Missing Broadway? Try Encanto
“Welcome to the Family Madrigal! The home of the Family Madrigal!” The moment that I saw the trailers, I was sure that Encanto would be a highly formulaic Disney-Pixar mashup, complete with Broadway-esque music, quirky characters, and oversaturated gags. I wish I could say that I was surprised. Despite its colorful splatter of song and adventure, Encanto is severely lacking in compassion and heart, especially compared to its predecessors like Coco and Luca.
After losing her husband to an armed conflict, the Madrigal family was blessed with a range of supernatural abilities from super strength to the ability to control the weather. All except for the film’s protagonist, the klutzy teenaged Mirabel Madrigal. On the evening of her younger cousin’s “gifting ceremony,” Mirabel noticed that their enchanted casita was cracking and her family’s gifts were beginning to weaken. In an attempt to find a sense of belonging in the Madrigal family, Mirabel goes on a quest to discover the root of the crisis and save her family’s magical gifts.
At every turn, Encanto releases a spat of bouncy, boldly colored, MTV-reminiscent musical numbers. Lin Manuel-Miranda doesn’t disappoint with his latest Colombian-inspired works, but Miranda doesn’t do anything interesting, either. Aside from “The Family Madrigal” and “We Don’t Talk about Bruno,” Encanto’s songs are forgettable and familiar. Most of them act as cushioning to extend the relatively basic plot structure to fit the film’s 99-minute runtime. Many of them could be replaced with thirty-seconds worth of character dialogue. Encanto’s style is better suited for a Broadway musical than an animated feature film.
Encanto tries so hard to strictly adhere to its source material that it loses the soulfulness that made them renowned classics. The premise is unmistakably similar to the 20th century classic novel One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez, minus its adult themes. Both stories incorporate bouts of magic realism as they follow an eccentric family seeking refuge in a secluded Colombian village, and eventually, assuming the position of leadership and elitism among their fellow villagers. The stories even emphasize yellow butterflies in the narrative, though for different reasons. (Search up “Mauricio Babilonia”) Both stories also portray similar themes, emphasizing the necessity of change and the insidious mark of intergenerational trauma. As the closest semblance to a lesson for its younger viewers, Encanto pushes off this plot point until half-way through the movie. Rushed, brute, and underdeveloped, I doubt I’d even catch the message without coincidentally finishing One Hundred Years of Solitude last month.
Encanto also follows the conventional methodology of our generation’s “classics.” From Monsters Inc. to Ratatouille and newer feature films like Luca, Moana, and Coco, Encanto strictly adheres to the Disney-Pixar formula and still fundamentally misses the defining aspect of almost all Disney-Pixar films. Like its predecessors, Maribel follows the worn trope of the quirky loner who “can’t fit in.” Of course, by the end of the movie, Maribel learns that “it’s okay not to fit in” because it is the world that must change. Mundane and boring, it’d be better if Encanto focused on the “tradition vs. change” struggle. After all, the successes of other Disney-Pixar collaborations were not based on this overdone trait, but rather, the cohesivity of its emotional beats, and as a direct application, its ability to sell its final message. Ratatouille is a “classic” because it is a cautionary tale of young talent and the ugly reckonings of fame, not an attempt to justify that “rats can cook too.” Coco, another movie that prides itself on its diverse narrative, highlights the importance of family over fame, rather than pitying Miguel for his odd appreciation for music. Luca is well-done because it develops the message of maturity and confidence in oneself throughout the course of the movie, rather than emphasizing the fact that Luca is a “quirky introvert.” Beyond the “quirky, ill-fitting protagonist” trope lies a meticulous narrative design. The trope is only meant to spur the plot into action. Encanto, on the other hand, allows itself to be defined by this trope.
Encanto certainly is a “good movie,” but it’s not a movie I would watch again. Painfully average and algorithmic, the only memorable bit left in my mind is the first line of the trailer:“Welcome to the Family Madrigal! The home of the Family Madrigal!”
