Unnecessary. Redundant. Superfluous. Three English-language words that describe the same or similar experience in life or fiction.
Any one of those words, alone or collectively, can also describe Moana, the less-than-anticipated live-action remake of the 10-year-old animated hit that enthralled audiences in theaters and has done likewise at home since its release. The original animated film proved so popular that it almost spawned an animated series. Instead, Disney scrapped those plans and pushed forward with developing the aptly named sequel, Moana 2, just two years ago.
With an overwhelmingly inescapable feeling of “too much, too soon” permeating every aspect of its preproduction, production, and now release, the live-action remake once again stars Dwayne Johnson as Maui, an egocentric, worship-seeking trickster demi-god on a meandering mission of redemption. Less animated this time out, Johnson’s Maui delivers the familiar dialogue beats with slightly less fervor and intensity, presumably at the direction of director Thomas Vail.
Or maybe, simply enough, Johnson realized the commerce-first, art-last decision to transfer a decade-old animated classic into live action was, if not doomed from the outset, unlikely to survive comparisons with the earlier, far more vibrant — in every sense of the word — iteration of an adventure-fantasy intermixed with the occasional earworm-worthy song (thanks, Lin-Manuel Miranda and company). The noticeable affixation of a curly, long-haired wig to Johnson’s famously bald head doesn’t help, especially when it seems to slip and move on its own.
Johnson’s involvement aside, however, Moana still suffers from an indigestible case of deja vu. Retelling the same story, hitting the same plot and emotional beats, with, at most, minimal variation will leave audiences wondering, “Why did they bother?” The answer, of course, lies in box-office returns (or the hope thereof) and brand/copyright extension of the underlying property, something Disney’s accounting department and boardroom executives, as always concerned with stock market valuations, dividends, and quarterly reports, will surely applaud.
It’s a pity, though, considering the obvious talent in front of the camera, beginning with newcomer Catherine Laga’aia as the title character. As a young adult, Laga’aia deftly embodies the deep-seated yearning for freedom, independence, and self-discovery, to see and experience the world beyond the limited confines of her home island, Motunui.
Born and raised by overprotective parents (theme alert), Chief Tui (John Tui) and Sina (Frankie Adams), and a not entirely unjustified fear of the unseen, outside world and the hidden, unknown dangers it might present, Chief Tui and Sina opt for isolationism. No one leaves the island, not for adventure and not even when a blight hits the island, and the fish disappear.
As in the animated film, Moana finds a kindred spirit in her grandmother, Tala (Rene Owens). Besides her biological relationship to Moana and her parents, Tala serves as the island’s chief storyteller, sharing mythic stories, including one involving Maui and the theft of the earth goddess’s emerald-green heart more than a thousand years earlier. As that same earth goddess, Te Fiti, slowly dies, the effects of Maui’s impudent, impulsive decision have finally reached Motunui.
Chief Tui prefers inaction driven by caution mixed with hope. In contrast, Moana, inspired by her grandmother and a literal call to adventure — the sea delivers Te Fiti's lost heart into Moana’s hands — sets out on a long-abandoned outrigger to first find Maui and later, after much convincing (i.e., playing to his outsized ego), to join her on the mission to restore Te Fiti’s heart and save the world.
Everything that follows, from Maui’s initial reluctance and stubbornness in seeing Moana as a worthy companion, to the journey to retrieve Maui’s long-lost, magically empowered fish-hook in the underground lair of Tamatoa (voiced by Jemaine Clement), a giant, treasure-obsessed crab, plays out exactly as audiences saw and heard 10 years ago, albeit with a mix of live-action and computer animation (often, alas, of variable quality). Eventually, they reach the dying Te Fiti, but have one more, last obstacle to overcome: Te Kā, a monstrous, flawlessly realized lava monster.
Life lessons are learned, initially by Moana (“believe in yourself,” “follow your dreams,” “take risks”), Maui (less egocentrism, fewer worshippers, but more friends), and Moana’s parents (“sometimes you have to let the people you love go, let them make mistakes, and support them without judgment”) before the live-action remake hits one final listless, lifeless song-and-dance sequence, a celebration of unity and community that, like everything else in the live-action remake, was done far better and with more geuine feeling a decade ago.
Moana opens theatrically on Friday, July 10, via Walt Disney Studios. Visit their official site for locations and showtimes.