Review: Encanto’s Magical Realism Casts More than a Representational Spell

With a voice cast of mostly Latino actors and animated characters covering the full spectrum of brown skin tones, Jared Bush, Byron Howard, and Charise Castro-Smith’s Encanto certainly earns all of the points that its shooting for in terms of representation. But it’s through its clever utilization of magical realism that the film brings a vibrant and distinctly South American flavor to what could have otherwise been just another run-of-the-mill entry in Disney’s beyond-crowded canon of stories, both animated and live action, about teenage outcasts and the families that simply don’t understand them.

Written by Bush, Castro-Smith, and Lin-Manuel Miranda, the spirited Encanto taps into the mythologies and customs of traditional Colombian society without pandering to audiences unfamiliar with them. That’s evident in the living house that brings musical rhythm and visual dynamism to many of the film’s musical numbers, the presence of yellow butterflies (a favorite motif of Gabriel García Márquez), and the physical comedy that arises from the various magical powers that nearly every member of the Madrigal family comes to possess.

The film does falter in its initial setup, where flashbacks show a ruthless group of invaders on horseback attacking villagers, ultimately killing the young husband of Abuela Alma Madrigal (María Cecilia Botero), the matriarch of the Madrigal clan. It’s a reference to the effects of colonialism, but it’s so briefly and vaguely conveyed, with the villains kept completely hidden in the shadows, that this evil and the totality of what led to the future isolationism and self-sufficiency of the village of Encanto don’t pack much thematic weight.

If Encanto fails to adequately grapple with, or even explain, the harsh conditions that led to the rise of the Madrigal clan—whose members were all, until recently, granted a magical power from an enchanted, ever-burning candle—the fable of family strength and unity that follows unfolds with more nuance. While Abuela is the head and heart of this clan, Encanto follows the teenage Mirabel (Stephanie Beatriz), the only member of her family who hasn’t been bestowed with a unique power, as she struggles to come to terms with her relative ordinariness.

Unlike the teen protagonists of many modern American animated films, Mirabel is self-assured rather than moody. And she remains determined to find ways to be helpful even when she gets in the way of her various family members—among them her shapeshifting cousin Camilo (Rhenzy Feliz) and older sisters, Luisa (Jessica Darrow), who possesses superhuman strength, and the all-too-perfect Isabella (Diane Guerrero), who can make plants grow and flowers bloom, as well as constantly butts heads with her equally stubborn youngest sister.

For a time, the vivacious Madrigals appear to be an idealized vision of Latino culture. But as the storyline of Alma’s son Bruno (John Leguizamo), who was banished from the titular village years prior, comes to the forefront, it becomes clearer that Encanto is interested in more than simply celebrating cultural exceptionalism. The accepted social contract that “We don’t talk about Bruno” (which one of the soundtrack’s more pedestrian songs recounts in detail) hints at the cracks that have already surfaced in the Madrigals’ otherwise unblemished image as protectors of their remote community, and there’s only more to come.

As Mirabel begins to see visions of literal cracks developing in the house, none of her family members believe her. When she begins investigating this phenomena and eventually reconnects with Bruno, Encanto peers beneath the cheerful, happy-go-lucky demeanor of the Madrigals to find hidden vulnerabilities and inner struggles that their powers have allowed or, in some cases, forced them to mask. The fanciful, whistle-while-you-work mentality that’s initially presented not only as a defining trait of the family, but a source of their joy and pride, ultimately reveals itself to be something, if not darker, then at least more complicated.

Encanto doesn’t steer away from the inevitable happy ending one expects from most animated films geared toward children, but it subverts expectations by bringing humanity to even its most flawed characters. The film’s handling of Isabella, a close variant of the traditional Disney princess, is particularly canny in how it exposes the gulf between her actions and her desires. And although Encanto’s resolution is wrapped up a bit too quickly and cleanly, it does a fine job of conveying not only the familiar message of the importance of family, but the notion that even in the best families, it can take considerable work to keep them together.