‘Mufasa: The Lion King’ Review: Barry Jenkins Can’t Quite Save Disney’s Scattered Prequel
A noticeable uneasiness burdens Mufasa: The Lion King, the most recent artifact of Disney’s avaricious intellectual property mining. The bemoaned follow-up to Jon Favreau’s condemned 2019 live-action remake of the beloved 1994 film, Mufasa probes the principled lion’s biography and explains his lethal feud with his brother Scar. But the Barry Jenkins-directed project is mostly a site of strained encounters between a visionary helmer and his corporate shareholders.
This kind of confrontation is familiar. In a cinematic landscape laden with diluted IP projects, Jenkins is hardly the first filmmaker working as a cog in a billion-dollar machine. With a clear profit motive, Disney has dedicated itself to supplanting their 2D animation catalog with “live-action” remakes, sequels and prequels. While a few have found mild success with audiences, most have been fairly rejected on grounds of pointlessness. These movies, which are being churned out at a dizzying clip, are mostly exercises in risk aversion.
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The 2019 version of The Lion King, with its almost photorealistic animals and scene-by-scene resemblance to the 1994 blockbuster, is one of the more egregious examples of Disney’s craven modus operandi. It offered little beyond a runway for more Pride Lands franchising. Recall the crucial moment when Scar, newly self-appointed ruler of the savanna territory, summons the widowed Sarabi for a chat. “Long ago, you chose Mufasa over me,” the slippery apex predator (Chiwetel Ejiofor) says to the noble lioness (Alfre Woodward). Their conversations hints at a complicated history, a past that left Scar embittered and Sarabi enraged.
Mufasa advances this lore. Working from Jeff Nathanson’s screenplay, Jenkins tries to allay a clunky narrative with his intimate and considered style. There are instances where you can see the director experimenting and attempting to disturb Disney’s imposing order, deploying close-ups, almost ground-level pans and strategically sweeping views to find warmth and tactility within a cold technique. Though the film, which critics in New York watched in IMAX 3D, isn’t completely saved by Jenkins and his team of regular co-conspirators (including producer Adele Romanski, DP James Laxton and editor Joi McMillon), it’s certainly made better by their efforts.
An early title card commemorating James Earl Jones, who died in September at age 93 and whose sonorous voice dignified and shaped the character of Mufasa for generations of Lion King fans, strikes a tender chord. Additionally, strong voice work from a cast that includes franchise newcomers Aaron Pierre, Kelvin Harrison Jr., Tiffany Boone and Mads Mikkelsen add a charming layer to a picture that comes off confused in its messaging.
Mufasa opens in the stilted aftermath of the 2019 movie (also written by Nathanson). As a storm approaches the kingdom, Nala (Beyoncé Knowles-Carter) prepares to give birth. Rushing to be by her side, Simba (Donald Glover) tasks Pumbaa (Seth Rogan) and Timon (Billy Eichner) to watch his eldest daughter, Kiara (Blue Ivy Carter). A rash of reasons are provided for this arrangement, but none of it matters, really. All of this is a muddled set up for Rafiki (John Kani) to tell Kiara the story of her grandfather, Mufasa.
The mandrill’s tale starts with a young Mufasa (Braelyn Rankins) and a flood that violently separates him from his parents. In an image that recalls a baby Moses bobbing down the Nile, the cub finds himself floating in a river without kin. His savior is Taka (voiced, as a cub, by Theo Somolu), a high-spirited prince who saves him from a pair of hungry alligators. The two form a fast and endearing bond, with Taka admitting, more than once, that he’s always wanted a brother.
Taka’s parents are divided on the matter of Mufasa. His mother Eshe (Thandiwe Newton) wants to help the orphan, while his father Obasi (Lennie James) turns his nose up at “the stray.” Although Mufasa eventually integrates into the pride after a fateful race against Taka, Obasi never fully accepts him, ordering him to hang out with the female lions. That arrangement turns out to be beneficial. Mufasa learns how to hunt and, in the manner of most Disney heroes, reveals a gifted connection with nature. His sharp nose and quick wit allow him to identify the faintest smells and deftly track both predators and prey.
This compromise works for a few years, and Jenkins stages a graceful transition as the cubs grow into young lions. Singing Lin-Manuel Miranda’s original songs — competent if not necessarily enduring — Mufasa (now voiced by Pierre) and Taka (Harrison Jr.) demonstrate a mutual respect for and commitment to one another. Some of the more affecting moments take place in this formative stage. Jenkins emphasizes the pair’s intimacy with close-up shots of their expressive faces and their bodies while playfully jostling or conspiring to prank the adults. Pierre and Harrison Jr.’s natural chemistry shines in these scenes, which helps smooth out some of the bulkier bits of exposition in the screenplay.
But after the brothers’ formative years, the pacing in Mufasa becomes choppier and less coherent. Part of that can be attributed to an overstuffed narrative. Nathanson plumps the story with platitudes and moments that could lead to, well, more franchising. In their young adult years, Mufasa and Taka find their courage and loyalty tested when a group of white lions encroach upon the pride. The origin of these “Others/Outsiders,” as they are repeatedly referred to throughout the film, is not expounded upon. But after the prince of the white lion pride dies in a battle between Mufasa and Eshe, Kiros (Mikkelsen), their king, seeks revenge.
In order to protect the royal lineage, Obasi orders Mufasa and Taka to abandon the pride and run away together. He also makes Mufasa vow never to abandon Taka, to always take care of his brother. The young lions set off, beginning their journey to find Milele, an Edenesque promised land where they might harbor safely and start a new kingdom. As they run from the white lions, they meet Sarabi (Boone), as well as her guide bird Zazu (Preston Nyman) and a young Rafiki (Kagiso Lediga).
With a solid gang, Mufasa conforms to a typical journey of misfits. But that charm from the early scenes is lost with the addition of each new plot point. There’s a predictable love triangle, the betrayal that explains the corrosive relationship between the lion brothers and Biblical undertones that cast and recast the roles of Adam and Eve as well as Cain and Abel.
It’s a shame that Sarabi, positioned as a key figure in this ragtag group, doesn’t get the robust treatment that she deserves. There isn’t even a solo song for her, which might have given us a sense of her interiority. Similarly, Taka’s evolution, which is telegraphed early and often, lands with a thud more than a bang. Considering who his character becomes to the franchise, this part of the origin story is particularly disappointing.
As Mufasa and Taka near this promised land, their relationship competes for attention with the vaguely populist thread that begins to emerge. Points about the people’s power and uniting against potentially fascist forces don’t land with the expected potency, however, because the franchise has been built from the start on a nonsensical justification for monarchy. Mufasa nevertheless remains committed to that inconsistency — and as it barrels toward an end, inspires questions more than it gives answers.
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