I didn’t used to love kids films. As a kid longing to be older than I was, they felt too childish for my PG-rated palette. Now that I’m not a kid anymore, turns out injecting a little dose of childlike wonder every now and then is good for my soul. In this case, in spite of itself Disney’s latest animated film, Wish (Directed by Fawn Veerasunthorn and Chris Buck) was also good for my soul because of its narrative failings.
A Beautiful Tribute to the Past; Dissatisfying Art for the Present
In the light of Disney’s 100th anniversary, the film works hard to incorporate as much Disney history as it can get away with—and this is done well. The film is visually stunning, deploying a blend of modern animation with the classic watercolour feel that made Disney famous. There are also Disney Easter eggs aplenty, taking an adult viewer back to their own childhood of whichever decade. I found myself smiling at all the subtle tips of the cap that populated the first half of the film. As a tribute to the past, it is cute and nicely done.
But as a piece of art for the present, it left me feeling ultimately dissatisfied. The songs aren’t especially memorable, the jokes aren’t that funny, and there were only a couple of characters I cared about. It was the narrative that let the film down most.
From the start, the film presents a thinly veiled swipe at monotheistic faith. The song ‘I’m a Star’ insists that we are all made of star dust, that “we are our own origin story”. The narrative assumes, without justification, that our dreams are the most important part of us. There are a whole lot of moments to make your friendly neighbourhood atheist smile and nod. Chief among them was the portrayal of the King, Magnifico: an apparently benevolent, omnipotent higher power, who demands the trust and praise of all the people, but certainly doesn’t deserve it. Unsurprisingly, dethroning the oppressive monarch becomes the main goal of the protagonists.
A Clumsy Critique and an Own Goal
As a critique of monotheism, the film is clumsy. I didn’t recognise the God I trust in the caricature designed to critique him. As a promotion of humanist hope, it’s not just a swing and a miss, it’s an own goal.
At first, I thought this was because the film’s narrative was confused. My kids couldn’t really follow all the plotlines, and I’m not sure they could have caught the intended morals of the story if they were trying to. And you know what? I’m pretty sure that its narrative confusion was unavoidable. When you wish upon a star things get weirdly complicated and paradoxical.[1]
We’re supposed to look inside ourselves for our own destiny… and yet, somehow the answer to overthrowing the oppressor is not found in an individual, but in community. Ironically, the community is centred around our individuality—but it’s a communal unity all the same. We don’t need a King… and yet, a queen takes his place without question. There is no higher being worthy of our complete trust… and yet we seem to require some sort of transcendent power outside ourselves (in this case, the stars) to become all that we can be.
Essentially, the film tied itself in knots trying to build a kingdom without a king, which resulted in a series of confused and contradictory messages.[2] While the problems of the king were obvious, the solutions were not. Some might say that’s because the screenplay wasn’t very good. But it’s because the storytellers couldn’t shake the deeply human desire be part of a kingdom. The longings for a unity and a transcendence we can trust remains, long after Magnifico is overthrown.
A week after seeing Wish my three-and-five-year-olds couldn’t name a single character or hum a single tune from the film. It’s beautiful, but it’s hardly a classic. On another level, in spite of itself, Wish provides a beautiful opportunity for children and adults alike to see that when you turn to secular humanism for nourishing hope, the cupboard is bare. What’s more, it prompts us to see how much more satisfying our stories can be because we know that some day there will be a better king on the throne.
A version of this review was first published on Dave’s blog.
[1] At least in part, the decision to make wishing upon a star the central hope of the film was a forced attempt to pay tribute to Disney’s past: a solution in search of a problem.
[2] I first heard this expression from Mark Sayers on the This Cultural Moment podcast.
