist. She not only excels as a head of state, but she’s powerful, glamorous, popular. Racism is bad, not being racist is good. It’s a very obvious moral, spelled out in no uncertain terms.

Anna’s half of the moral is more subtle, and delivered more effectively. Her portion focuses on racial privilege. Her grandfather’s misdeeds were heinous, but she had no knowledge of them until this point. She has, however, reaped its benefits every day of her life. Her royal title, her wealth, Arendelle’s prosperity, her loving parents, and her magical sister; everything she has comes from Arendelle gaining from Northuldra’s losses.

Anna’s exposure to tragedy, physical exhaustion, psychological trauma, and emotional pain all culminate here. The line of suffering ends with her, and she is taking drastic measures. Anna needs to make things right, even if it seems irrational or insane. She destroys the dam, even if it means flooding Arendelle.

The prophecy called for King Agnarr and Queen Iduna having a child, but they had two. Each needed to prove themselves worthy, independent of the other. Elsa is the one blessed with magical powers, Anna is the one grounded in humanity. Elsa is the one who reunites the magic with Northuldra, while Anna is the one who saves their land. And she does so by destroying the accursed dam.

In the end, she’s justified. Deciding to flood Arendelle was a final test of character. For her actions, the magic forces who have been guiding Elsa intervene, sparing the kingdom, diverting the flood. Not even raising the harbor’s water level. Its unsatisfying knowing that this dramatic sacrifice doesn’t actually involve any sacrifice. The stakes were raised and then lowered without any significance. It’s superficial drama.

The greatest strength of Frozen II is its quality of animation. While the animation of Frozen was great in its own right, the sequel is in another class. Every single frame is filled with rich detail. The animators focused attention on every small detail. Even things the average viewer would never notice or consider. Wood grain in lumber. Stitching on clothing. Condensation on glass. Skin and hair texture.

Elsa is still a cartoon character, but she’s a stunningly detailed cartoon character. You can see freckles, musculature, nailbeds, and individual eyebrow hairs. She spends much of the movie in a bodysuit that defies logic; there’s no collar, it just dissipates into nothingness around her collarbone. The fabric turns into adhesive sequins that turn into skin. And yet, all one can do is admire how each of those sequins are rendered with such careful attention.

The film looks fantastic. To young audiences, those stellar sights can distract from the story which they’re almost guaranteed not to follow.

This is a film where two young lovers perform an act of love while their respective nations devolve into war. For their purity, they are spared from a mystical curse that secludes the warring participants and the land from the outside world. The progeny of the two innocents will be a legendary fifth element, with the ability to control and manipulate ice and snow. This gift will allow her to one day unite the elements, allowing her to learn the truth, and bring harmony to the warring people. In doing so, she must destroy a dam that’s affected the environment. It was deceptively built as an act of goodwill, but was deliberately detrimental, disenfranchising the populace, making them ripe for colonial exploitation. However, destroying the dam will doom her home empire sitting at the base of the river. All this prompts the moral quandaries of whether children are responsible for the transgressions of their forefathers, and whether an empire built on the oppression of others deserves its modern glory.

This is the only film in the Disney Canon that needs its own page on Sparknotes. And remember, this is after a series of rewrites from test screenings calling the film too complex. This is the simplified version.

The end result of Frozen II is a massive film whose failure is its ambition. It’s a complicated plot with too much fantasy lore among a huge familial backstory. Instead of characters defined by their adventure, the characters are already defined. So they’re further defined to excess, explaining every how, who, and why, forgetting the appeal of fantasy is that things don’t always need an answer. As satisfying as it is to learn the origins and purpose of Elsa’s ice powers, it also robs the character of her mystery.

And that in essence was the major failings of Disney’s sequels in 2018 and 2019. They were making follow-ups to stories that didn’t need or anticipate follow ups. There was no story left to tell, so writers forced a story, and it feels forced. We get to revisit old characters we know and love, but what’s new is superficial and clashing. The experience is unrewarding.

While Frozen II did outgross Frozen on an equivalent budget (supplanting it as Disney Animation’s highest grossing film of all time), it killed the studio’s ambition for further sequels. Production was an ordeal, and the film was an overcomplicated mess held together with duct tape and wishes. Had this been a follow-up to any film besides Frozen, things could have been a disaster of Black Cauldron proportions.

To this end, Disney changed its approach to animated sequels. It didn’t matter what the beloved characters were doing, just as long as audiences got to revisit them. If the stakes were that low, there was no point creating a full-length screenplay. Short form content for Disney+ would suffice just the same. After all, Frozen II was made in the first place because the short Frozen Fever was a success.

Frozen II has its strengths, but it’s a confusing and overwhelming experience. Especially considering most of its audience was expecting something simple, or at least comfortable. The movie is overstuffed with ideas, most of which are underdeveloped or disjointed. By making a sequel to their most popular and profitable film, Disney was hoping lightning would strike twice. But in a franchise themed around snow, they should have been more concerned about avalanches. Beauty and the Beast Fantasia The Lion King Frozen Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Cinderella Alice in Wonderland Sleeping Beauty Mulan Zootopia Tangled The Little Mermaid Aladdin Lilo & Stitch The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh Pinocchio The Jungle Book Robin Hood The Sword in the Stone Bambi The Emperor’s New Groove The Hunchback of Notre Dame Moana The Princess and the Frog The Great Mouse Detective Big Hero 6 101 Dalmatians Bolt The Three Caballeros Lady and the Tramp Frozen II The Rescuers Down Under Atlantis: The Lost Empire Wreck-It Ralph The Fox and the Hound Fantasia 2000 Peter Pan Dumbo Hercules Meet the Robinsons Brother Bear The Black Cauldron Melody Time Oliver & Company Treasure Planet Tarzan The Rescuers Pocahontas Saludos Amigos The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad Winnie the Pooh The Aristocats Ralph Breaks the Internet Dinosaur Fun and Fancy Free Make Mine Music Home on the Range Chicken Little

#Frozen ii #Frozen 2 #Disney #walt disney #Walt Disney Animation Studios #disney studios #Disney Canon #film analysis #movie review #Film Criticism

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wellerdanny · 1 month

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The story of How did meleanor and levan meet:

Sebek 😭

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #my art #yuu twst #malleus draconia #twst #lilia vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #silver twst #twst meleanor #meleanor draconia #twst levan #Silver just sleeping there TT TT #LOL the story of their meeting is not Canon I just thought it would be funny to be like that

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shoujoboy-restart · 1 year

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#Disney #pixar #strange worlds #lgbt community #canon lgbt characters #lgbtq community #canon lgbtq characters #discourse #lgbt discourse #lgbtq discourse

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dragonflyable · 5 months

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Such a beautiful montage of Classic Disney...

youtube

#Julia Michaels #A Wish Worth Making #wish #disney wish #wish disney #wish 2023 #wish asha #disney animation #disney #disney classics #i love animation #walt disney #disney canon #disney 100th anniversary #Youtube

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citrus-c0la · 26 days

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NRC Student x Yuu except its my oc Uviel x Yuuka tee hee

#twst #twst oc #twst yuu #yuuka hirasaka #twst yuuka #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #disney twst #twst fanart #twisted wonderland oc #original character #oc x canon #APOLOGIES FOR THE SLIGHT INACTIVITY I GOT BUSY WITH SCHOOL #ily yuuka hirasaka my beautiful wife

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themanedwolf · 1 year

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Ok I finally caught up and finished watching the clone wars series. I've already seen rebels and bad batch so I'm officially (I think) versed on the Disney canon.

Can I just say: WHAT THE FUCK

I was crying through practically the whole last arch or season 7. I knew it was coming obviously but holy shit. And I thought I tortured myself with angst fanfics. From fandom osmosis I knew of the crash but I didn't know it was a whole Venator class star ship. And the scenes with Obi-Wan, he just seems stretched and worn down but shouldering his duty. And Anakin... Yeah I don't wanna talk about him but the lightsaber scene was so powerful.

Anyone who says animation is only for kids or less of an art than live action obviously has never taken the time to peel back the layers of great shows like this one and get lost in their depths.

Idk where I'm going with this. Tldr; clone wars season 7 gutted me like a fish and I need a drink.

#star wars #clone wars #disney canon

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solaceinfandoms · 2 years

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aphrodite being played by multiple actresses because beauty and love is subjective PLEASE

#edit: yes this is canon in the books.. she has an ever shifting form #edit 2: YES ACTORS TOO #percy jackson #pjo fandom #rick riordan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson adaptation #annabeth chase #grover underwood #aphrodite #pjo #pjo adaptation #pjo disney+#pjo tv series #percy jackson tv series #percy jackson tv show

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waywardsunlight · 1 year

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Dadmode

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disneyat34 · 2 years

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Encanto at 35

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

Encanto is the story of Mirabel Madrigal. A young Colombian woman, she lives in an enchanted house, in an enchanted village, with her enchanted family. Unfortunately, Mirabel has the misfortune of being the only Madrigal without a magical gift. Unsure of her role or purpose within her family, she lives life one day at a time. One day, signs and omens appear, indicating something is not right with her family and her home. Her fate is apparent for the first time: Mirabel will be the one to save her family, or else, she'll be the one to destroy it.

“Encanto” is a Spanish word that doesn’t translate directly into English. A close approximation is “enchantingly beloved,” acting as a noun. Both enchanting as beautiful and enchanting as magical. In the context of the film, Encanto both describes the village setting, and serves as the village’s name.

It’s surely no coincidence that the word also ends in “Canto.” Alongside the family name “Madrigal,” the theme's primary focus is apparent. A musical affinity is deliberately interwoven into the film.

Lin-Manuel Miranda returns to helm the music and lyrics. This time, he brings more of his signature flair. With Moana’s soundtrack, Miranda was imitating a classical Disney showtune style. The songs were great, but they were formalist creations. He wrote songs for Disney the way he believed Disney songs were supposed to sound.

The music of Encanto is more representative of Miranda’s style. We hear his trademark wordplay, hip hop influences, boisterous appreciation of showtunes, and a blurring of genre lines.

Miranda went above and beyond experimenting with the various Latin music subgenres. The movie’s Colombian setting presents both traditional folk music and modern styles. All of it formed into a theatrical pop construct. To people unfamiliar with Colombia's musical styles, it sounds beautiful, exotic, and inviting. To those who are, it sounds like a cavalcade portrayal of an underrepresented land.

Just like everything else Lin-Manuel Miranda touches, the fan response and commercial success followed. Encanto’s soundtrack was at the top of the Billboard chart for nine weeks. Every song appeared on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, with five songs cracking the Top 50. “Dos Oruguitas” earned Miranda another Academy Award nomination for Best Original Song. The album went platinum in just four months.

But as popular as the soundtrack is, there is a film supporting it that needs to be discussed. Encanto is a movie about a multigenerational family. There are twelve people living under one roof. It’s plot requires a functional understanding of the Madrigal family tree, their history, and the interpersonal relations among them. The movie has an important duty. It needs to make all of its lore known, understood, and remembered before the movie can begin.

In the past, Disney films have had difficulty supporting large casts. It’s difficult to introduce a large number of people, while expecting the audience to remember their names and personalities. It’s also a challenge for the movie to find enough screentime and plot to justify all these characters. Would Mirabel’s large family serve a purpose onscreen? Or would it be like 101 Dalmatians, only important in terms of sheer quantity?

The movie uses two different methods to spit out its exposition. The first, in a prologue, a young Mirabel is told her family history by her grandmother. As a family elder is teaching her family history to an eager young child, we the audience are eavesdropping on the conversation. We learn the origins of the Madrigal family’s gifts, the nature of the magic, and the magic candle at the center of it all. informative and it feels natural. It’s an organic way to present details slowly and purposefully without relying on omniscient narration.

The second method is stranger, but just as effective. In the movie’s opening number, the now adult Mirabel introduces us to her family. In a fast-tempo patter song, not only do we learn the family’s names and relationships, we learn each of their associated magic gifts. “The Family Madrigal” is a silly and unconventional way to learn the character roster, but it’s effective.

Mirabel isn’t breaking the fourth wall by singing directly to us. Throughout the film, a small assortment of kids observe and comment on situations occurring. Much like a Shakespearean chorus, they frame and contextualize important plot points. Ideas that couldn’t otherwise be expressed visually or verbally are directed towards them, even if they’re off camera. They also ask rhetorical questions, keeping the plot threads moving in intended directions. It keeps the story of the Madrigal family from becoming cloistered. It reminds us of the stakes throughout. The movie doesn't concern just a privileged family, but an entire village. Their personal problems have municipal consequences.

For brevity’s sake, we won’t explore every member of the Madrigal family. Suffice to say, each member of the supporting cast has a role and function in the story. Nothing feels extraneous or redundant. Everyone has a unique design and characterization, differentiating them. Everyone contributes in someway, be it to move the plot along, to lighten the mood, or to visually depict changing circumstances. Everyone adds to the film, building on circumstances rather than distracting or overshadowing. Nobody is ever just their one gimmick.

Mirabel’s sisters get two major explorations of the film’s theme. As is tradition in musicals, both Luisa and Isabela reveal their inner secrets and frustrations through song. Long kept hidden from everyone, including themselves, simple words will not suffice.

Luisa’s gift is abnormal superhuman strength. Her song, "Surface Pressure,” is a revelation that her strength has made her incredibly insecure. Due to her gift, she can literally move, lift, or carry anything. Every chore, every duty, every task, she feels obligated to take on the burden. She obediently does so, feeling guilty about ever resting or declining a request. Doing anything less would be a waste of her gift.

Luisa knows full well nobody else can do what she does (or at least not as effortlessly). She also knows these duties must be done for the good of the Encanto. If she doesn't get the work done, she's unfairly placing a burden on others. She's an involuntary workaholic who's placed the world on her own shoulders.

Isabela’s gift is the ability to grow plants and flowers instantly. The beautiful botanical displays implore her to be an epitomized version of femininity. Her song, "What Else Can I Do?,” is a confession that despite her outward perfection, she’s deeply unhappy.

The image Isabela puts forth is one immaculately curated. Her horticultural gift has always been at the forefront of her entire image. She can create a wave of pink flowers instantaneously. So she dresses and behaves like a girl whose persona requires so many pink flowers.

So much so, Isabela has had to suppress any interest or affection that would betray such an image. She has spent so long trying to be a perfect beauty, it’s become effortless and boring. She’s never had the opportunity to pursue any latent interest. Such as a newly discovered thirst for creative expression.

Both of these are in contrast to Mirabel’s character arc. With no magic gift to call her own, Mirabel has always felt like an outsider in her family. She’s felt unimportant and insignificant. She has no immediately obvious and presentable talent in a family of superstars. She’s generic. With no gift, she has no purpose, and therefore no direction. Mirabel can do anything, but can’t do anything with that freedom. Her sisters have great talents, but are stuck doing one thing forever. Neither party is happy, but for opposite reasons.

But despite these suppressed miseries, all three remain loyal and faithful to their family and their Encanto. As unhappy as they are, leaving would be even worse. And they know this as a fact.

Throughout the film, we see the complete Madrigal family tree, but one member is conspicuously absent. Whenever his name is brought up, the topic is swiftly dismissed. We only get a ominous, uniform warning: ‘We don’t talk about Bruno.’

Early on, we have no frame of reference of Bruno’s fate or what he did to earn such a reputation. What heinous act did he perform to be disgrace by his home? What legendary crime has expelled him from his family? What grievous misdeed has made him such a pariah? With all the secrecy and displeasure, one is fully ready to accept Bruno as the film’s villain.

As Mirabel investigates her family’s secrets, all signs point to her long disappeared uncle. She can’t accept his status as an unperson any longer. She needs to know the truth. Again, the truth comes out in song form.

In a film full of hit songs, “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” is the biggest hit of Encanto. For months after the film’s release, the song dominated popular culture. It spent weeks atop the singles chart, and was a viral sensation. It’s difficult to compare mathematically due to the changing states of music consumption, but all indicators imply the same thing: “Circle of Life” was popular. “Let It Go” was big. “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” was a sensation.

The song details the ire, the fear, and the resentment everyone has towards Bruno Madrigal. We hear of Bruno’s many transgressions. We learn both why everyone dislikes him and why they’re glad he’s gone.

But as Mirabel learns, Bruno did nothing wrong. His so-called faults are severely hyperbolized. Everybody’s stories are sour grape justifications for their feelings. Bruno is gone. Rather than miss him or mourn him, everyone convinces themselves they're happy Bruno is gone.

It’s clear something is awry. Even if the rumors and reputation weren’t disingenuous, they don't answer Mirabel's questions. She needs to know why Bruno is gone and why he disappeared when he did. Everyone is making excuses, justifying their feelings towards Bruno’s absence. Whatever Bruno did, Mirabel will never know by asking. Everyone is lying to themselves. They'll of course lie to her.

Bruno’s gift is precognition. He’s an interpretation of the Cassandra myth. In Greek mythology, Cassandra was blessed with the gift of foresight. However, no matter what she saw, she could never convince anyone of the oncoming truth. She was doomed to witness tragic events she could not prevent.

The difference being, when Cassandra spoke the truth, no one would believe her. When Bruno spoke the truth, everyone blamed him. The various prophecies espoused by Bruno are impartial accounts of the future. Whatever happens, happens. Bruno is just the messenger. But he gets the blame all the same.

So what drove Bruno to exile? On the night Mirabel learned she had no magic gift, Bruno tried to discover what had happened. Such an anomaly surely meant something important. His ensuing vision was unlike any he’d seen before: a quantum flux of two possible futures. He saw Mirabel standing in front of the Madrigal home. In one state, the house was healthy, sturdy and strong. In the other, the house was in ruination.

Bruno couldn't blame his niece for the impending fate of his family. Nor could he present such bad news to his family. Rather than disappoint them, scare them, or lie to them, Bruno fled. His family thinks he abandoned them in a time of need. Instead, he's kept a dark secret to himself for years, scared to face the consequences. A self-imposed life of isolation is preferable to traumatizing his loved ones.

Knowing that she's possibly destined to doom the family, the burden is now on Mirabel. How can she avert a tragic fate? How can she prevent the fall of her Encanto? And what's causing the magic to fail in the first place?

The matriarch of the family is Mirabel’s grandmother, Alma. Like Mirabel, Alma has no magical gift herself. Instead, Alma is the one who is responsible for her family’s gifts. Many years ago, it was her who found the candle’s magic. In the 50+ years since, she presides over Encanto, making sure her family’s gifts are being used to the benefit of all. She has no gift herself, but considers herself responsible for the entire community.

In her desire to maintain a pleasant life for all, Alma has mandated perfection from her family. Not harshly, and not maliciously, but mandated all the same. Her words and actions have put forward an attitude of domineering control. As such, the Madrigals have internalized a need for perfection and obedience. Anything else would be sacrilege. But how can one function when the platitude “Respect your elders” determines everything in your life?

Encanto has a unique feeling to it, separating it from other Disney films. Mirabel doesn’t go on a grand adventure to learn something about herself. There’s no villain causing pain and suffering who needs to be toppled. There’s no MacGuffin that will fix every problem once acquired. There’s no quirky animal sidekick. There’s no battle between good and evil or right and wrong. It’s just a family and their long-seated problems which are coming to a head. This family just happens to have magic powers and live in a magic house.

In truth, Encanto feels more like a Pixar film than a Disney film. Pixar’s stories are more introspective and personal. They tend to center on relatable and enthusiastic characters whose comfortable lives are upended. They go on a journey to fix their status. They learn something essential about their lives and their self-worth. They find solace in others, helping solve their problems, too. Problems get solved, not in a way expected, but in a way needed. Disney heroes strive for something good. Pixar heroes find something better in themselves.

Mirabel has been an outsider in her own family. She hasn't realized how unhappy she’s been all these years, subjected to such a life. She hasn’t noticed how stressed and tense and stifled her family has been. She hasn’t realized how domineering and controlling her grandmother has been. It’s always seemed normal to her. She’s only known this as her life. She's never questioned it. But now, faced with her family's destruction, she begins seeing literal cracks in the façade.

Things need to change, but how? Everyone else is comfortable with their lives, convincing themselves they’re comfortable, or afraid of upsetting others. Mirabel's actions seem either inflammatory, disrespectful, or petty. How can she convince her family to talk about their feelings when they have a complex song and dance number about not talking about subjects that upset them?

The crux of the movie is generational trauma. Trauma experienced by a family elder has the ability to affect their children and grandchildren. Sometimes it's physical and abusive. Sometimes it's psychological and manipulative. In the case of the Madrigals, it’s a chronic need for perfection.

The movie never explicitly states when Encanto takes place. There’s a deliberate timeless quality to the picture. It could easily take place in the present, or at any point in the past hundred years. The only piece of technology seen throughout the film is a color film camera.

But there are strong indicators, assuming one is versed in South American history. In a flashback, we see Alma and her departed husband as a young married couple. Their happy life is upended when forced to flee their home. Soldiers move in on the city, violently ransacking the town. These enemy soldiers are only seen illuminated from behind. Those in the know would recognize them as soldiers from Colombia’s Thousand Days War.

Even without the historical context, it’s an easily sympathetic backstory. In a short span, she survived a war, became a refugee with newborn triplets, and saw her husband murdered by nationalists. It was a major traumatic experience. So much so, the mystic forces of the world bestowed Alma with a magic candle. It created a secluded valley where she and other refugees could live in peace, isolated from war and bloodshed.

The candle also awarded her family line with magic gifts to serve this new village. Alma was indeed blessed with great fortune, but has never forgotten it came at a dire price. She never wants anyone to live through a fraction of what she’s experienced. Anarchy cannot destroy any more lives. But there’s no point in saving everyone from misery if the process itself is causing misery. Her obsession with perfection is eating away at her family.

Bruno’s vision wasn’t Mirabel either fixing or destroying the family. It was both. She needed to destroy its dysfunctions to save them. Mirabel never received a gift because it was her destiny to fix this. Had she received magic powers, she’d only be another extension of the trouble. This the type of problem that can only be seen by an outsider.

Coincidentally, Pixar has explored the idea of generational trauma twice. The first in the 2017′s Coco, and again in 2022′s Turning Red. Both films center their conflict around fantasy. Both integrate the fantastic and the dramatic. Both agonize over the troubles and problems that have rippled through generations. And both are resolved in a satisfying way.

Released between these two pictures, Encanto seems like a natural companion piece. But while both Turning Red and Coco intertwine their protagonists’ personal journeys with their exploration of family troubles, Encanto falls short. Pixar’s offerings focus on the invisible conflict between children and elders throughout. Generational conflicts are explored from the start to the conclusion. Much of Encanto is spent recognizing whether there’s even a problem to begin with.

By the time Mirabel recognizes her family's issues stem from her grandmother's actions, the film is rapidly approaching the finale. The idea is dropped into our laps almost unceremoniously. The movie declares its theme like a mystery detective announcing the culprit.

In fairness, the plot thread isn’t pulled from thin air. The subtext was always there, just shoved into the periphery. The movie wanted us to focus on other things instead. Things like Bruno’s absence and Mirabel’s prophecy. The movie was dangling red herrings, trying to keep its fantasy elements in the forefront. It's as though the writers were ashamed of the conclusion. As though family drama and grief processing were too mundane for their fantasy world.

When Mirabel and her grandmother discuss their issues, the resolution arrives questionably fast. It’s emotional themes are localized to one scene, and that scene is handled in a very mature, low key, expedited way. It’s a sensible discussion between a grandmother and her granddaughter. It’s not a bad representation of an introductory therapy session, but it feels insubstantial for a movie. Its more of a forced resolution than an actual satisfying conclusion.

In both Turning Red and Coco, the cycle of generational trauma is broken with storytelling twists. Actions, revelations and discoveries overwhelmingly change their respective families. Everyone learns something they couldn’t have possibly understood before the adventure at the core of their movie. The trauma is broken because their entire worldview is now different.

But in Encanto’s case, the trauma is broken because the writers want it to be broken. Mirabel reaffirms her love for her family. Alma promises to be patient and understanding. And this solves their problems. It’s an easy, unearned path to resolution hiding behind sentimentality.

It’s also a major stylistic mismatch from the fantasy concepts we’ve seen so far. There’s no discovery of a long-held secret. There’s no radical upheaval in the family dynamic. There’s no sacrifice or loss or change in the family’s magic. Mirabel and Alma have a conversation, apologize, and that’s it.

It’s ironic that such a treatment befalls a film about the struggles of who you want to be conflicting with who you’re expected to be. Disney had an idea of what ending they wanted, and forced it to end in such a way.

It’s even more ironic that this wasn’t the only time such an occurrence befell the film. It happened during the character design phase. Luisa is an ox of a character. She’s able to lift entire buildings without effort. Being such a strong person, Luisa is naturally drawn bulky with muscular limbs and torso.

One would think this would be a fairly straightforward portrayal of a strong character. But the animators had to emphatically fight the producers to keep this character design. From the producers’ perspective, the overly-muscular woman would be off-putting and intimidating. She’d look unappealing on merchandise, and kids would stray away from any product featuring her.

The opposite wound up happening. Girls in the coveted youth demographic absolutely loved Luisa and her design. She was the breakout star of the film. What little merchandise existed featuring Luisa sold out quick.

Meanwhile, Disney gambled on the stereotypically girly Isabela, whose products only sold average. Funny enough, Isabela’s character arc concerned her frustration towards her conventional femininity. She considered her curated, manicured ways confining and unsatisfying. But it was that artifice that was slapped on bedsheets and bookbags. It’s like the merchandising gurus were hoping kids didn’t pay attention to the film.

It’s not until Isabela abandoned this life that she found happiness. Such a departure is visually represented by fluorescent highlights in her hair and a splotched dress. Like Luisa, this design was also sought after, but not as readily available as other merchandise. Both wound up being available in greater quantities, but not until after the Christmas buying bonanza.

Even the casting process squared expectations against reality. Mirabel is voiced by actress Stephanie Beatriz. Except for a supporting role in the film adaptation of In the Heights, Beatriz didn’t have a history in music or musicals.

Beatriz is most famous for her role as Rosa Diaz, a hardened, intimidating police detective on the sitcom Brooklyn Nine-Nine. This is likely why the filmmakers first approached her for the role of Luisa. They assumed Beatriz was identical to her character in real life. In reality, Beatriz is a substantially upbeat, energetic, feminine person. Detective Diaz is almost an opposite of her actual personality. Aside from the family strife, she was uncannily similar to Mirabel. Beatriz was soon offered the film's lead role instead.

In all, Encanto had a problem defining its very definition. It was made in defiance of corporate expectations. Disney assumed they knew what audiences wanted, and what shortcuts would be acceptable. Those assumptions were not only wrong, but often backwards.

During production, Disney CEO Bob Iger stepped down from his position, replaced by Bob Chapek. This change in leadership combined with a misunderstanding of audience expectations is troubling. These are the necessary circumstances to bring about another dark age in Disney Animation. But since this blog’s exploration into Disney’s past has caught up with Disney’s present, we can’t tell for certain. We’ll have to wait and see.

In conclusion, Encanto is a very energetic and colorful film. It has a vibrant soundtrack, memorable characters, and a good sense of humor. But its trenchant themes are left unintegrated, leaving its message contrived and superficial. While the narrative itself is anemic, the film's strengths carry it ably. It’s a well-built house, but it’s on a lousy foundation that needs repairs.

Beauty and the Beast Fantasia The Lion King Frozen Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Cinderella Alice in Wonderland Sleeping Beauty Mulan Zootopia Tangled The Little Mermaid Aladdin Lilo & Stitch The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh Pinocchio The Jungle Book Robin Hood The Sword in the Stone Bambi The Emperor’s New Groove Encanto The Hunchback of Notre Dame Moana The Princess and the Frog The Great Mouse Detective Big Hero 6 101 Dalmatians Bolt The Three Caballeros Lady and the Tramp Frozen II The Rescuers Down Under Atlantis: The Lost Empire Wreck-It Ralph The Fox and the Hound Fantasia 2000 Peter Pan Dumbo Hercules Meet the Robinsons Brother Bear The Black Cauldron Raya and the Last Dragon Melody Time Oliver & Company Treasure Planet Tarzan The Rescuers Pocahontas Saludos Amigos The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad Winnie the Pooh The Aristocats Ralph Breaks the Internet Dinosaur Fun and Fancy Free Make Mine Music Home on the Range Chicken Little

#Encanto #Disney #walt disney #Walt Disney Animation Studios #disney studios #Disney Canon #movie review #Film Criticism #film analysis

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