Italian
Early in “The Lion King,” the adorable yet spoiled African prince Simba goes gallivanting around his father Mufasa’s lands, taunting his future subjects with the song “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King.” In Broadway terms, it’s a classic “I want” number, telling audiences what’s in the character’s heart at that point in the film, before tragedy, exile, love and responsibility shape this carefree cub into a worthy successor.
Flash forward to “Mufasa: The Lion King”¬¬ — or rewind, since “Moonlight” director Barry Jenkins’ impressive, emotionally satisfying contribution to the Disney canon serves as a prequel to one of the studio’s most beloved franchises — and we find Mufasa in a very different mindset. Faster than you can say “little orphan Bambi,” this once and future king loses his parents in a dramatic flood, one that washes him far from home and into the lands of an altogether different pride. There, he’s not seen as royalty, but rather as an “outsider” and a threat to the existing hierarchy.
King Obasi (Lennie James) and his son Taka (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) needn’t be concerned, as the exhausted new arrival has no such ambitions. If young Mufasa had a solo, it might be called “Being King Is the Last Thing I Want,” which turns out to be the quality that will make him such a good one when the time comes.
Popular on Variety Presented in a more stylized — but in no way “cartoony” — approach than director Jon Favreau’s 2019 “Lion King” remake, Jenkins’ “Mufasa” deepens our understanding of and appreciation for the noble father figure who once bellowed, “Remember who you are,” in the reassuring baritone of James Earl Jones. (The film opens with a dedication to the great “The Great White Hope” star, who died in September.)
Here, Mufasa is embodied by Braelyn Rankins as a cub, later followed by Aaron Pierre in juvenile form. Neither voice can really compete with Jones’, but how could we expect them to? Mufasa is hardly the sage old leader at this point, as Jenkins and returning screenwriter Jeff Nathanson imagine him in a more humble — yet instinctively heroic — mold, which means the actors must convey a degree of uncertainty nowhere to be found in Jones’ performance.
Rather than fix what ain’t broke, the film opens with another “Circle of Life”-style sequence, as dozens of species gather to celebrate the presentation of Simba’s firstborn, Kiara (played by Beyoncé’s daughter Blue Ivy Carter), who will almost surely get a feature of her own one day. In that sense, “Mufasa” is doing double duty, providing rich emotional context for the original story while paving the way for future sequels.
Starting in the present allows Jenkins to bring back Simba’s uncouth sidekicks, Timon (Billy Eichner) and Pumbaa (Seth Rogen), while simian shaman Rafiki serves as narrator. The all-knowing, vaguely Yoda-like mandrill’s tale begins in the past, long before he meets Mufasa, while Timon and Pumbaa cut in at regular intervals to provide comic relief. The irksome pair making strangely self-aware cracks about corporate lawyers, script notes and a certain hit song they assume everyone’s sick of by now (though only Disney employees and carpool-karaoke-ing parents feel that way toward a tune slightly tweaked as “Hakuna Mufasa” here).
The framing device feels like a mistake, serving mostly to delay and interrupt the main attraction, which is Mufasa’s origin story. Before losing his parents, Mufasa learns of a paradise called Malele, which will become the destination of a cross-continental journey to find a new home. But first, he must win over a whole bunch of characters, both familiar and new, starting with a cub his age named Taka (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), who’s next in line to be king in the land where he washes ashore.
Moments after they meet, Taka saves Mufasa’s life, digging his claws into the endangered whelp’s paws and tossing him to safety, thereby earning a pledge of eternal loyalty from the outsider. Meanwhile, Taka’s father, Obasi (Lennie James), looks upon Mufasa with suspicion, ordering him to live among the lionesses — a setback to the two cubs, who see one another as the siblings they never had. Cue the movie’s “I want” song: “I Always Wanted a Brother.”
That’s a very different dynamic from only-child Simba’s upbringing, and one that lends “Mufasa” a fresh dimension to explore. The “Lion King” movies (including the Kiara-focused “The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride”) rely heavily on the idea of destiny. We all know Mufasa’s fate, and we can anticipate Taka’s (Timon and Pumbaa make running guesses as to who that character will become), though the big reveal still managed to shock the kid sitting in front of me. Although the plot of “Mufasa” functions on its own merits, Nathanson cleverly connects this new narrative to characters and details from the original movie.
Full of inside references, the script introduces Simba’s mother, Sarabi (Tiffany Boone), as a gifted huntress, reveals baobab-dwelling Rafiki’s roots and even goes so far as to show the formation of Pride Rock. As with “Wicked” (the second act of which plugs characters from Part One into the classic “Wizard of Oz” we all know) or “National Treasure” (with its fictional explanation for how the Liberty Bell was cracked), each connection to preexisting IP tickles audiences — the more unpredictable, the better.
Recent Disney films have sought to find alternatives to traditional villains, even doing away with them altogether in “Encanto” and “Raya and the Last Dragon.” Not so “Mufasa,” which follows the lead set by Scar, introducing the vicious Kiros (Mads Mikkelsen), head of the pack of outsider “white lions” (read into that what you will) on whom Obasi’s fears were based. Jenkins’ film can be alarmingly violent at times, although the PG rating presumably explains why every death occurs off-screen.
It’s a massive understatement to call “Mufasa” an unlikely follow-up to Jenkins’ past work (the scope of which expanded considerably with Prime miniseries “The Underground Railroad”), and yet, the helmer’s creative and cultural integrity remains clear in nearly every choice. Jenkins has not sold out; rather, the studio bought into his vision, which respects the 1994 film and recognizes the significance that its role models and life lessons have served for young audiences.
And yet, it’s hard not to watch the technically impressive but uncannily computer-animated characters without wishing that Jenkins had insisted upon using the hand-drawn technique that made the original so appealing, rather than refining Favreau’s faux-live-action approach. In the 2019 film, every shot was designed to look photoreal, like a Richard Attenborough-style nature documentary. Jenkins calls for far more nuance and expressivity in the virtual animals’ facial performances, which helps us identify with their emotions, even as it pushes the characters toward the uncanny valley — especially when they speak or open their mouths to sing. (See “Mufasa” in stereoscopic 3D if at all possible, as it fixes the relatively fake-looking effect of traditional projection. Although animation is eternal, I fear this style will not age well.)
Whereas Elton John’s music translated brilliantly to Broadway, the studio has since moved away from traditional show tunes in favor of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s motormouthed lyricism (listen to how the “Hamilton” creator compresses the words “no other animal” in the first line of the sibling song). Still, Miranda’s talents remain an odd match for Disney, leaving Lebo M — a vocalist from the first movie — to elevate the soundtrack once again, reinforcing the connection to Zulu rhythms and chants.
Though Disney submitted the aforementioned duets for Oscar consideration, the best song is an ensemble number, “We Go Together,” drawn from a supposed African aphorism: “If you want to go fast, go alone; but if you want to go far …” At nearly every step, Mufasa’s challenges mirror those that Simba must later overcome, but the movie doesn’t celebrate Mufasa’s might so much as his modesty. Where his believe-in-yourself wisdom powered the original film, now he preaches a timely new lesson: strength in numbers and respect for one’s subjects.
