I confess to being predisposed toward Disney's latest animated feature thanks to my adoration for The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker. Like that classic video game adventure, Moana is all about the epic wonder of the rolling ocean, and the primal and mystical forces that flow between its precious islands. There are also hints of Hayao Miyazaki – especially Nausicaa and Princess Mononoke – in its strong heroine and its concerns with humanity's impact on the environment.
Moana (Auli'i Cravalho) is being groomed to become chief of her Polynesian paradise of Motunui. Yet Moana is drawn to the sea and what lies beyond the horizon. In an elegant prologue, we see an infant Moana protecting a turtle as it waddles toward the ocean. Suddenly the water itself comes alive like Aladdin's carpet (this film is also directed by Ron Clements and John Musker). So we know straight away that Moana has a special understanding with the ocean, as well as an innate empathy with nature.
Less so, Maui (Dwayne Johnson). He's a demigod who stole the heart of Te Fiti, the goddess who created all life. Now a corruption is creeping through the islands. Moana's dad believes that she has a duty to stay and protect her people. But Moana's grandmother feels for her wanderlust, and encourages her to follow her instinct – an instinct which tells her to set sail and find Maui, bring him to Te Fiti, and return the goddess's heart. Obviously this is the choice Moana makes, and her adventure takes her far beyond the safe coral of her homeland.
Moana begins as a leader (not a princess, she insists), with her parents pulling her away from her calling. It's the classic duty versus individuality conflict, mostly rendered without black and white moralising. "Find happiness where you are" is the repeated mantra of the islanders – but the story's ultimate message is that such domestic happiness can only be maintained by respectfully communicating with foreign lands. (If only, humanity, if only.)
Technically speaking, Moana gives us a new level of detail in CG animation. Not just in the texture rendering but in the nuance of the animation itself. The living sea – snaking like the probe in James Cameron's The Abyss – is full of wordless charisma. The general art style is nicely aligned with classic Disney 2D, except the extra dimension feels necessary to embellish the breadth of the setting.
The pacing is near-perfect. By now, Disney Animation Studios probably have an algorithm for the ideal narrative structure. But heck – if they do, it's working. From the myth-building first act and the character interplay of the second; from the moment of self-doubt to the final (very touching) showdown: it's pleasingly predictable and entirely satisfying.
That structural predictability allows for some fantastically bizarre setpieces along the way. Personal favourites are the attack of the Kakamora, where the movie suddenly turns into Fury Road for kids; and the Realm of Monsters, which movingly updates the weird 80s fantasy environments of films like The Legend of Sirius, and then throws in a giant glam-shelled Jermaine Clement to do a David Bowie impression.
The interplay between Moana and Maui, which constitutes the drama and humour of the middle section, is smartly written and full of sparks. Being a demigod, Maui is a raging narcissist, so Moana quickly realises that persuading him to do the right thing requires an appeal to his ego – an ego which bellows godliness while whispering a fundamental vulnerability.
Moana herself has the goofy appeal of the modern Disney heroine. Going deeper, her internal conflict isn't original but nor does it feel forced. Johnson and newcomer Cravalho deliver excellent voice work, some of which requires belting out lung-busting songs. Moana's theme may not be Disney's catchiest number but it sure is stirring.
Joining the adventurers is a doolally rooster named Heihei. He's the slapstick cartoon element, narratively pointless but occasionally amusing. Perhaps he was inserted for younger children, because the rest of the humour is more subtle. I particularly enjoyed Maui's bromance with his living tattoo, acting as a kind of pectoral-based conscience beside his heart.
Moana is up there with the best of this Golden Age of American Animation, which shows no sign of dwindling. It is extraordinarily well made and efficient, big-hearted, and achingly beautiful. Familiar elements abound, but they're remixed into an original setting with a rich mythology. Combined with thoughtful characterisation and a highly laudable (and, depressingly, an endlessly relevant) message, Moana will be seen and savoured for years to come.
Moana (Auli'i Cravalho) is being groomed to become chief of her Polynesian paradise of Motunui. Yet Moana is drawn to the sea and what lies beyond the horizon. In an elegant prologue, we see an infant Moana protecting a turtle as it waddles toward the ocean. Suddenly the water itself comes alive like Aladdin's carpet (this film is also directed by Ron Clements and John Musker). So we know straight away that Moana has a special understanding with the ocean, as well as an innate empathy with nature.
Less so, Maui (Dwayne Johnson). He's a demigod who stole the heart of Te Fiti, the goddess who created all life. Now a corruption is creeping through the islands. Moana's dad believes that she has a duty to stay and protect her people. But Moana's grandmother feels for her wanderlust, and encourages her to follow her instinct – an instinct which tells her to set sail and find Maui, bring him to Te Fiti, and return the goddess's heart. Obviously this is the choice Moana makes, and her adventure takes her far beyond the safe coral of her homeland.
Moana begins as a leader (not a princess, she insists), with her parents pulling her away from her calling. It's the classic duty versus individuality conflict, mostly rendered without black and white moralising. "Find happiness where you are" is the repeated mantra of the islanders – but the story's ultimate message is that such domestic happiness can only be maintained by respectfully communicating with foreign lands. (If only, humanity, if only.)
Technically speaking, Moana gives us a new level of detail in CG animation. Not just in the texture rendering but in the nuance of the animation itself. The living sea – snaking like the probe in James Cameron's The Abyss – is full of wordless charisma. The general art style is nicely aligned with classic Disney 2D, except the extra dimension feels necessary to embellish the breadth of the setting.
The pacing is near-perfect. By now, Disney Animation Studios probably have an algorithm for the ideal narrative structure. But heck – if they do, it's working. From the myth-building first act and the character interplay of the second; from the moment of self-doubt to the final (very touching) showdown: it's pleasingly predictable and entirely satisfying.
That structural predictability allows for some fantastically bizarre setpieces along the way. Personal favourites are the attack of the Kakamora, where the movie suddenly turns into Fury Road for kids; and the Realm of Monsters, which movingly updates the weird 80s fantasy environments of films like The Legend of Sirius, and then throws in a giant glam-shelled Jermaine Clement to do a David Bowie impression.
The interplay between Moana and Maui, which constitutes the drama and humour of the middle section, is smartly written and full of sparks. Being a demigod, Maui is a raging narcissist, so Moana quickly realises that persuading him to do the right thing requires an appeal to his ego – an ego which bellows godliness while whispering a fundamental vulnerability.
Moana herself has the goofy appeal of the modern Disney heroine. Going deeper, her internal conflict isn't original but nor does it feel forced. Johnson and newcomer Cravalho deliver excellent voice work, some of which requires belting out lung-busting songs. Moana's theme may not be Disney's catchiest number but it sure is stirring.
Joining the adventurers is a doolally rooster named Heihei. He's the slapstick cartoon element, narratively pointless but occasionally amusing. Perhaps he was inserted for younger children, because the rest of the humour is more subtle. I particularly enjoyed Maui's bromance with his living tattoo, acting as a kind of pectoral-based conscience beside his heart.
Moana is up there with the best of this Golden Age of American Animation, which shows no sign of dwindling. It is extraordinarily well made and efficient, big-hearted, and achingly beautiful. Familiar elements abound, but they're remixed into an original setting with a rich mythology. Combined with thoughtful characterisation and a highly laudable (and, depressingly, an endlessly relevant) message, Moana will be seen and savoured for years to come.