After the Renaissance: Disney’s Overlooked Animation – The Emperor’s New Groove

For better or worse, Disney movies have had a lasting dominance over childhood entertainment. While that dominance has shifted and bled into a variety of properties (superheroes, Jedi, and so on), we’re most familiar with how it pertains to animated features. 2D animated Disney films are a rite of passage, even if the style is no longer en vogue. While every generation has their hallmark Disney movies, there’s a peculiar blind spot when we take a closer look at the canon. There’s reverence for the early classics from the 40s to 60s, eternal nostalgia for the films of the Disney Renaissance of the 90s, but what can be said of the early 2000s? 

2D animation didn’t fully wane in popularity until around the mid-2000s, and Disney’s last feature using the medium was 2009’s The Princess and the Frog. Yet, when looking at the early 2000s, it’s almost as if the movies made in this period don’t exist. They aren’t front and center in Disney + marketing, the characters are hardly ever roving the theme parks, and you’d be hard-pressed to find merchandise of any kind. The Disney canon from 2000 to 2004 has been labeled their red-headed stepchild. The goal now is to go back and take a look at them from top to bottom: what was the climate like in Disney’s animation studios when these films were being made? How did that affect their value to the brand? What makes them worthy of consideration now? The four 2D animated films released in these years deserve to be hailed as some of Disney’s best, not just of this time period, but amongst their canon in its entirety.

The Emperor’s New Groove was released on December 15th, 2000. Despite its bouncy comedic tone, Emperor’s history is rife with artistic torture and grief. The film was originally pitched to CEO Michael Eisner in 1994 by Roger Allers, who had already worked on several films in the Renaissance. It was to be a grand musical set in Peru featuring a Prince/Pauper switch, a sorceress hellbent on destroying the sun that aged her… and someone turning into a llama (somehow that survived). Eisner gave the project his blessing, saying it had “all the elements of a classic Disney picture.”

It’s hard to overstate how much work was put into Emperor’s predecessor, originally titled Kingdom of the Sun. The process was characterized by a palpable excitement for the unique setting and characters, yet a lack of definite structure. Animators had flown to Peru for firsthand research, and had accumulated large amounts of reference material. They drew inspiration from the architecture and geography of the country, as well as the facial features of the Peruvian people they met and the colors they dressed in. However, it was also clear that Allers and co-director Mark Dindal, who came onto the project later, were having a difficult time establishing the specifics of the story. Dindal was brought on after a string of mediocre performances at the box office from Disney’s animated films. Their more serious ventures were losing audiences, and already it was decided that Kingdom needed a lighter, more comedic touch if it was to perform well. Yet, with characters being animated, actors being cast and recording lines, and even the musician Sting writing songs by 1997, there was still no hard script. Ideas were added and scrapped in rapid succession. No one quite saw this as a sign of a doomed film, though. Thomas Schumacher, a Disney executive, remarked at the time that animation is in a “constant state of workshop,” so the process seemed normal. 

Bigger troubles began once the film was screened for Schumacher and Walt Disney Feature Animation President Peter Schneider. Confidence in the film coming out of this screening was incredibly low, and the overhaul of Kingdom began in earnest. It was thought that the film was too ambitious, messy in its desire to connect so many elements and characters. They feared it was too broad and mystical, that audiences, especially children, would simply not engage or care at all. Despite the fact that almost a quarter of the film was animated, with Sting’s songs completed and almost entirely recorded, little of Kingdom’s roots would remain in the finished product: The Emperor’s New Groove. Allers, disheartened by the dramatic changes made to his story, departed the project, leaving Dindal as the sole director. Many animators jumped ship as well for the same reason as Allers: they had already devoted so much time and energy to a vision that would never see the light of day. There were frequent meetings with other directors and creative heads at Disney (the famous “braintrust”) all in efforts to ensure that the film wouldn’t be lost completely.

After years of research and endless reworking, what remained of Kingdom of the Sun was an environment loosely inspired by Peru, a spoiled prince and his relationship with a llama herder, and a magic potion that turns said prince into a llama. The mysticism was heavily diluted, the songs were removed entirely, and the comedic focus was stronger than anything Disney had produced thus far. This final concept was only decided a mere year and a half before the film’s scheduled release. 

With such a hectic history, it would be easy to assume that the final product was a disaster. Yet the most miraculous thing about Emperor is that it’s not only a functional film but a legitimately great one. There is an enthusiasm imbued within the film that was never lost despite the many shapes the story took. While executives were scared of the idea of the straightforward comedy after Hercules’s disappointing audience reception, Dindal and producer Randy Fullmer insisted that Emperor could succeed because of its smaller scope and its focus on character.

Emperor has one of the most distinct aesthetics in Disney’s repertoire. It retains the Peruvian inspired setting, meaning that the landscape is incredibly dynamic, with rolling hills, deep ravines, and immense waterfalls. These locations also provide memorable backdrops to the film’s set pieces. Quips and jokes are tossed back and forth across raging rivers and canyons. The setting matches the chaotic energy of Kuzco and Pacha’s journey, underscoring just how nonsensical the events are at times. When the film slows down, when Kuzco hits his lowest point, the jungles and plains of the mountainous landscape are vast and beautiful, enveloping the frame in calming greens and yellows. 

Where the quality of the animation stands out especially is in the character design. No two characters look anything like each other, each taking up space in a specific way. Where Yzma is sharp and striking angles bathed in purple, Pacha is warm and round and strong. The best part of these designs is how they lend themselves to such expressive character animation. The different heights, widths, and postures means everyone carries themselves so uniquely, interacting with the world around them with so much personality, from the way they walk to how they jump around in frustration. 

The voice acting works in tandem with expressive animation to make Emperor an effective and engaging comedy. It never feels stale or falls flat because the energy is constantly flowing, never sticking to one limited sense of humor in its storytelling. Yzma and Kronk, voiced by Eartha Kitt and Patrick Warburton respectively, have hysterical contrast with each other. Yzma’s thin voice can swing wildly between sultry and shrill from one second to the next. Kronk’s deep and booming voice feels caring and welcoming, making it all the funnier that he is supposed to be an evil henchman. Their exaggerated proportions and larger than life voices make these characters perfect for being the source of much of the physical comedy in the film.There are little moments funnier than Yzma’s wailing as she’s subjected to the grime of the jungle and all its creatures.

David Spade and John Goodman’s dynamic as Kuzco and Pacha is just as fun. Spade is able to perfectly balance Kuzco’s brashness and immaturity in a way that is never too grating or annoying. It’s honestly wonderful to hear him speak, every line filled with his idiosyncrasies, from how he shuffles around emphasis in certain words to how he’ll curl a sentence with an errant accent. Spade and Goodman’s chemistry is the very center of this film and why it works despite the cards being stacked against it.

Kuzco and Pacha are fun to watch because, although they can bicker, they also form a friendship that you can believe in. Spade’s performance is heartbreaking in the moments Kuzco realizes his entire life has been severely lacking in true connections, and he becomes aware of how lonely he is. When his jokes and brattiness fall away, he sounds incredibly young and vulnerable. Goodman’s performance is also excellent in how genuine and kind he is in spite of all the trouble Kuzco causes him. He guides Kuzco, somewhere in the space between a father figure who is not afraid to tell him the truth and a true friend he can just laugh with. Pacha is not only a family man looking out for his own, but a good man who extends his graciousness to someone he truly believes deserves it.

Beyond being bright and funny, Emperor is also very sweet. At a turning point for animation where children’s films started skewing more adult and cynical, Emperor is able to retain the trademark Disney optimism. What’s much more interesting, though, is the new way it reflects this optimism. Kuzco is one of the rare Disney protagonists who does not find self-actualization through romantic love, a curious trend that persists in many of the films Disney released around this time. Throughout Kingdom’s development, one of the hardest story beats to map out was the love story between the prince and a young village girl. Yet, Emperor is so much better for choosing to focus on the love between Kuzco and Pacha. 

It is a dynamic rarely seen in animated films, especially Disney films. Kuzco and Pacha grow to love and care very deeply for each other as friends, and the film never declares it a pseudo father/son bond. Rather, it is a charming example of how fulfilling friendships can develop no matter the age difference. Pacha allows a better version of Kuzco to bloom, one that had been stifled by lofty expectations and isolation. Through Pacha’s example and impact on his life, Kuzco learns that being kind and generous isn’t just better for the people around him, it makes him feel better about himself. At the end of the film, when he lovingly embraces different members of Pacha’s village, it feels earned. Kuzco can still be sarcastic and lighthearted, but now he understands that there is more to life than looking out for his own self interest. It is a heartwarming moral, one that emphasizes finding a loving and accepting community that gives you healthy room to grow into your best self rather than a singular soulmate to ride off into the sunset with.

There is a quote from producer Randy Fullmer that stuck out in all of the production notes around the beginning of Kingdom of the Sun’s development. He said, around this time, Disney was very focused on broadening its horizons, that “we don’t wanna keep making the same sort of film, and have given, really, the people in the studio a lot of artistic license to different sorts of stories.” It is sad, then, that this sentiment didn’t hold true throughout the entirety of Emperor‘s production. Disney was scared off by how unlike previous ventures it was, both in subject matter and tone, and decided to limit its marketing and toss it into a release date that put it against much stronger titles. They didn’t seem to trust the great film they had. While it predictably underperformed at the box office, it sold record-breaking numbers on home video. There was an audience for a unique story like this, whether Disney chose to acknowledge it or not. This began their sad trend of downplaying their animated films that were more ambitious, more distinct than the offerings of other studios. 

Compared to other box-office failures in Disney’s history, Emperor was not as neglected as it could have been. A straight-to-DVD sequel and a lackluster cartoon on the Disney Channel were spun out of the property. Digging around the back of Hot Topic or Disney Stores might reward you with some t-shirts based on the film, but that is as far as Disney likes to remember its existence. Despite it all, The Emperor’s New Groove is an extraordinary film: funny and visually striking and heartfelt. While studio executives didn’t believe in it as much as they should have, it does not affect its endurance and enjoyability. All these years later, it’s still a buoyant and fun film that’s deceptively captivating and engaging