Encanto

I fucking love Encanto. I do not like half of its soundtrack. Lin-Manuel Miranda and I have never quite gelled, and that doesn’t change when his music is attached to an otherwise excellent film. “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” is one of my karaoke go-tos, but otherwise I find most of Encanto’s music either plagued by Miranda’s usual grating sing-talky style or just dreadfully dull compared to that of most Disney movies. With that giant boulder pushed out of the way, Encanto is probably the best exploration of the generational trauma modern Disney has become synonymous with. It follows the Madrigal family, who have been gifted superhuman powers with which to aid their community. Those powers also come with the great weight of expectation from heroine Mirabel’s grandmother, who has been the matriarchal backbone of the family since she escaped a war-torn Colombia with her children. Encanto portrays a family fractured by expectations with a great deal of empathy for each generation. It’s cathartic to see younger generations finally find the courage to advocate for themselves after years of being held to an unreachable standard, and Encanto shows that, within reason, even the most fractured connections can be repaired.