Writer/director Barry Jenkins has proved himself as a passionate filmmaker through such gorgeous, human dramas as the San Francisco-set love story Medicine for Melancholy, the Best Picture-winning coming-of-age tale Moonlight, and the poignant adaptation of James Baldwin's If Beale Street Could Talk. So, if anyone could course-correct Disney away from the dead-eyed CGI remake of 2019's The Lion King, it'd be Jenkins, right?
Mufasa: The Lion King might be the greatest challenge the filmmaker has ever faced. Gone are the gorgeous human faces from which his sophisticated lens captured emotions big and fragile. The dialogue here is not penned by him or translated from a celebrated playwright, but comes from Jeffrey D. Nathanson, whose credits include Speed 2: Cruise Control, Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, and the "live-action" Lion King. The vibrant colors and enthralling animation style of the 1994 Disney animated classic have been chucked in favor of a more photorealistic look, draining Jenkins' previously bold palette. And because this is a prequel, there are requisites of plot and aesthetic that inherently confine the filmmaker's creativity.
So, has Jenkins overcome all this to make a film worthy of his reputation? No, but he makes a noble effort.
Mufasa: The Lion King is a bunch of origin stories no one asked for.
Have you ever wondered how Mufasa met Rafiki? How Zazu's morning reports came about? Where Rafiki got his signature walking stick or why Pride Rock looks like it does? No. Oh, well, this just got awkward. Yes, the main thrust of Mufasa: The Lion King is the backstory of how Mufasa came to be the King of the Pride Lands. But that doesn't stop this prequel from ham-fistedly shoving in additional lore to an eye-roll-worthy degree. The same attitude is taken with crudely wedging in popular characters — or at least cute and comedic ones — that have nothing to do with Mufasa's origins for some easy fan fodder.
As such, Mufasa begins with an adult Simba (Donald Glover) leaving his cub Kiara (Blue Ivy Carter) with babysitters Timon and Pumbaa (Billy Eichner and Seth Rogen), who swiftly cede storytelling duties to Rafiki (John Kani). From there, things get very Princess Bride, in that the story the mystic mandrill tells will be interrupted for Kiara to ask clarifying questions or for Timon and Pumbaa to deliver fart jokes or inexplicable pop culture references, including an allusion to The Lion King on Broadway. (Timon is furious he's a puppet in it.)
Amid these oft-irksome interruptions, the story of a young Mufasa takes shape both slowly and too swiftly. The Shakespearean gravitas of the original Lion King is lost amid the ruthlessly realistic animal faces that look mostly accurate aside from their mouths twisting to deliver lines like "I've always wanted a brother!"
The broad strokes of the plot are these: After a flash flood washes Mufasa far away from his homeland, he's rescued by a young, British-sounding prince/cub named Taka. After a rousing musical number, they decide they will be brothers (no matter what Taka's royal and xenophobic father says about "strays"). But when a pride of white-furred lions led by the fearsome Kiros (Mads Mikkelsen, because of course Mads Mikkelsen), a now-adolescent Mufasa (Rebel Ridge's Aaron Pierre) flees with Taka (Chevalier's Kelvin Harrison Jr.) to preserve the royal bloodline, heading for the mythical lands of Milele. Along the way, the pair will meet several familiar Lion King characters, before revealing the most telegraphed plot twist in all Disney history.
Mufasa: The Lion King brings together an astounding cast and Lin Manuel-Miranda as lyricist.
To Jenkins' credit, his cast is full of phenomenal talent. Pierre won praise earlier this year for his grounded and gritty action-hero turn in the hard-hitting thriller Rebel Ridge. Harrison Jr. has awed in critically heralded dramas like Luce and Waves, Joe Wright's adaptation of Cyrano, and the achingly underseen but moving biopic Chevalier. Also in the mix voicing lions are Emmy winner Thandiwe Newton (Westworld), BAFTA winner Lennie James (Save Me), Anika Noni Rose (aka the voice of Princess Tiana in The Princess and the Frog), Keith David (Dr. Facilier in The Princess and the Frog), and Folake Olowofoyeku (Bob Hearts Abishola). Plus, from 2019's The Lion King, Jenkins inherited Glover, Rogen, Eichner, Kani, and Beyoncé as Nala, who shares a brief scene with her real-life daughter Blue Ivy Carter, playing Kiara.
Collectively, this ensemble brings gravitas, emotions, and life into these characters. And new songs from Lin-Manuel Miranda (Hamilton, Moana, Encanto) deliver some welcomed joy amid the grim plotline of conquest, jealousy, and death. However, the songs here don't compare to Miranda's best, nor Elton John and Tim Rice's work in the original Lion King. Instead, much like the Miranda-less Moana 2, they feel like pale imitations of the original.
"I Always Wanted a Brother," sung as a duet of young Taka and young Mufasa, running about the other species of their terrain, echoes the youthful enthusiasm and naïveté of "I Just Can't Wait to Be King." Elsewhere, Mikkelsen delivers surly commitment and snarling cheek with the threatening "Bye Bye," but can't compare to Jeremy Irons' grandiose (and more cleverly written) "Be Prepared," an all-time best of Disney villain songs. The best of the soundtrack is "Tell Me It's You," sung by Aaron Pierre and Tiffany Boone, who voices Sarabi. "Can You Feel The Love Tonight," is undoubtedly hard to live up to, but actually hearing the lions at the song's center sing of their love is undeniably impactful, the hesitancy of their confessions of love playing out in a rushing, winsome song. But there's one big enemy to creativity that this could-have-been epic collaboration of talents can't overcome.
Mufasa: The Lion King is dragged down by the "live-action" aesthetic.
I can't get past it, not in 2019 and not now. The decision to make a "live-action" Lion King binds the filmmaker to an animation style that bleeds away so much of the expressiveness that makes this medium a place for the impossible. Imagination is drowned in place of photorealism, which brings nothing interesting or exciting to these films. This pursuit of naturalism robs Jenkins of the freedom to play with color, as he did so memorably and movingly in Moonlight and If Beale Street Could Talk. Here, aside from splotches of occasional flowers, his lions live in a world of neutral colors. And perhaps it's a world gorgeously rendered, but the constantly moving "camera" won't allow you to linger on anything.
The shots in Mufasa: The Lion King are short and always moving. Watching the film on 3D IMAX, I realized I couldn't focus my eyes on anything, not because of the glasses, or some projection issue, but because nothing stayed consistently in frame for more than five or seven seconds. The eyes of the lion, the arc of a distinctive tree, the feathers of a soaring bird. I tried again and again to focus my eyes and take in natural wonders Disney has clearly spent plenty on recreating, but the constant prowling of the camera makes taking in such elements impossible to savor.
Perhaps Jenkins and director of photography James Laxton (Moonlight! If Beale Street Could Talk!) were looking to recreate the sense of a lion on the move, constantly swerving the camera to take things in. Or maybe they were keeping things moving to hide the seams of a world that strives for realism and falls short of the awe evoked by actual nature? Either way, it's disappointing. Mufasa: The Lion King is not the eyesore of its predecessor. The sparkling clear eyes of cub Kiara alone prove that point. But neither is it the awe-inspiring vision of the 1994 original.
Faced with the fan service expectations demanded of sequels and the soul-crushingly uninspired "live-action" animation style, Jenkins strove to break through with radiant human talent, swelling song numbers, and a physical point-of-view that perhaps allows the audience to feel part of the pride. But his swipes at originality are swallowed by so much IP. In the end, Mufasa: The Lion King is periodically entertaining but falls far short of reaching the heights of the original.
