Mufasa: The Lion King opens in theaters on Friday, December 20.
Mufasa: The Lion King is the best version of the children’s film directed by Barry Jenkins. That praise may read as backhanded, but considering many feared that the Disney machine behind Moonlight would cut and screw with the visual and storytelling splendor of the director, such a surprise result is a strong win. This photorealistic prequel Jon Favreau’s 2019 remake of The Lion King It is a major technological achievement and a sensational leap from its predecessor. And while the story of Mufasa and Tucker, two brothers turned enemies, isn’t exactly new, Jenkins has added enough twists and turns across different terrain for their predictable sibling rivalry.
Seeing Jenkins guide this material, however convincing, will surely leave many grumbling in the minds of those who would rather he made an original film. But there’s no sense that Jenkins created Mufasa solely to satisfy adult moviegoers (although there is a poignant homage to James Earl Jones that will touch many older audiences). This movie is aimed at young audience. There’s mischievous humor and jaunty show tunes to accompany the campfire-story mood. Sometimes the desire to keep the audience engaged – accomplished through a framing device that sees Mufasa’s story told to his granddaughter, Kiara (Blue Ivy Carter), by the sage mandrill Rafiki (John Kani) – prevents us from fully immersing ourselves in this digital world. However, in the end, Jenkins works enough of a spell for Mufasa to awaken true joy and urgent poignancy.
Rank Disney’s live-action/CGI remake
Rank Disney’s live-action/CGI remake
It helps that unlike Favreau, Jenkins isn’t limited to making shot-for-shot remakes. Related to Rafiki – and, often, annoyingly interrupted by sidekicks Pumbaa (Seth Rogen) and Timon (Billy Eichner) – Jeff Nathanson’s script sees young Mufasa (Brailyn Rankins) living in a fractured, drought-stricken land and dreaming of far-flung dreams. The green heaven in the distance is called Miley (a Swahili word meaning “forever”). After a violent flash flood (which mirrors both the action and emotional impact of the animated original’s Wildebeest Stampede) tears the cub from his mother and father, he is swept miles downriver, where he is rescued by Taka (Theo), another pride prince. . Somolu). Thematically, you can already see why Jenkins would be drawn to this material. Colson Whitehead’s miniseries adaptation of The Underground Railroad previously demonstrated his keen interest in kinship, lineage, oral storytelling, and maternal love. The last of these themes takes shape through Tucker’s mother, Ashe (Thandiwe Newton), who raises Mufasa despite the irony of her husband, Obasi (Lenny Jones), who sees outsiders as a plague to be cleansed. As portrayed by a commanding Aaron Pierre, the orphan grows up like Ash, learning empathy, imagination and sensitivity; Buck (a cagey Calvin Harrison Jr.), on the other hand, learns deceit and laziness from his father.
The juxtaposition of the two lions strikes another of Jenkins’ interests: the repetition of violent cycles that sometimes pass from father to son. Mufasa obviously cranks up this theme, almost to his detriment, with the rise of the tyrannical white lion Kyros (Mads Mikkelsen). Escaping Kiros and his murderous followers across intricate jungles and rich renderings of crocodile-infested waters, Mufasa and Taka meet the lioness Sarabi (Tiffany Boone), her hornbill scout Zazu (Preston Nyman) and the exiled Rafiki (Kagiso Lediga). from his community because of his preaching. The film is strongest when Jenkins pursues these castaways: coming-of-age angst like money falling for Sarabi initially adds some mild excitement to the mix.
But Mufasa stumbles whenever it goes back to Kiara. These interludes are a logical inclusion, especially since his questions about betrayal and hatred will likely be echoed by the children in the audience. But the comic relief that Timon and Pumbaa are supposed to provide just doesn’t land. They’re often idiosyncratic, relying on the worn-out schtick of poking fun at Disney and its legacy of tie-in products and best-selling soundtracks, as if they’re sharper than the no-brainer economics that produced Favreau’s prequels. The billion dollar (and much worse) Lion King. They are also tasked with reminding us where we are in the story, a task that is often misperceived individually.
Fortunately, there’s plenty of visual splendor to distract from Mufasa’s comedic flaws. Jenkins and his longtime cinematographer James Laxton love sweeping camera movements, relying on tracks, whip pans and cranes to capture sweeping vistas of meadows and snow-capped mountains – and unlike many contemporary Disney productions, you’d never know they’d pulled. It’s all off on a sound stage. The pair clearly revel in the lush world they’ve created, and it’s refreshing to see long, uninterrupted takes that convince the audience to look at an image for more than five seconds. Likewise, editor Joey McMillan’s dissolve skillfully rolls us from scene to scene rather than bludgeoning the audience with hyperactive cuts.
Jenkins’ strong faith in technology is also rewarded. Unlike Favreau’s cast in The Lion King, the elephants, giraffes and birds here don’t look like melted pieces of plastic. They are impressively elastic. Likewise, Leos actually have facial expressions, emotional with a naturalness that doesn’t play anything out of the uncanny valley. That movement certainly helps with the film’s original songs written by Lin-Manuel Miranda. Most of Miranda’s tracks are memorable enough tunes to keep us bobbing along with the story The primary highlight, however, is the R&B duet “Tell Me It’s You,” which puts Mufasa and Sarabi’s burgeoning romance in the face of jealous Tucker. That rhythmic tempo is a welcome throwback to the days of the Disney Renaissance, when singers like Pebo Bryson lent their voices to sounds from musical-theater giants like Howard Ashman and Alan Menken. (Pop stars before writing And singing the songs, as Elton John did for the original Lion King.)
However, in the last 10 minutes, Jenkins has to tie several bows: the final confrontation between Mufasa and Kiros, the origin of the money spot, and the creation of Pride Rock. He creates a thrilling final sequence, which, when cross-cut between Mufasa and Kiara, brings everything full circle.
