“Let her come to me”: Opening the Ocean in Disney’s Moana

Moana (Ron Clements & John Musker, 2016).

Since its DVD release, Moana (Ron Clements & John Musker 2016) has carved a home in my heart. When I’m not re-watching it captivated and in love with its artistry, I’ll watch it thinking about the voyage Disney takes into Polynesian histories and the representation of culture which, although efforts were made through the formation of the Oceanic Story Trust to depict authentic Polynesian cultures, often falls short – as one indigenous rights advocate puts: “having brown advisers doesn’t make it a brown story” (Ngata, 2016). Or, perhaps, the way in which the film challenges the moral binaries that audiences may associate with the Disney catalogue of films, and how I find myself lost in the beauty and artistry of the animators who crafted the ocean as an anthropomorphic being, capable of thinking and feeling. Moana tells the story of the titular protagonist who, since she was young, has had a special relationship with the ocean; one characterised by her curiosity and its playfulness. As a toddler, the ocean revealed to her the heart of Te Fiti, and for years it has been kept safe by her Gramma Tala. Now sixteen, when a life-sucking darkness threatens her island, Moana defies the rules of her people and sails beyond the reef on a daring mission to save her home. Having crossed the ocean in a small canoe, she arrives expecting to find Te Fiti, the goddess to whom she must return the heart. However, all she finds is the space Te Fiti once lay, and Te Kā: a demon of earth and fire. This blog post analyses the sequence from the film following Moana’s realisation that Te Kā is Te Fiti, and the ocean opens to make a path for the pair to meet. Through a comparison to DreamWorks 1998 film The Prince of Egypt (Brenda Chapman, Steve Hickner & Simon Wells), I examine the way in which the redemption of Te Fiti (and by extension, the population of Motunui) is depicted, particularly in how the narratives are secured within the bounds of possibility, and thereby their more fantastical elements are demoted. I also consider how the ocean in the film seeks to protect Moana, thereby potentially undermining her reputation as an independent young woman.

Fig. 1 - "Let her come to me": Moana commands the ocean to make a way for her and Te Kā to meet.

The ocean – and indeed water imagery more broadly – has long held connotative meanings of calm and peace, amid holding wider the symbolic meaning of life itself (see Stokowski, 2009).[1] It comes as no surprise, therefore, that the ocean in Moana, with its ability to neutralise the threat of the lava, is the peacekeeper between Moana and Te Kā. As an almost central character throughout the film, the ocean’s life and vitality in the sequence is realised in the electric blue tones surfacing as it parts, making a way for Te Kā and Moana to meet (Fig. 1). The colouring of the walls of water that form do more than sustain the accompanying white-water and sense of realism invoked by this sequence. The contrast of colours – from the white, bright ocean at the top of the walls compared to the darker blues and dirtiness of the ocean floor – also introduce us to the dialectic (that is, the acceptance of two seemingly opposing ideas at the same time) between good and bad that exists within all of us and importantly, our protagonist. In this way, these colours lining the walls of the trench through which Moana will walk foreshadow her own identification with Te Kā.

Moana’s request for the ocean to part, allowing her to come face-to-face with Te Kā, is a brave one, although as Madeline Streiff and Lauren Dundes point out, does not require any particular cleverness (2017, 8). Yet the ocean doesn’t let Moana walk into this redemptive moment alone. Although the film has been praised for its feminist spirit (see Khandelwal, 2016; Yamato, 2016), Moana has never been the sole heroine: “the ocean is a friend of [hers]” (33:10–33:13). The ocean has been an omnipresent protective factor and source of help throughout the film, and in some ways, this undermines the image of Moana as an independent young woman.[2] The walls of water that form (following Moana’s command) and surround the ocean floor trench further accentuate the idea that she must be shielded from harm. The ocean, working to the aegis of Moana’s protection, introduces a dichotomy between Moana shaping her own future and not needing any man (i.e. Maui) to save the day, and that of Moana still being overseen and guarded by the ocean that she won’t come to any harm.

Redemption

The redemptive imagery of the parting the ocean to form a path to restoration in Moana is fully realised when compared to a similar sequence from DreamWorks’ 1998 feature film The Prince of Egypt. The Prince of Egypt is a dramatic adaptation of the Old Testament Book of Exodus, which tells the story of Moses and his calling by God to deliver the Israelites out from under the hand of Egyptian slavery. Visually – as well as narratively – there are many moments of similarity between the two films, but here I will concentrate on the moments in which Moses leads his people to safety by crossing the red sea to escape the pursuing Egyptian army (Fig. 2).

Fig. 2 - Scene from DreamWorks Prince of Egypt in which Moses parts the red sea.

Both Moses and Moana walk through the now-opened ocean, surrounded by walls of water to save their people, and fulfil their own respective prophecies. Yet a major difference lies in the power by which the ocean moves. In Prince of Egypt it is Moses, with the power of God working through him, that causes the ocean to open, whereas in Moana we see the “ocean as an anthropomorphised, vast natural element” (Julius & Malone 2016, 70) with personality, thoughts and emotion; able to listen, respond and move freely. Therefore, in creating the ocean as a character (in Moana), it reflects a sense of being alive, rather than being moved (as in The Prince of Egypt). To achieve this sense of aliveness, animators of Moana captured this using art-directed flows (Frost et al. 2017, 2). This method of computer animation allowed for the simulation of the water walls to retain their dynamism and naturalism, ensuring that the ocean, despite its actions, did not appear fake.

The importance of the parallel to the parting of the red sea in the DreamWorks film is revealed when we acknowledge Moana’s more fantastical elements. However, within the realm of what is real, the ocean should not be able move in that anthropomorphic way. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that the moment where the ocean opens to form a path to restoration is undermined when taken out of its own fictional reality. Still, the ocean defies what is probable while remaining grounded in what is possible. In other words, opening the ocean isn’t a far-off dream and it is not so much a question of is this likely to happen, but instead could this happen? Thus, the beginning of this redemptive sequence in Moana opens up a space of possibility and roots itself in an story in which, if it happened once, it could happen again.[3] Considering that at this point the heart of Te Fiti is yet to be restored, the opening of the ocean offers a sense of hope (and almost knowledge) that there will be restoration even if it has not been achieved yet.

The ties to ancient histories in Moana further accentuate the ancient Polynesian mythology laced throughout in the film. Thus, the film engages with time-honoured stories that serves to preserve the restorative story arch spanning the entirety of the film, thereby crafting redemption as not just necessary but possible. The anthropomorphised character of the ocean holds deeply symbolic meanings – such as those associated with life and life-giving power – reinforcing the redemption narrative and parallels to the exodus as dramatized in The Prince of Egypt. Further, the ocean undermines the interpretation of Moana as an entirely independent young woman, as well as assuming the peacekeeper role while establishing the contention between good and evil. In this way, the ocean opening negotiates the overarching theme of redemption and restoration alongside a continued trend towards more complex gender and moral representations that serves as the crux for a continuing discussion in relation to Disney’s animated films.

**Article published: October 8, 2021**

Notes

[1] It is worth noting that in addition to these connotations of the ocean, there also a gendered element at play. Valerie Estelle Frankel (2019) describes the ocean as “a source of feminine power” which reinforces the aforementioned connotations by this association with traditional feminine qualities such as those of gentleness, gracefulness and sensitivity.

[2] Moana calls out “Ocean. I could use a little help. […] Come on. Help me.” and “Ocean. Do something. Help us.” at various points throughout the film. Although there is also nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it – recognising your weakness takes courage – in these moments Moana does so in what can be described as apathetic and defeated. This reliance on the ocean arguably undermines (or lessens) the view of Moana as despite her courage and strong-willed nature.

[3] I acknowledge that this space of possibility is undermined by the many other fantastical elements occurring prior to this sequence in Moana, notably the encounters with Kakamora and Tamatoa, as well as Moana and Maui’s brief trip to Lalotai (Realm of Monsters).

References

Frankel, Valerie Estelle. 2019. “Moana and Feminine Symbolism.” Medium, 28 November. https://valeriefrankel.medium.com/moana-and-feminine-symbolism-e409d48c9247

Frost, Ben, Alexey Stomakhin, and Hiroaki Narita. 2017. “Moana: Performing Water.” Paper presented at SIGGRAPH '17: Special Interest Group on Computer Graphics and Interactive Techniques Conference, Los Angeles, CA, 30 July – 3 August.

Julius, Jessica, and Maggie Malone. 2016. The Art of Moana. San Francisco: Chronicle Books.

Khandelwal, Tara. 2016. “Moana Is Disney’s Most Feminist Film.” she the people, 10 December. https://www.shethepeople.tv/news/moana-is-disneys-most-feminist-film.

Ngata, T. 2009. “Despite Claims of Authenticity, Disney’s Moana Still Offensive.” Rising Up With Sonali. 23 November. https://risingupwithsonali.com/despite-claims-of-authenticity-disneys-moana-still-offensive/

Stokowski, Patricia. 2009. “Symbolic Aspects of Water.” In Water and People: Challenges at the Interface of Symbolic and Utilitarian Values, edited by Stephen F. McCool, 19–59. Collingdale: Diane Publishing.

Streiff, Madeline, and Lauren Dundes. 2017. “From Shapeshifter to Lava Monster: Gender Stereotypes in Disney’s Moana.” Social Sciences 6, no. 3 (September): 91.

Yamato, Jen. 2016. “The Revolutionary ‘Moana’: Disney’s Most Unapologetically Feminist Princess Yet.” The Daily Beast, 23 November. https://www.thedailybeast.com/the-revolutionary-moana-disneys-most-unapologetically-feminist-princess-yet.

Biography

Charlotte Durham is a student at the University of Leeds studying towards the degree of MA in Communication and Media. Her research interests include transmedia storytelling, fandom, media psychology and Disney. You can find her on Twitter here.