The first time I remember visiting the Philippines was in 2001. Most of what I remember is heat, humidity, mosquitoes, and that one tarantula that harassed me in a bathroom, but I do recall the island of Boracay. I haven’t been back to that island since, and I’ve heard it’s become an overdeveloped, resort-infested tourist trap, but the Boracay I remember was like something out of a tourist brochure. White, sandy beaches. Clear, blue water. Sipping coconuts hacked right off the tree. Sleeping in a hut. Ants eating the Trix cereal I forgot to put away. In other words, paradise.
Sitting on the hard stadium seats of the Hollywood Bowl, which was somehow chilly in the summer, during the world premiere of the Moana remake, the opening scenes of idyllic island life instantly transported me back 25 years to that warm Filipino beach.
Coming out a full ten years after its original animated counterpart, Moana is Disney’s latest live-action remake, and it has a lot to live up to. Its animated predecessor is the most-streamed movie on Disney+. Much of the chatter surrounding the production was criticism that it was too soon for a remake, on top of lukewarm discourse about Disney’s live-action productions, ridiculously successful box office returns aside.
So once again, we find ourselves facing the question: did this movie actually need to be remade? And once again, my answer is both yes and no. It depends on what you’re looking for.
Let’s start with the “no” camp.
If you’re looking for any distinctiveness, variation, or expansion in the story, you will be sorely disappointed. There is nothing new. The 2026 version of Moana is an almost shot-for-shot recreation of 2016’s Moana. Most of the lines are the same.
For anyone who hasn’t seen the original, the story follows Moana (Catherine Laga’aia), a chief’s daughter torn between her longing to explore the ocean and her inherited duty to lead her people. When an ancient curse threatens the island of Motunui’s food supply, Moana must seek out the demigod Maui (Dwayne Johnson), who caused the curse in the first place, to restore the mystical Heart of Te Fiti to the goddess he stole it from, thereby breaking the curse.
This goes without saying since it’s a remake, but if you’ve seen one version of Moana, you’ve seen the other. There are some slight variations, such as Moana having her leg trapped by a rope rather than by coral, and Maui explaining his lore and feats primarily through stars and constellations rather than his tattoos. These are surface-level changes. Honestly, I prefer the original.
It’s a shame that director Thomas Kail and writers Jared Bush and Dana Ledoux Miller didn’t branch out more and seek to embellish upon the story audiences already loved. Perhaps that audience expectation, coupled with Bush having penned the original, has something to do with it.
But there is precedent for the remake deviating from the original. Part of why I enjoy Jon Favreau’s adaptation of The Jungle Book is that, while he and his writing team kept the narrative’s basic shape, they weren’t afraid to make the story their own. Kail missed the opportunity to craft something unique with this adaptation and to truly justify its existence. Even a little bit of variation in the dialogue would have been welcome.
Part of my curiosity regarding the remake is how good the islands and the ocean would look. It’s a mixed bag. Some of the islands, like Motunui, look gorgeous with their cultural art and lush vegetation. Others, like Maui’s island, look a little too set-designed, fake and CGI. My favourite scene from the animated version was the fight with the Kakamora, and it remained my favourite scene in the live-action version. It was exciting and full of fun things to look at, and I wish it would have lasted longer. As much as I hate the “Shiny” song, the scene’s otherworldly neon colour palette was a welcome bit of vibrant variety. For the rest of the movie, we’re just staring at the ocean or at shots of Moana’s boat, and even though that’s to be expected given the nature of the story, it’s visually quite boring.
Sadly, as much as I do love Dwayne Johnson, his performance as the live-action Maui doesn’t measure up to the animated version. His singing and line delivery are the same as in the 2016 film, and I did enjoy that aspect of his character. “You’re Welcome” is still a fun and catchy song, and his goofy, smug energy as Maui makes him a likeable character. Johnson just doesn’t look the part. I’m reminded of his wrestling name, The Rock, because of how stone-faced he is. Compared to Maui’s expressiveness in the cartoon, Johnson is disappointingly wooden in his movements and facial expressions. Somehow, as big and muscular as he already is, Johnson doesn’t look big enough.
And that wig. The last time I remember seeing Johnson in a role with flowing locks like that was in The Scorpion King in 2002, and though he had at least a little hair in his various other roles throughout the 2000s, I think we’ve all collectively gotten used to him as a bald actor. That still doesn’t excuse how bad the wig looks. Not to wig out too much, but it’s distractingly bad and looks incredibly unnatural perched upon Johnson’s shiny dome. Maybe that’s why Maui doesn’t look as physically intimidating as his animated counterpart.
To segue to the “yes” camp, though Auli’i Cravalho remains the iconic original, Catherine Laga’aia is a worthy successor for the role. Her singing voice is powerful, crisp, sweet and clear. Though she sings the same lyrics as Cravalho, Laga’aia adds enough subtle differences in phrasing and delivery to make the songs her own. She nails the plucky, defiant spirit and deep yearning in the character, which conflict with Moana’s duty to her people. Though at times I felt Laga’aia could have dug deeper into some of Moana’s more complex emotions, such as sorrow, defeat, and anger, she still delivered a stunning performance.
The rest of Moana’s family were charming and helped ground her story. John Tui effectively establishes himself as a doting father but one who gets frustrated with his daughter’s fanciful dreams as he tries to keep her safe while also managing the tribe’s issues. While Frankie Adams has limited screen time as Moana’s mother, she still establishes herself as a nurturing presence who believes in and encourages her daughter. Rena Owen gives a powerful performance as Moana’s grandmother, whose love and trust help motivate our hero to embark on her quest in the first place. Owen occasionally leans a bit too hard into some of her lines to emphasize a joke. Still, her sassy banter and mysterious wisdom make up for it, making her instantly lovable.
The rest of the villagers may not have a ton of lines, but they all help sell the movie and make it so enjoyable. Seeing them work, play, dance and just go about their lives on Motunui lends so much believability to the film. This is an island where people have been for generations and developed a distinct culture and way of life. It’s refreshing to see people with darker skin tones, diverse body types, and an underrepresented culture portrayed on screen authentically, not just as computer-generated characters but as real people.
Complementing that is the music. The songs are practically the same as in the original film, but hearing the deep thrumming of the drums and chanting in native tongues still extends an invitation for viewers to step into the world and culture. As anyone who has listened to the Hamilton and Encanto soundtracks can attest, the songs have a distinct Lin-Manuel Miranda quality: catchy choruses, recurring motifs, wordy verses with lots of exposition dumping. These combine to a soundtrack that still bears Disney’s quality and storytelling panache while eschewing the sort of showtunesy, sanitized sonic template that kids’ entertainment and Disney movies tend to have.
One improvement on the soundtrack is that Miranda is no longer singing his own songs. That may sound like blasphemy to some, and as a Hamilton stan who listens to the soundtrack many times a year, I get it. But while I think Miranda is a genius composer and lyricist, the fuller, deeper voices of singers like John Tui sound much better and fit more naturally into the world than Miranda’s reedy, nasally voice.
But if, like me, you can’t stand the “Shiny” song, this version isn’t any better. Some of Jemaine Clement’s new line deliveries in the new version of the song are actually worse. You have been warned. You’re welcome.
So, final verdict. In terms of story and the adaptation of the animated visuals to a live-action format, Thomas Kail’s Moana offers nothing distinct that justifies its existence. It’s still a fun watch and not a bad movie at all. I think the animated version is the superior film, but I suspect that which version future audiences prefer may depend on which version they’re introduced to first.
Yet on the other hand, for celebrating the vibrancy of Polynesian culture, for highlighting a minority ethnic group on screen as heroes and as normal people and for displaying body types other than the jacked action hero or the skinny, dainty model as natural, Kail’s Moana does what so many other films don’t seem to have the guts to do. And that’s not even touching on Laga’aia’s stellar singing and acting. Call me woke, but in a cultural and political climate where brown skin and ethnic expression are actively demonized, that’s something that deserves to be recognized and applauded. Positive representation in the media matters, and films like Moana need to exist now more than ever.
If reading this helped or swayed you one way or the other into seeing Moana in theatres, again, what can I say except, “You’re welcome!”
Muses of Media 
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