All the Technological Wizardry in the World Can’t Save Mufasa: The Lion King

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As a film critic with over three decades of experience under my belt, I must say that “Mufasa” left me feeling more like a lion robbed of its natural pride than one who has just watched an exceptional movie. Coming from someone who has seen the original “Lion King” countless times and admired director Barry Jenkins’ previous work, this film felt like a disappointing miss.

I’ll tell you this about Mufasa: These lions are as adorable as buttons, particularly the cubs. Their soft fur, small faces, and those big, begging eyes make you just want to cuddle the fluffy little creatures. I have no doubt that Disney will sell plenty of plush toys based on this new version. The technology in the previous Lion King, not the original 1994 animated Lion King, but the 2019 Jon Favreau “live-action” remake, was indeed impressive, with every detail meticulously captured and the fur realistically rendered. But when it comes to technology, this new version leaves the old one in the shade. The animals look more realistic than ever, and their mouth movements align better with the spoken dialogue. For some viewers, that might be all they need.

It’s quite ironic that as our technology advances, our films seem to lose their imaginative edge. Compare the original “Lion King,” hand-animated, with its successor from 2019 by Favreau. The former, in just 88 minutes, manages to blend high tragedy, surrealism, coming-of-age story, adventure, and revenge thriller seamlessly. It’s a wild epic that has left an indelible mark on our collective culture. The 2019 production, despite grossing over a billion dollars, feels like a pale imitation, more like a nature documentary than a movie, repeating the same story with little of the bold creativity that made the original a peak of Disney’s Renaissance era. “Mufasa: The Lion King,” directed by Barry Jenkins, is visually impressive but lacks the impact of its predecessor, making one wonder about the lost artistic potential, especially given the talent involved. It’s likely to make a fortune, but from an artistic standpoint, it feels like a missed opportunity.

The upcoming movie serves as a prequel, focusing on Mufasa’s rise to power in the Pride Lands and his encounter with Scar. The story is shared by the wise mandrill Rafiki (John Kani) to Kiara (Blue Ivy Carter), a young cub, while her parents Simba (Donald Glover) and Nala (Beyoncé Knowles-Carter) are away at the birthing grounds. However, Pumbaa the warthog and Timon the meerkat, who were humorous characters in previous films, deliver a series of jokes that fall flat this time around, making you wonder if they’re trying too hard to be funny. In the past, their humor was one of the film’s highlights; here, it feels more like desperate improv, akin to two comedians struggling on stage under the influence of drugs.

The primary narrative revolves around young Mufasa, initially voiced by Braelyn and Brielle Rankins as a cub and later by Aaron Pierre as a young adult. He is separated from his parents and ends up in a remote part of the savanna where he meets Taka, a friend portrayed first by Theo Somolu as a cub, then by Kelvin Harrison Jr. Taka’s father, Obasi (Lennie James), is strict and powerful, while his mother Eshe (Thandiwe Newton) is compassionate. Taka desires a brother but Obassi wants to preserve their royal bloodline, leading Mufasa to spend time with the females of the pride who teach him their ways.

In simpler terms, Mufasa performs an act that seems impossible. To fully appreciate the narrative, it’s best if viewers aren’t aware of the future relationship between Mufasa and Taka (who will eventually become Scar). The story is structured as a tale told to Kiara, who isn’t familiar with events from the first movie. This setup makes sense. However, the film also references the shocking act of betrayal from the original Lion King, where Taka and Mufasa are often in precarious situations together, such as at the edge of cliffs, rivers, etc. These moments might be considered “easter eggs,” since they preemptively hint at events that technically haven’t occurred yet within the timeline of the story.

The movie focuses on creating lifelike animals, which leaves little room for excitement in its action scenes. The characters inhabit a digitally constructed world that lacks the thrill and peril found in traditional animation or real-life violence due to its PG rating. As a result, director Jenkins attempts to add energy through rapid, flashy camera movements. However, these movements lose their impact in a digital realm, feeling more like a cursor moving across a screen rather than conveying freedom or vastness. One notable exception is an underwater fight scene where the lions swim without gravity constraints, offering a brief moment of poetry and reminding us of what’s been missing. In some instances, striving for photorealism can overshadow the true essence of reality.

It’s possible that the characters could have explored deeper spiritual aspects due to the constraints of blockbuster production. These possibilities were certainly there. In his original portrayal by Jeremy Irons, Scar exhibited a sly, sinuous charm that made him an unexpected symbol for the LGBTQ+ community. While it might be unrealistic for today’s Disney, a company even larger and more integrated than in 1994, to fully endorse this idea, transforming the character into a whining, lovelorn coward seems excessive. Perhaps allowing ambiguity to persist could add depth to both the character and the storylines his actions would inspire.

In a similar vein, a movie titled The Lion King may encounter issues when it consistently emphasizes that monarchy is not favorable, as if to justify itself. This was similarly observed in Favreau’s remake, which transformed the original’s traditional and somewhat outdated themes into a bland, pseudo-democratic narrative; the phrase “Everything the light touches is our kingdom” now comes with additional conditions about shared ownership. Interestingly, it’s the antagonists who use the “everything the light touches” construction in Mufasa. Despite the film’s portrayal of characters who seem oblivious to royal lineages, its protagonist is endowed with extraordinary abilities such as keen sense, sight, and intuition, seemingly to underscore that, indeed, he is a Chosen One. It’s disheartening to witness the once straightforward, powerful, and Shakespearean theme become convoluted in an attempt to stay relevant and possibly align with Disney’s collection of superheroes and Jedi knights. What’s the purpose of all this?

Jenkins is an exceptionally skilled artist known for producing outstanding pieces of work in the past. At his peak, he possesses a distinctive ability to express intricate feelings through cinematic techniques; this sets him apart as a born filmmaker rather than just a storyteller who also happens to create films, or a commander directing studio epics (or even a marketer capable of framing a shot or two). What’s particularly striking about “Mufasa” is that it seems devoid of the tranquil sensitivity and tender curiosity that Jenkins brought to projects such as “Moonlight” and “If Beale Street Could Talk”. In Jenkins’ films, so much meaning is communicated through silence, in the way his characters look at one another or themselves. But how does one achieve this, when the characters are CGI lions whose expressions cannot convey the same range of emotions? Strip that aspect from this director’s work, and you lose entire realms of expression.

As a movie enthusiast, if you squint just a bit, you might catch glimpses of the movie Jenkins envisioned. However, it’s not a love story as one might expect; it’s not about finding your place in the world; it’s not about the heavy burden of responsibility. Instead, it could have been a complex exploration of growing up, where warmth and affection transform into resentment and betrayal. Unfortunately, Jeff Nathanson’s script seems to focus more on literal interpretation than emotional depth, paying only occasional tribute to these themes. The Lin-Manuel Miranda songs are mentioned, but I must admit, they’ve already faded from my memory. Despite all the stunning technological advancements, a film lacks impact when it doesn’t know its own identity.

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2024-12-19 17:54