When I first heard about Moana 2, my immediate reaction was excitement tinged with skepticism. Sequels, especially in the Disney pantheon, are tricky. They often fall into the trap of either retreading old ground or overcomplicating their narratives in an attempt to justify their existence.
With Moana 2, the stakes are high. The first film was a love letter to Polynesian culture, wrapped in a beautifully animated tale of self-discovery and adventure. This sequel, however, tries to expand its horizons by embracing a broader Ocean-centered Indigenous Peoples’ perspective, a task that feels both ambitious and, at times, too big for its 100-minute runtime.
The movie starts strong, reintroducing us to Moana, now the confident voyager whom enjoying her privileges as the daughter of tribal chief and a hero to the people. Her voice, still brought to life by Auli’i Cravalho, exudes a warmth and determination that immediately draws you in.
The premise unfolds with a mysterious vision: Moana sees glimpses of an island, Motufetu, a fabled hub where Pacific Islanders once united before it was lost to the wrath of Nalo, an ancient storm god. The vision comes abruptly, almost too abruptly, as if the film is already racing against the clock to set its plot into motion. There’s no real time to linger on how these visions impact Moana emotionally or spiritually; they’re more of a narrative device to propel her journey forward.
As Moana sets out to assemble her team — a motley crew of allies from different Pacific cultures — the film begins to show flashes of its ambition. There’s Loto, a fiercely independent shipwright who seems obsessive on ship building with no proper background on how for Polynesian the profession is sacred and their skills often ties with “gift from the ancestors”, and Moni, a extra cheerful fanboy of Maui who regardless of his age seems the one equipped with the most knowledge about the culture, and lastly Kele, an old islander who don’t know how to swim but master of farming.
While their introductions are engaging, the film doesn’t give these characters enough room to breathe. Their backstories and cultural nuances are not touched, almost as if the filmmakers are ticking off boxes rather than weaving their stories naturally into the narrative. It’s frustrating because you can see the potential for these characters to enrich the film’s exploration of Oceanic heritage, but they’re ultimately reduced to supporting roles in Moana’s journey.
The journey itself feels rushed and somewhat disjointed.
The difficulties they face — treacherous storms, hostile sea creatures, and the missing internal conflicts as how normally happens upon all crew who goes travel together — are all presented in rapid succession, leaving little time for reflection or emotional resonance. There’s a particularly harrowing scene where the crew must navigate through a labyrinth of underwater caves, which could have been a standout moment if it weren’t over in a blink. The pacing here is indicative of the film’s broader struggle: it’s trying to do too much in too little time.
And then there’s Nalo, the storm god, whose presence looms over the story but never quite lands with the weight it should.
Nalo’s motivations are hinted at — a deep resentment for humanity’s hubris and disconnection from nature — but they’re never fully explored. The film seems hesitant to delve into the complexities of this antagonist, opting instead for a more straightforward “force of nature” approach. It’s a missed opportunity to add depth and nuance to the story, especially given the rich mythological traditions of the Pacific.
When Moana and her crew finally reach the submerged Motufetu, the film briefly regains its footing. The visuals are stunning, with bioluminescent coral reefs and ghostly remnants of the island’s once-thriving community. There’s a palpable sense of history and loss here that the film captures beautifully.
However, the climax — Moana’s solo free dive to touch the island and restore its harmony — feels oddly simplistic.
After all the buildup, all the challenges and sacrifices, it boils down to a single moment of physical bravery. While it’s meant to be symbolic, it comes across as anticlimactic, as if the film is more interested in wrapping up its story neatly than exploring the deeper implications of Moana’s actions.
That being said, the film does deserve praise for its commitment to keeping Polynesian culture at the heart of its narrative. The details—the tattoos, the chants, the wayfinding techniques—are lovingly rendered and feel authentic. The filmmakers clearly did their homework, and it shows.
All these are especially evident in the music, which is arguably the film’s strongest element. The collaboration between Abigail Barlow, Emily Bear, Opetaia Foa‘i, and Mark Mancina results in a soundtrack that is both modern and deeply rooted in tradition. The standout number, “Beyond,” is a worthy successor to “How Far I’ll Go,” capturing Moana’s unyielding spirit and her desire to push boundaries. It’s a song that stays with you, a reminder of why Moana is such a compelling character in the first place.
However, even as I was swept up in the music and the vibrant animation, I couldn’t shake a certain cynicism.
The movie’s penchant for storytelling feels like a double-edged sword. On one hand, it’s a testament to the power of oral traditions and the resilience of Indigenous cultures. On the other hand, it’s hard not to see it as a justification for the sequel’s existence. When Moana declares, “Nalo wants to end our story,” it’s difficult not to hear the subtext: Disney wants us to keep buying into this franchise. Moana remains a powerful character, a symbol of strength and independence, but she’s also undeniably a product of the Disney machine.
Ultimately, Moana 2 is a film that grapples with big ideas but doesn’t always have the time or space to do them justice. It’s a visually stunning, musically rich experience that honors Polynesian culture, but its narrative feels rushed and, at times, unfocused. There’s so much potential here—so many stories and perspectives waiting to be explored—but the film’s limited runtime forces it to skim the surface rather than dive deep.
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