Over the years, Colombia has had a bad wrap in terms of representation in the media. This has led many people to believe that the country is an overall dangerous and corrupt place, since many stereotypes that surround Colombia paint it as a region of South America filled to the brim with drug cartels, gangs, and violence.
Nonetheless, I, as a pure-bred Colombian, can testify that these twisted depictions of my country are mostly false in the long run, and I can also say that Colombia has so much to offer beyond the usual takes. That’s why I’m so glad to say that Encanto is such a delightful breath of fresh air in terms of cinema in general, since it is a movie that truly presents a facet of Colombia that one could be proud of, without compromising a great and heartfelt story along the way.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First of all, I need to clarify that my experience as a Colombian watching Encanto wasn’t a thing that I feared, since the way that I took on evaluating it was as a mostly casual, cosmopolitan bystander. However, it’s important to note that my take on it is from an advantageous perspective, since I can vibe more with some things that the movie addresses.
Encanto is the newest computer-animated movie by Disney. Encompassing the genres of comedy, fantasy, and musical, Encanto is the 60th film produced by the studio. It was directed by Jared Bush and Byron Howard, and co-directed by Charise Castro Smith. Moreover, the movie is graced with original songs written by Lin-Manuel Miranda.
In terms of actual plot, the film tells the story of the Madrigal family, who live in an idyllic, magical house deep within the mountains of Colombia. In this place, all the members of the family have superpowers, except for one: Mirabel (voiced by Stephanie Beatriz). She is the protagonist from which we see the sudden development of the main conflict that will begin afflicting the family. It seems like their house begins to crumble, since the main source of the magic that lifts up the place is slowly draining. Mirabel must find the solution to this issue — which, at the same time, compels her to know more about the past, present, and future of her family.
It is important to note that the main conflict of Encanto (and its eventual plot resolution) stems from certain issues that Colombia has faced during its history — characterized by violent disputes in cities and rural areas that begot forced displacement of families and deep emotional scarring. Moreover, said issues still affect the day-to-day lives of many individuals in the country. Because of this, the treatment of these delicate topics was something fundamental to get right. Taking that into account, I’m glad to say that the team behind the movie did a great job at tackling this subject matter. And to be completely honest, it might just be my favorite thing about the whole film.
It seems like the people that participated in this project had the utmost respect for the sensitive implications that arise from the aspects that set the context of the film in a Colombian setting, as well as their treatment within the story that is being told. Furthermore, the best thing about this is the way that these societal problems are handled in service of telling a wholesome, satisfying, and impactful story, most evidently demonstrated during the few flashback sequences that detail the past of certain characters.
It is precisely these integral scenes that pack the biggest punches in terms of emotional depth. In addition to this, there are significant moments during the second half of the film that lead up to a poignant climax and eventual fitting resolution of the movie. That being said, I have to commend Encanto’s creative team for taking such narrative precautions in order to be respectful and noble in their storytelling devices.
Continuing in a parallel route, it’s important to judge the meticulousness in which the Colombian setting is presented. Despite the cultural blending that Encanto creates, it is never insulting — in fact, it’s the total opposite. It seems like Disney did their homework this time.
Although certain cultural and geographical amalgams may seem strange at first glance (for example, certain places, gowns, and accents don’t correspond to the movie’s apparent setting), they actually function very well in practice. Since Encanto operates as a somewhat aphorism of the very diverse ‘Colombian experience,’ it makes sense that it reunites all the best parts of the country in the same microcosm. Moreover, the fantastic, borderline-utopic premise that the film starts from works in its favor to offer an apt, visually delightful joyride that shows the best that Colombia has to offer. Not in the sense that it works as a tourism ad — more like a proper introduction to an holistic understanding of the place, its people, their idiosyncrasy, and their customs.
It clearly highlights the most vibrant aspects of Colombian culture, but in a graceful and natural way: down to the mannerisms of the characters, the particular words they say, the outfits they wear, their accents, the food they eat, the things they do on a daily basis, and the little things that appear in the background decorating their houses and infusing the surrounding natural scenery with so much beauty. I didn’t expect this level of detail in the most minute things — highly appreciated.
In addition to the emotional lengths it goes to and the movie’s emphasis on useful thematic reconstruction, Encanto presents stunning setpieces and extensive detail in terms of animated grandeur. In this day and age, it’s become expected for Disney to put out these kinds of movies, where you can literally see the little pieces of fabric standing out of character’s dresses and the multiple cracks on ceramic surfaces. Yet, what I found most impressive about the film’s visual aspects were the use of lighting and colors. Although Encanto is not eyes-out-of-sockets revolutionary in this regard, it’s certainly exceptional and very impressive nonetheless.
There’s something that goes hand in hand with the visuals, and that is the music by Miranda and Germaine Franco. The songs in Encanto are right on with the more fantastical set pieces of the movie, yet I didn’t find them mind-numbingly amazing. They are very good, yes, but not all that iconic. Nevertheless, there’s one particular song that really stuck with me: ‘Dos Oruguitas’ (in english, ‘Two Little Caterpillars’). This original song, written by Miranda and sung by Sebastián Yatra, is the total highlight among the soundtrack — it’s heartfelt, gut-wrenchingly sad, and it comes at one of the best moments of the film.
Likewise, my favorite aspect of Encanto’s soundtrack was the use and blending of different autochthonous instruments, musical styles, and rhythms. They did a remarkable job at ingraining them into the melodic identity of the movie. And I also have to mention, in a more technical aspect, the sound design — really impressive stuff.
Structure-wise, the film follows a somewhat traditional yet effective route. However, there’s a couple specific plot points that could have been handled better — there are a few obstacles in Mirabel’s journey that end rather quickly and with easy solutions. Without spoiling anything, the most obvious of these few wobbly moments comes near the third act, making it feel somehow rushed. Now, in terms of the script, it accomplishes its narrative beats fairly well. I also love the fact that the main conflict of the film comes from within the framework that the Madrigal family is built upon and not some external force — this works in favor of Encanto, setting it apart from other Disney movies. Also, the scale and stakes at play couldn’t be more felicitous.
Besides that, it could be argued that Mirabel’s character journey is some kind of motor that fires up another consonant character arc, bigger than her own: that is, her family’s. And once again, without giving away any spoilers, I was more interested in the eventual realization and change of beliefs of her whole household rather than Mirabel’s. But maybe it’s because the emotional implications that back up her family’s struggle vibe much more with me in comparison to the hassle that she faces. However, they are both compelling enough conflicts.
The only other thing that could be kind of half-baked is the characterization of some of the supporting characters (i.e., the members of the Madrigal family and their acquaintances). There are a lot of them, and Encanto does a decent job of setting up most of them and their place in the story. Yet, there are some instances where a few of them felt kind of one-note. This comes into play with the specific plot points mentioned earlier.
At its best, Encanto reaches inspirational heights akin to those of Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life or Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud’s Persepolis. At its weakest, the film can feel like it tries to revamp the emotional beats of another Disney Latin American endeavor: Pixar’s Coco (although lacking the full-throttling emotional devastation that said movie accomplishes). Nonetheless, Encanto still manages to successfully stimulate the tear-jerking nerve in a worthy manner by its own right during various pivotal moments.
Since I just mentioned Coco, I need to address the elephant in the room. The comparisons between Encanto and Coco are unavoidable, mostly because they are both set in slightly similar, Spanish-speaking brother countries. But it’s important to note that they are fairly different movies, each with their own character arcs, narrative interests, and artistic merits (just as the countries themselves). But as a Latin American, I think that both films would make a hell of a double feature. Just to be sure… prepare some tissues beforehand.
Encanto is a very satisfying representation of the diversity and beauty of Colombia. It may also be a heavy contender for best animated feature, not only because it’s a touching portrayal of real human struggles and a visual feast to look at, but also because it manages to capture some of Colombia’s most prevalent and lingering hardships and visualize them through the lens of a single family. That being said, I believe that there’s a feeling that goes way beyond cultures, languages and countries: empathy. And since cinema is such a great vehicle for empathy, it allows us to delve seamlessly into other people’s experiences, real or fictional — that’s the real magical thing.
