(IMAGE: Walt Disney Company)
Disney+. 2021. Shorts program. 83 minutes.
RATING: 3 / 4
Owing to its long and at times openly bigoted history as a narrative filmmaking company, Disney became an early pioneer of woke. Initial attempts at rectifying the checkered history of Disney animation through multiculturalist frameworks have survived long enough to be viewed as problematic today. But in their moment, movies like POCAHONTAS (1995) and MULAN (1998) gave parents new ways to address important issues, including interracial relationships; the tortured history of colonialism and its impact on the indigenous peoples of the Americas; and gender non-conformity, taking the corporate legacy of the Mouse House a long way from the “magical negro”-isms of Uncle Remus, or that notorious slur in song “What Makes the Red Man Red” from PETER PAN. Even in Walt Disney’s era, Disney gave the world the well-intentioned if simple-minded internationalism of “It’s a Small World After All,” if for no other reason than to make Disneyland’s international attendees feel more welcome in the Eurocentric confines of the Happiest Place on Earth.
One of the more generous and forward looking initiatives born from the insatiable content demands of streaming behemoth Disney+ marks an advancement in Disney’s attempts to give voice to a fuller range of human perspectives. It’s called Disney LAUNCHPAD, a short film program created to fund and uncover burgeoning young talent from what in Disney terms are historically underrepresented populations.
The first cycle of LAUNCHPAD projects is about to debut, and the six produced shorts easily justify Disney’s ambitions for an enterprise that is simultaneously community outreach and a gameplan for reinvigorating the corporate talent pool, which grows more and more dependent on multicultural fluency as Disney+ expands its global footprint over time.
Writer/director Aqsa Altaf’s “American Eid” is an astutely observed coming of age story about assimilation in which two immigrant Pakistani girls—prepubescent Ameena and teenage Zainab—spend their first Eid holiday in America. For Ameena, her middle school’s failure to accommodate Eid, which celebrates the end of Ramadan, is an injustice that needs redress. Inspired by a lesson on Shirley Chisolm, she launches a petition drive to make Eid more accepted. This causes a clash with Zainab, who is grappling with her newly Americanized identity by altering her wardrobe, shortening her name to “Z” and hiding her Muslim heritage in every way she can. Altaf’s eye for suburban detail is as developed as Spielberg’s was in the 1980s, and “American Eid’s” trajectory of acceptance and reconciliation skirts the maudlin because it has the feel of lived experience in it, especially when Altaf delineates Zainab’s confusion and pain.
A darker and more intricate look at identity is student Academy Award winning filmmaker Hao Zheng’s portrait of a striver “Dinner is Served.” Chinese-born Xiaoyu is an international student at a prominent (fictional) American boarding school in the mold of Phillips Exeter Academy. Xiaoyu supports himself as a dishwasher for the school’s formal dining room, but he dreams of taking over the glamorous and tuxedoed Maitre D’ post, which is about to open up as suave upperclassman Allen moves on to his first year at Yale. Fueled by a superb and layered performance by actor Qi Sun as Xiaoyu and with an elegant and assured shot design courtesy of cinematographer Zilong Liu “Dinner is Served” explores unexpected gray areas in its underdog narrative, ending on a note of personal actualization more troubled and costlier than the destination Xiaoyu seemed headed for.
The LAUNCHPAD palette cleanser is provided by Mexican-American writer/director Ann Marie Pace, a DGA student film award winner whose detailed and hilarious take on the vampire mythos is rich enough to support a Disney channel series. Like teenaged monster movies going back as far as I WAS A TEENAGE WEREWOLF (1957), “Growing Fangs” explores the mysterious and terrifying metamorphoses of puberty through the even more monstrous transformations of classic horror. As gender non-binary half-vampire Val, the doe-eyed and deadpan Keyla Monterroso Majia moves easily between earnest teen heartache and Pace’s farcical send-ups of monster lore, all filtered through an affectionate take on Hispanic family life. The “Monster High” Val attends should delight fans of the old Disney Channel HALLOWEENTOWN movies.
Writer/director Stefanie Abel Horowitz departs from the ethnographic imperative of her LAUNCHPAD classmates and embraces the smallness of the short format with a graceful snapshot of grief and healing called “Let’s Be Tigers.” Essentially a two-hander between a babysitter in mourning and the joyous toddler she takes care of, the film features nuanced interplay between babysitter Otmara Marrero and tiny powerhouse Dash McCloud. Horowitz eschews the resume stuffing indulgences that at times flourish elsewhere in this ambitious program in favor of character-driven interplay, and her handling of her actors is flawless.
A sly parable about cultural erasure, Jessica Mendez Siqueiros’ “The Last of Chupacabras” finds last-of-the-puschart-tamale-sellers Melba Martinez accidentally summoning a mythical Chupacabra—a kind of livestock vampire from the lore of the Americas–during an L.A. Earthquake. But a monster movie this isn’t. Thanks in large part to the giddy and joyful interplay between the elderly Martinez and a marionette monster with a broad visual similarity to the cartoon space creature from LILO AND STITCH, “Chupacabras” becomes a comic portrait of an aged Mexican-American woman reconnecting with the power of heritage. Siquieros and cinematographer Meena Singh favor the flatspace compositions of Wes Anderson and Ed Lachman, lending a storybook feel to this urban fairytale.
The first run of LAUNCHPAD shorts culminates with non-binary writer/director Moxie Peng’s “The Little Prince(ss),” a thought-provoking look at anti-LGBTQ prejudice within Chinese-American culture. Gabriel is a cheerful and extroverted public school first grade boy who likes ballet, the color pink and playing with dolls. His favorite movie appears to be the animated version of MULAN, though ”The Little Prince(ss)” doesn’t dwell on this detail except as a blurred screen in a living room so it’s hard to be sure. When Gabriel meets second grade transfer Rob, there’s an instant bond—partly because both boys are ethnically Chinese, but mainly because the two genuinely like and accept each other, with an ease only childhood innocence and need can provide. But Rob’s dad is a bigot, who believes boys should be macho, and Gabriel’s impact on his son inflames all his prejudices, which come to a head in a wrenching confrontation when Rob makes a doll for Gabriel that depicts Gabriel as a girl.
Beautifully shot by director of photography Marcus Patterson and featuring a delightful central performance from Kalo Moss as Gabriel, “The
Little Prince(ss)” suffers at times from the precocity syndrome, with Gabriel speaking about himself in terms that at times seem to be beyond his young years. But as a dramatization of the prejudices pre-sexual gender dysphoric children and their parents face, “The Little Prince(ss)” offers both a moving viewing experience and a marvelous and child-ready teaching tool. Like every film in this series, Peng’s story is a teachable moment waiting to be unwrapped by the gigantic Disney + subscriber base.
Diversity has never been such a good time.
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