Moana

As a person with Polynesian roots, watching Moana felt like witnessing a blend of pride and discomfort. It’s rare to see a Disney movie, or any major Hollywood production, centering Polynesian culture, but with that representation comes both responsibility and scrutiny.

While Moana captures some beautiful aspects of Polynesian life, traditions, and landscapes, it also simplifies complex realities and spiritual beliefs, romanticises the notion of Indigenous life, and perpetuates certain tropes. In this review, I’ll break down the film’s cultural portrayal, gender dynamics, and how it treats Indigenous spirituality, while also sharing my thoughts on the exciting future of Moana: 2.

The Representation

There’s no denying that Moana brings much-needed visibility to Polynesian culture. From the stunning animation of the islands to the breathtaking depictions of the ocean, Disney nailed the aesthetics. They didn’t shy away from portraying traditional Polynesian voyaging, one of the most significant parts of our history.

As a Polynesian, seeing our ancestors’ navigational skills — sailing across vast oceans, guided by the stars — highlighted in such a mainstream film was empowering.

The connection between Polynesian people and the environment is also a central theme in the film. This relationship is deeply rooted in our beliefs, and I was thrilled to see it acknowledged.

The sea isn’t just a backdrop for adventure in Moana; it’s an essential element of life, almost a living being. This reflects the profound respect Polynesians have for nature. Our land and ocean are considered sacred, and Disney deserves credit for emphasising this.

However, this representation, as inspiring as it is, still caters to a global audience. To make the story digestible, the filmmakers simplified our rich cultural narratives. It’s clear that Moana straddles a line — celebrating Polynesian culture while simultaneously packaging it in a way that fits within a typical Disney storyline.

While it’s a win for visibility, it’s a reminder that authenticity can sometimes take a back seat when filtered through the lens of Hollywood.

The Romanticisation

One major critique I have about Moana is its idealisation of Indigenous life, which feeds into the “noble savage” trope.

Moana’s island, Motunui, is depicted as a peaceful, utopian paradise where people live in perfect harmony with nature. Everything about the island, from its lush environment to the cohesive community, paints a picture of a serene, almost mythical existence. While this may appeal to a broad audience, it doesn’t reflect the full reality of Polynesian societies.

Historically, Polynesian communities, like all societies, were complex, marked by social hierarchies, resource struggles, and power dynamics. Wars between tribes were not uncommon, and the idea of constant harmony is a gross oversimplification. This romanticised version of Indigenous life is often used to portray Indigenous people as untouched by modernity, living in an unchanging, static world.

In Moana, this results in a skewed view of our cultures as if we exist only in a state of nostalgic simplicity.

This idealisation is problematic because it perpetuates the notion that Indigenous cultures are frozen in time, solely defined by their connection to nature. While our relationship with the land and sea is a critical part of our identity, it’s not the entirety of who we are. Indigenous people are dynamic and adaptive, not confined to a romanticised version of the past.

The Privilege

While Moana is hailed as a strong, independent heroine, it’s important to acknowledge that her journey and success are largely tied to her privilege as the daughter of the tribal chief.

From the start, Moana is positioned as a future leader, not because of any particular skill or merit but because of her lineage. This privilege allows her to break boundaries and defy expectations in ways that other women in the village likely couldn’t.

The film frames Moana’s rebellion against her father as a triumph of personal will, but it’s clear that her social status enables her to take risks and challenge the traditional roles placed on women in her society.

There’s a missed opportunity here to explore how other young women — those without her privilege — might struggle to assert themselves or take similar paths. Moana’s story is inspiring, but it’s an individual victory, not a systemic one. The film doesn’t delve into the broader question of how leadership and privilege are tied to family status within her community.

The Limitation

One of Moana’s most praised elements is its portrayal of a strong female protagonist who doesn’t need a romantic subplot to define her journey.

Moana’s quest is driven by her determination, bravery, and sense of duty to her people, which is a refreshing take, especially for a Disney film. However, beneath this progressive portrayal lies a larger issue that the movie only scratches the surface of — the limited roles available to women in traditional Polynesian societies.

In many Indigenous cultures, including Polynesian ones, gender roles are often rigid, with leadership and decision-making predominantly in the hands of men.

While Moana breaks free from these gender norms by assuming leadership, the film doesn’t question the patriarchal structures that still exist in her village. Her father’s authority is never fully challenged, and the male-centric leadership model remains intact.

Moana’s story, then, is more about her exceptional nature than a broader shift in the role of women in her community.

The film could have pushed further in examining how women navigate these traditional constraints. Moana’s leadership is seen as extraordinary because it’s against the norm, but what about the other women in her village? Do they have the same opportunities, or does Moana’s journey remain a rare exception?

These are questions left unexplored, and it would have been interesting to see the film dig deeper into the broader struggles of women within Indigenous hierarchies.

The Simplification

Polynesian spiritual traditions are incredibly rich and varied, rooted in a deep connection with the natural world and intertwined with every aspect of life. In Moana, however, these beliefs are presented in a more palatable, simplified form to fit the narrative.

Maui, a central figure in Polynesian mythology, is reduced to a comedic, larger-than-life demigod, with much of his cultural significance left on the cutting room floor. In Polynesian legends, Maui is a complex, multifaceted figure, whose deeds go far beyond the playful trickster we see in the film.

The film also simplifies the deep spiritual connection between Polynesian people and nature. While Moana’s relationship with the ocean is portrayed as magical and whimsical, real Polynesian spiritual beliefs are more intricate. The ocean isn’t a mystical force that physically helps us; rather, it’s something that we must respect, understand, and adapt to.

By making the ocean a literal character with its own agency, the film misses the depth of the actual relationship Polynesians have with their environment, turning it into a fairytale instead of a reflection of lived spiritual practices.

The Anticipation

With the recent news of Moana:2 in the works, my excitement is high. While the first film was a significant milestone for Polynesian representation, there’s so much more that could be done in the sequel to expand on the cultural complexities that were glossed over.

I’m hopeful that Disney will take this opportunity to delve deeper into the intricacies of Polynesian spirituality, governance, and community dynamics.

One aspect I’m particularly excited about is the potential for Moana:2 to showcase a broader array of Polynesian islands and cultures. Polynesia is vast, with a rich diversity that goes beyond what was portrayed in Moana.

The first film introduced the beauty of one island, but I hope the sequel takes us to different islands, each with its own unique traditions and stories. There’s so much richness in our cultures that deserves exploration on the big screen.

Additionally, I’m eager to see how Moana’s leadership evolves. She has already broken gender norms and defied expectations in the first film, but what does that mean for her village and its future? Will her leadership bring about structural changes that challenge the male-dominated hierarchy?

I’m hopeful that Moana:2 will push these boundaries further and offer a more nuanced exploration of power, privilege, and gender within Indigenous communities.

In the end, while Moana had its flaws, it also sparked important conversations about representation, identity, and culture. I look forward to seeing how the sequel builds on this foundation and continues to challenge the way Indigenous stories are told.

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