This week, Moana 2 is set to arrive in theaters. Despite releasing in 2016, Moana continues to maintain a strong presence in the homes of viewers as the most streamed film of 2023, and the Moana 2 trailer set a record as the most-viewed animated movie trailer in history. With strong voice acting from Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, mesmerizing ocean animation, and a memorable soundtrack, Moana has cemented its place in the vault of Disney classics. While Moana’s belonging in the pantheon of Disney princesses is undeniable, her story offers a key, albeit subtle, alternative to the typical Disney princess narrative and casts a constructive vision of the role of the individual in revitalizing a culture. Readers might reasonably ask, “What hath Disney to do with Front Porch?” The answer lies in Moana’s surprising commitment to place and culture, one rarely found in storytelling of blockbuster proportions.
Regardless of this popularity with audiences, critics and proponents of the film have continued to miss Moana’s uniqueness, casting it as simply another cinematic example of expressive individualism. Conservatives warn: “The movie (much in the tune of its predecessor, Frozen) teaches kids that they must look within to find their true identity and purpose.” Liberals suggest it merely repackages the existing script: “the main themes of ‘Moana’ are identity and self-discovery—familiar territory, to be sure.”
A brief summary for readers unfamiliar with the film: Moana is the daughter of a chief in the Pacific Islands. In the beginning of the story, Moana appears to mimic the worn-out arc shared by so many other Disney heroines such as Mulan, Ariel, and Pocahontas. We find Moana restless beneath the expectations and restrictions of her father and tribe. Although Moana loves her family and people, her longing for the water and desire to sail into the deep ocean conflicts with a cultural taboo: no one is to go beyond the reef. This struggle of identity and desire leads her to melodiously wrestle with the ultimate question of “Who Am I?” Her longing for the world beyond the reef lies in tension with her desire to play the role of chief for her people on their island. But the two desires inescapably conflict. It appears she must either choose her people or forge a new identity for herself. The stage is set. Moana appears poised to discover her true self outside of her restrictive cultural boundaries.
Amidst the throes of Moana’s existential crisis of “should I stay or should I go,” enters the village crazy lady, who happens to be Moana’s grandmother Tala. Tala drops a bombshell that alters the trajectory of the story. She leads Moana to a hidden cave on the island containing the great ships of their ancestors. The cave reveals the lost identity of her once seafaring people. “We were voyagers!” Moana exclaims as she flies from the cavern. The reconciliation she experiences is immediate and ecstatic. This revelation provides an explanation to the longings of Moana and provides a long-awaited resolution to the inner conflict between her love for her people and her desire to leave the island. As if demonstrating C.S. Lewis’ maxim, “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world,” Moana realizes she no longer has to choose between her longings and her people. The two are intertwined.
Then reality sits in, “Why’d we stop?” She asks her grandmother. The explanation that follows sounds plucked from the pages of Genesis. Maui, the shapeshifter, discontent with the gifts the divines had bestowed on him, sought to take the power to create, thereby plunging the world into a cursed and fallen state. The sea became too treacherous for Moana’s people to explore, causing them to fear what they once had loved. Now, their island is dying from the expanding corruption, putting their way of life at risk. The fish are leaving and the fruit trees are decaying. But legend foretells someone who will emerge from the tribe to restore what has been lost, and on that day the people would sail across the sea once more.
What follows is an entertaining quest to restore order to the world. Moana traverses the ocean battling demon coconuts, treasure-hoarding crabs, and lava monsters. It is not this journey nor the resolution which makes Moana noteworthy. Moana sets off on a journey with an eye toward home. G.K. Chesterton’s words aptly describe her sojourn: “What could be more delightful than to have in the same few minutes all the fascinating terrors of going abroad combined with all the humane security of coming home again?” She leaves her people, yes, but this is a journey with an eye set on home and a search for an identity that remains tethered to something beyond herself. This same dance of longing and identity lies at the heart of human existence.
Rather than discover and express her individual desires, Moana’s journey is one of communal rediscovery and retrieval. Moana does not wish to actualize herself by breaking free of her tribe, nor does she simply desire to depart for another world. She craves restoration, a communal restoration of land and people. Moana longs to recover the identity of her tribe. Something inside her says that they were not meant to live like this. Even though she’s never been outside the reef, she knows that outside the reef is exactly where they belong. Her people have constructed a way of life on the island that fails to meet the desires of her heart; her own pangs for more mirror the rotting away that has plagued their island. Rather than forging a new identity, she returns to old paths. Moana is not following her inner voice. She is listening to the echoes of her ancestors.
Moana’s context may seem eerily similar to our own: we inhabit a land suffering from environmental decay and relational breakdown, experience the pangs and longings for more, and wrestle with the seeming conflict between our collective identity and our individual callings. Moana gestures toward a world where these places of fracture and tension find resolution. She points to a communal identity that in fact speaks to our deepest longings for both home and transcendence, to a healing that can restore our relationship with our people and our land. The ships are not burned; they’ve simply fallen into disuse. Moana’s adventure culminates in her return to lead and restore her people to flourishing. She did not leave her tribe to find herself. She recovered what her tribe had forgotten. In so doing, she reintroduced the source of the longings for life beyond the reef, and she unleashed the healing power that would restore the island and its people. As Wendell Berry reminds us: “Only by restoring the broken connections can we be healed. Connection is health.”
Moana provides a glimpse of this. She connects her personal calling with her communal identity, her longings for transcendence with her commitment to her land, her people back to their original vocation, and the source of life and hope back to those who needed it to thrive. As for Moana 2, rarely are sequels worthy of their predecessors. This sequel may end up following that well-trod path, but that possibility should not stop us from appreciating the surprising wisdom of the original.
Image via Wikimedia Commons
