FIVE STAR FILM: Moana (2016)

Moana (USA, 2016)
Directed by Ron Clements & John Musker

Starring Auli'i Carvalho, Dwayne Johnson, Rachel House, Temuera Morrison 

Trying to spot a future classic is hard, whether the item in question is a car, an item of clothing or a film. Very often the term ‘classic’ is bandied around to describe something which is merely popular, and while the two terms are not entirely mutually exclusive, the over-use of the term is annoying and makes the job of finding genuine classics all the more difficult. Many Disney films which are heralded as ‘classics’ completely misuse the term – it is either used in a condescending way to describe something that is merely old, or it is used to justify a film’s reputation on the basis of Disney’s wider record. 

Moana, on the other hand, is a future classic – in fact, it may be the best thing that Disney has done in the best part of three decades (disregarding its relationship with PIXAR). Within the context of the company’s back catalogue, it is on a par with Beauty and the Beast and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and is certainly the best thing the company has produced in-house since the renaissance ended. But even when stripped of its context, it has all the ingredients of a terrific film in its own right, wrapped up in truly gorgeous visuals and an excellent soundtrack. It is an unmitigated joy to watch and will stand the test of time in years to come.

 

The central pillar of Moana’s success is its self-confidence – or more specifically, how it espouses a confident new approach within Disney’s animation team. Much credit is given to Tangled and Frozen for allowing Disney to re-assert itself away from PIXAR, returning to the company’s wheelhouse of European folk and fairy tales with a post-Shrek self-awareness and penchant for revisionist storytelling. But while these films should take a certain amount of credit for this, they were still leaning on other people’s successes – or, in the case of The Princess and the Frog, leaning so consciously on the company’s past style that new elements could only get so much breathing space. 

Moana stands, Janus-like, with one eye on the past and one eye on what will hopefully be a bright future for the company, embracing elements of the true classics whilst also looking forward. On the one hand, it readily acknowledges its debts to the films which came before it; it owes a certain amount of its structure to both the company’s early efforts (up to Sleeping Beauty) and the renaissance musicals – a view reinforced by the presence of Ron Clements and John Musker behind the camera. The film embraces Disney’s highs without smugly shoving them into our face or relying on references to other films; there is some self-aware dialogue about Moana not being a princess, but it’s far removed from the constant pop culture jokes and fourth-wall breaking of Aladdin.

 

On the other hand, Moana is a next step on from Disney’s traditional strengths without being smug or didactic about its progression. Much was made about Disney wanting to make a film about Polynesia, let alone the amount of research into the cultures, stories and religions that characterise the area (a hangover from John Lasseter, one suspects). The film gives us a strong, well-written, likeable and nuanced female lead with agency and vulnerability, without falling into what could be called ‘virtue signalling’ about her role in the story or the culture from which she comes. The film doesn’t rely on its difference from traditional fairy tales to sell itself to critics and audiences; it’s a brilliantly-told story in its own right, that just happens to be out of the company’s comfort zone – and that bodes well, given how tricky stepping out of said comfort zone has been in the past. 

 

What we have with Moana is a film which uses many of the tried-and-tested elements of Disney films as both a firm foundation and a springboard into something new. The film is structured like many ‘hero’s journey’ stories, complete with its own training montages, and its soundtrack is every bit as bright, catchy and appealing as we have come to expect. But it doesn’t just settle for making Moana yet another Disney princess, totally ruling out any romance as either character motivation or a plot device, and always keeping Moana’s decision-making at the forefront. She’s never made out to be perfect, but she grows as a character as the film progresses and never feels like she is simply reacting to stuff happening which is beyond her control. 

 

One of the key themes of Moana is the way in which appearances and social structure can cause our real purpose and identity to be lost. John Stuart Mill wrote in On Liberty that “persons of genius are… more individual than any other people - less capable, consequently, of fitting themselves, without hurtful compression, into any of the small number of moulds which society provides in order to save its members the trouble of forming their character.” Moana as a character is confronted by this head on, with her true calling being suppressed to fit the role marked out by her father. The film treats her struggle intelligently and does justice to the various moral dilemmas it sets up (e.g. is it better to serve your people by staying on the island or by undertaking a risky journey which could save everyone?). It’s a thoroughly believable depiction of someone finding themselves, especially when it comes to the way that circumstances can lead to crippling self-doubt.

 

This credible approach to self-discovery is reinforced by a further creative decision – namely the lack of a love interest for the female lead. Making Moana and Maui an item would have pandered too closely to convention and cheapened the story; having worked so hard to build up the heroine’s resourcefulness and determination, it doesn’t make sense for her to swoon into a prince’s arms so he can do all the heavy lifting. The competitive spirit between these characters adds an element of unpredictability which lifts the film through its more familiar waters – we always hope in our heart that Maui will come back for the final showdown, but we don’t sit around waiting for it to happen.

 

The film also deserves praise for the relative subtlety of its environmental message. I argued in my Avatar review that American filmmakers rarely do justice to stories about Man destroying the natural world, with films like Ferngully and Once Upon A Forest all too often falling back on one-dimensional characters, dull plots and preachy storytelling. Moana, by contrast, begins with a religious story akin to Prometheus’ theft of fire from the gods and translates it into a very contemporary concern. Not only is the story interesting in its own right, but it gets across the importance of mythology as a means to understand one’s culture, one’s identity within it and the significance of the challenges facing it. 

Moana also benefits from a fantastic array of set-pieces, which are integrated beautifully into the story. The showdown with the Kakamora pirates, the encounter with Tamatoa and the final confrontation with Te Ka are all deftly orchestrated in their own right; the former is like a Mad Max film in miniature, which escalates as capably and logically as the ending of The Road Warrior or the truck chase in Raiders of the Lost Ark. But they still feel like integral parts of the plot rather than boisterous interruptions, a feeling aided by all the little running gags (such as Heihei trying to eat the Heart of Te Fiti).

 

This brings us on to one of Moana’s biggest strengths: its soundtrack. Like its other assets, it’s easy to take this for granted as just something that all Disney films of a certain type or budget possess. But once again we get the best of both worlds – all the catchiness we expect from Disney, but none of the retreading of old princess-related ground. Mark Mancina’s contributions are miles better than his work on Tarzan and Brother Bear, and the songs by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Opetaia Foa’i are universally excellent. There’s great variety on offer: ‘You’re Welcome’ is bouncy, bright and full of energy, ‘Shiny’ is a clever yet touching tribute to David Bowie’s glam rock period, ‘How Far I’ll Go’ is a great showcase for Auli’i Carvalho’s singing talent and ‘We Know The Way’ is just damn splendid. 

 

The film also boasts some of the most gorgeous visuals we’ve seen from Disney in quite some time. While Frozen’s visuals ultimately felt a little too… glacial and overly polished in places, Moana is content to bathe the screen in bright colours and beautiful contrasts from the outset. Water is always difficult to animate convincingly, but Clements and Musker succeed not only in making its movements believable, but turning the ocean into a character (even if its movements do borrow somewhat from The Abyss). The character lighting is excellent and the choice of shots is exemplary, especially in the more comic moments (such as Heihei’s screaming on the boat). 

Moana is an animation masterpiece which sets the bar extremely high for Disney’s remaining efforts in this decade. On top of all its technical mastery and narrative integrity, the film boasts a host of fine performances, sharp comedy and an all-round sense of joy which is more than enough to enthral even on repeat viewings. It is a fantastic achievement for the company, a fitting swan song for Musker, and a gem which will more than stand the test of time.

NEXT REVIEW: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (2009)