Fun, fast, and family friendly, Encanto is thematically fresh but practically the same film Disney releases annually. Both lively and empty, there is little more than a surface level flick that bit off more than it could chew.
In 1937, Disney Animation Studios released their first feature film, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Since then, Disney has sat atop cinema’s animated throne as the studio created classic after classic. These animations would become generation-defining works: The Jungle Book, The Lion King, Lilo & Stitch – films that don’t need to be explained as ‘pieces of their time’ but vibrant Aesopian tales, timelessly waiting to be watched by a new wave of young minds. Encanto is the studio’s 60th feature; a magical, musical, and honest fairy tale that follows the formula, sacrificing some originality for a wholesome message.
Mirabel Madrigal (Stephanie Beatriz) isn’t special. Unlike the rest of her family, Mirabel is the only one to not have been gifted with an extraordinary ability, the kind of undeniable truth that forces her to double down on her self-imposed teenage pressures. Always in the way, Mirabel is an indifferent outcast; although she has somewhat come to terms with her diagnosed normality, there is an instantly recognisable self-doubt that is ever present but rarely seen – a situation most teenagers can relate to.
Out to prove herself, Mirabel discovers that the family’s magic is fading. Excited that she will finally be able to receive some form of recognition from her commanding Abuela (María Cecilia Botero), the Madrigal matriarch, Mirabel doesn’t know where to start. How does one even fix ‘magic’? Mirabel is driven but is riddled with uncertainty: she wants to be special which, next to her family, would also make her normal. Does she even want to be special, or is the change too scary?
Her quest is less magical and more coming-of-age. To bring back the magic, she first looks for her lost uncle Bruno (John Leguizamo), excommunicated and vilified for his prophecies which tended to foretell stormy futures rather than sunny ones. While she has a clear external goal, her journey is clearly an internal one. Mirabel is lost within her family and is still searching for her place years after everyone else has found theirs, a constant internal dialogue that resembles that of a young adult rather than the more stereotypical audience with a single-digit age.
Hidden in the routine plot is the subtle minutia of a failing family crumbling under the gaze of their elders. Mirabel isn’t the only one plagued with never-good-enoughitis; all the Madrigal’s are struggling to live up to their Abuela and to themselves, however their stories are told through densely packed and repetitive songs.
Written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, the music is a blend of buckets full of exposition and a handful of relevant emotions. The delicately powerful ballad is replaced by soulless music videos: a stream of set changes and character cameos are a quick substitute for touching breakthroughs, especially when the first stanza of the song abruptly interrupts a conversation just to ‘summarise’ a ten-second interaction in three minutes.
Creative and colourful, Encanto doesn’t feel at home anywhere. The emphasis on an older perspective is refreshing but quickly turns to frustration when it becomes hidden amongst a tedious story. Small details punctuate the boredom, but can be extremely easy to miss as another song jarringly gives more character backstory three-quarters of the way in.
It is unfair to dissect a family film and expect it to come out the other side intact, yet somehow Disney used to be able to survive the examination. Encanto tries to ride the line between innocent and intelligent, ending up as family film and nothing more. All sweet and no spice.