Pihla Pekkarinen reviews the much-anticipated Disney sequel.

Frozen, when it was first released six years ago, gripped the world. Frozen paraphernalia was inescapable. Anyone who had or spent time with young children in the first few years after its release was haunted by the spectres of Anna and Elsa. At the small preschool I taught at, there were at least three Elsas or Annas at Halloween and Carnival.

Frozen was hailed by parents and critics alike for its feminist undertones. The leads were two strong, independent women, and the film prioritized the relationship of sisterly love over romantic love. It depicted the difference between a manipulative romantic relationship and a supportive one, making clear how not all romantic relationships are equal. It embraced femininity as a strength rather than a weakness. Criticism arose too, with some claiming that the stereotypically princess-like appearances of Elsa and Anna contribute to unattainable beauty standards, particularly shameless in their targeting of young girls. Overall, however, the release of Frozen in 2013 was recognised as a huge step in the right direction for Disney.

Frozen II follows nearly the same path as its predecessor. Anna and Elsa set off on another quest for the truth, meet guiding characters, and eventually succeed in saving their people from peril once again. It is a heartfelt film with a formulaic plot and the occasional chuckle-provoking joke. The characters grapple with moral dilemmas but are never themselves at the center of them. The film reprises almost all the elements of the smash-hit “Let it Go” in a similar power ballad, with the main difference being that Elsa has graduated to letting her hair fall fully down this time. (One wonders what the next step will be: perhaps Frozen III’s Elsa will shave her head, or even dye it pink?) Frozen II is hardly revolutionary. Or is it?

In one scene, the beloved snowman-friend Olaf turns to Anna, confessing he feels angry at Elsa for letting him down. Instead of dismissing him, or encouraging Olaf to sympathise with and forgive Elsa, Anna immediately acknowledges and validates his hurt. Olaf’s anger is not treated as negativity to be suppressed, but rathe an emotion as valid and important as any other. In another poignant moment, as Anna rides into battle, instead of questioning her judgement or trying to protect her, Kristoff asks what she needs and follows through on her request. He later tells her, in one of the more memorable lines of the film, “My love is not fragile.” Their relationship is depicted as one of partnership and collaboration, rather than patriarchal oppression and imbalanced power. The film also features an indigenous community modelled after the Sami people of Northern Europe. The portrayal has been lauded by its Sami audience as both accurate and respectful. Frozen II acknowledges (in a limited, Disneyfied way) a history of oppression and violence against global Indigenous communities.

Frozen II actively responds to Disney’s troubling social legacy, toying with the stereotypes and tropes associated with the genre. The film is aware of the susceptibility of its young audience, and consciously attempts to send empowering messages. However, they are not particularly well-integrated into what is essentially a standard Disney princess plot, and older audiences may find this constant moral nudging slightly grating. But the film cannot and should not be faulted for trying to do better: the effort to create a more inclusive and empowering future for Disney is explicit.

Frozen II is unlikely to have the all-consuming legacy of its predecessor. The songs are less catchy, the new characters less compelling (due partly to their limited screen time), and the plot more convoluted. It is nevertheless a charming and heartwarming piece of entertainment which will undoubtedly prove popular amongst its young audience. At least Frozen II has some originality and is not a live action remake of an already existing film. Ultimately, Frozen II represents an effort on Disney’s part to do better–which counts for something in this wintery political climate.

Frozen II is still showing in cinemas worldwide. Check out the trailer below:

Chloe Woods watches Pixar’s colourful new feature.

Full confession: it took genuine effort not to break into embarrassing sobs in the middle of the (fairly busy) cinema. That might be the sleep deprivation talking, or it might be because Pixar hasn’t produced a tear-jerker like this since the first few minutes of Up. And that is, obviously, a recommendation.

In lively small-town Mexico, the Dia de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead) approaches. For twelve-year-old Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez), cursed with being a budding musician in a family of music-hating shoemakers, it provides the opportunity to live up to his idol Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt) by competing in the talent competition – until he sets off a real curse and finds himself in the Land of the Dead. Now, to exactly nobody’s surprise, he has until daybreak to get home or be trapped there forever, with only fast-talking chancer Hector (Gael Garcia Bernal) to help him get to Ernesto, the one person Miguel believes can get him home on his own terms. (Yes, it’s an oddly specific request.) From there – the usual plot shenanigans and adventures are predictable, but nonetheless heartfelt twists ensue (basically, if you thought twice about the title when you learned who Coco was, you’re 95% of the way there) – and we reach the equally predictable, but well-earned, happy ending. Or as close as you can get to one when half the cast is dead.

Death here is not an ending – only the beginning of a new kind of life, full of joy and love for many, in the teetering, colourful Land of the Dead. If I knew more about Mexican culture perhaps I’d have spotted more, because the film brims over with its vibrant celebration – including conversations with Frida Kahlo (Natalia Cordova-Buckley), quite literally multicoloured alebrije acting as spirit guides, and an opening narration illustrated by the cut-out silhouettes of paper pennants while Miguel indignantly explains that his great-great-grandmother Imelda (Alanna Ubach), after being abandoned by her no-good musician husband, could have gone into the business of fireworks or wrestlers’ underwear but, no, it had to be shoes. Miguel is delightful through the film both in voice and animation (and has a cute animal sidekick, therefore is clearly a princess), while the rest of the voice cast holds up perfectly well even if Imelda’s pet cat does act as something of a scene-stealer. Though all the characters are memorable except – perhaps intentionally – the villain, unnameable for reasons of spoilers but quite of the seen-it-before moustache-twirling mould; they are capable of hiding in plain sight and earning the trust of otherwise good, sensible people. This is – in case the whole “journey to the afterlife on the day of remembrance for dead loved ones” didn’t tip you off – one of Pixar’s more thematically complex films (which I’d love to talk about more, except: spoilers): if you opt to beg or borrow a small child to justify seeing it, pick one of school age¹. It’s really not necessary, though. Nobody’s going to judge you for making a detour away from The Darkest Hour to see the superior film.

And the music. Ah, the music: not because it is spectacular, or because the singing is phenomenal as anyone can have technique. This is not a musical: it is a film about music, which is very different. Though never stated outright, the intent is clear – that music has most value not in performance or the quest for fame, but in the connections it helps create and preserve between human beings. If some of the leads are a little shaky on their vocal chords, it matters far less than the heart in the music and the fact they’re singing at all. And through the music, the memory of love².

Coco is out now in UK cinemas. Watch the trailer:

¹That’s not to say it isn’t a film for kids. It is very much a film for kids, death and betrayal included. There’s a quote I can’t quite remember, or name who said it – though it may have been CS Lewis, or somebody adjacent to him – to the effect of aspiring to tell stories that are worthy of children. Coco is one such.

²This, specifically, is why you’re going to cry.