Moana (live-action)

I vaguely remember watching the original Moana with my wife and kids, but I found it pretty boring and barely paid attention. It was released several years before I launched Worth it or Woke, before I had to force myself to pay attention to crap.

As a result, I really couldn't tell you what, if any, changes were made from it to this version, and what effect those changes had on this Xeroxed copy.

The only thing more difficult than writing a review of a nothing-burger movie is writing one for a soulless nothing-burger copy of an already middling film, one no one asked for, and if the presale ticket numbers (only $4 million over the course of a month) are any indication, it is one that no one plans on seeing. So, I'll be brief.

By design, the live-action Moana is derivative. There's no escaping that, but that shouldn't mean it has to be total garbage. One need only look at the recently released season 2 of X-Men '97 to see an example of someone mining an IP for nostalgia berries the right way. XM97 takes what came before, continues it with respect to the source material, and builds something wholly new upon it.

Conversely, in a colossal act of irony, Disney added humans and removed its story's soul. What we end up with is a less energetic, less engaging copy of an already trite and predictable story that sacrificed what should have been the main narrative, Maui's fall and redemption, for another strong and independent girl who has no business adventuring and would have died a dozen times over had the script gods not intervened on her behalf.

Between The Rock and a Blank Face

The actress playing Moana is in a pretty tough spot. A virtual unknown with only this and three episodes of a TV series no one's ever heard of on her IMDB page, 19-year-old Catherine Laga'aia possesses a lot of poise for someone so inexperienced, but is in the unenveable position of having to deliver most of her uninspired lines to green screens and mist machines, or worse, to a Dwayne Johnson who seems to reset to Standby Mode between his own lines. Her inexperience is on full display during the musical numbers, where she often stands rigidly, bent at the waist and pitched forward, in the unmistakable posture of someone still learning how to perform on a musical stage, or in her over-reliance on smiling and laughing when it's not warranted.

The Rock's natural charisma works in his favor when he's in motion, making him the best thing about Moana by default, but in the quiet moments in between, he channels Kim Catrell's Mannequin and shuts down.

With so little happening around them for most of the time, save the occasional perfunctory and easily overcome action set piece, or a time-wasting montage, The Rock spends half of his screentime in a fugue state, half smiling or confusedly grimacing, wax-statue-like.

Sing and Dance for Your Supper

Most musicals aren't exactly teeming with subtlety and nuance; that's simply not a part of their recipe. What that means is that most of us sit through one, patiently wading through bubblegum dialogue and two-dimensional characters, waiting for the next song-and-dance number. Moana offers two quasi-memorable songs, only one of which is remotely catchy (You're Welcome), but the live-action film falls hardest on its pixelated face during all of them. No one expects The Rock to be a great song and dance man, although Autotune has either markedly improved since the 2016 original's release, or Johnson has taken some lessons, because it was hardly noticeable this time around, and, imperfect though it might have been, his song stands out as the bright spot in the film. That said, the dance choreography and cinematography were as lifeless as the computers 90% of the film was rendered in. Neither Laga'aia nor Johnson appeared comfortable during those scenes, and Laga'aia's auto-tune was in overdrive more than once.

In a film nearly wholly dependent upon the quality of its musical numbers, their complete lack of impact cannot be overstated.

Look at the Pretty Colors

This version of Moana is nothing more than a series of "and thens" that propel its characters across a flat and lifeless story, pausing long enough to fit in a musical number or a toothless bit of danger. When the two hours are up, many will ask themselves, "That's it," while little kids and those entertained by spinning color wheels and bright lights will likely enjoy the 115 minutes of key jangling. If you're desperate to take your family to a movie, as lazy as each of them was, both Toy Story 5 and Minions & Monsters offer slightly better alternatives. Maybe you'll luck out like we did last week and find a double feature at the local drive-in that follows one of them up with the superior The Sheep Detectives.