ELEMENTAL

"There's a word in Fireish. Deshlock. It means embrace the light when it burns because it won't always last forever." - Ember Lumen

Ill-fated lovers from opposing socio-economic backgrounds shouldering the weight of generational pressures… a tale as old as time. Disney spent almost 100 years pigeon-holding themselves as the gatekeepers of creativity in the world of animation. Their subsidiary Pixar helped the company’s liberation from their typical atavistic princess-in-distress linearity. With triumphant works such as Toy Story, Up and Inside Out, Pixar’s out-of-the-box narrative stamp expanded Disney’s feel-good guarantee with a relatable and contemporary sparkle that prophesied a home run with each release… or so the general public thought. With the exception of Encanto, the last few years have suggested a creative decay within the imagination of the omnipotent Disney machine. Plagued with mediocre writing, unimaginative narrative tropes, and obtusely recycled characters, this year’s Elemental continues the streak of magic-less Disney productions. The curse of predictability and hollowness is making us wish upon a star that this trajectory is just a blip and not a downward spiral into cinematic mediocrity.

Elemental presents an enticing world where all four elements–earth, air, wind, water–cohabitate a New York-esque metropolis called Element City. Each element corporeally represents a different social class giving way to an allegorical iteration of xenophobia and racial disparities as pillars of narrative conflict. The city’s infrastructure suggests an obvious mistake . Cushy water elements lap in the convenience of smoothly designed water-ways. Air elements pile onto blimp inspired taxis. Earth elements seemingly adjust to water’s monorail system despite their airtime being very minimal, possibly representing bottom tier societal status, or maybe just a writing oversight. Water basks in their sleek high rises filled with posh, futuristic designs with pools of translucent water filling the space from the lights around the city. Never appropriately detailed, air and earth homes are seen scarcely throughout the film and whether high or middle class, earth, air, and water were the only elements the city considered residents, leaving fire to their own devices in the outskirts of the city and subject to disparity by the other three elements.

Fire elements Bernie and Cinder Lumen, along with their ill-tempered daughter Ember, immigrate to the outskirts of the city and establish a family owned convenience store. Disney pulls out all the stops in their depiction of immigrant communities in their newfound favela inspired Firetown: emphasis on cultural tradition, tight-knit communities, terms of endearment in their Fireland mother-tongue, and crippling familial pressure to respect parental sacrifices. Regardless of intentions to highlight underprivileged communities and their struggles, this thematic undercurrent feels slightly tone-deaf and half-baked; check-lists were made and righteously completed in the name of pandering social acceptance. Elemental’s stance on social politics holds weight practically but falters imaginatively. Disney’s past successes really triumph in the realm of controversial topics while maintaining a creative voice. Elemental struggles with cultural dissonance that dissolves the Disney magic. With subject matter as timely as this, viewers want subjective cognizance. Spoon-feeding opinionated themes produces less desirable outcomes than subtle guidance to the same result.

As her father’s dutiful Bodega assistant, Ember struggles with corporate assimilation due to her temper and the pressure to take over her father’s shop. One day, Ember’s emotional outbursts reach an all-time high as she explodes in a fit of rage, bursting the water pipes in their basement and unintentionally dragging city inspector Wade into the mix. Wade, an overwhelmingly emotional water element, inspects the leaking canal system that is currently destroying Ember’s basement and could result in further catastrophic consequences for all of Firetown. The stereotypical starkness of both elements feels like a missed opportunity. Of course the assumption that a feeble water element crying uncontrollably and an emotionally unregulated fire element makes sense, but why not try to lean into something less predictable and more creative? Would Earth elements be grounded and air elements be air-headed? How lazy. The two form a team when tasked with containing the leak, because an inept city inspector and an emotional kamikaze are definitely the two qualified for fixing a problem that could destroy the city. But Ember was told if she could fix the problem, her family could keep their code-breaking bodega. So sure–for the sake of narrative exposition, we’ll allow it.

As the film trudges on, an ‘unlikely’ romance buds between the two, damped by Disney cliches and narrative plot holes. Metaphors about interracial/intercultural relationships clog the runtime. Pragmatically and chemically water and fire don’t mix, and Wade and Ember are aware of the scientific consequence of their physical interaction. Disney’s bread and butter is their ability to make unique and likable characters (at least ones the audience find easy to root for). Ember–and especially Wade–miss the mark. The film struggles to find common ground between the two and establishes minimal emotional connectedness despite their obvious anatomic makeup. Wade’s indecisive wavering and Ember’s sharp brashness make the perfect “opposites attract” storyline, and while the scantily set-up for such is there, the follow-through finds itself lost in Wade’s unrelenting waves of tears and Ember’s dramatic, flaming melt-downs.

Fire’s symbiotic existence within Element City drives the confusing narrative, illustrated in Ember’s inability to visit the city’s ethereal Vivisteria flowers regardless of the plants ability to thrive in the presence of all four elements. Beautiful animation and explosive colors are egregiously lost in the bundle of loose strings and afterthoughts. Ember decides she actually won’t take over her fathers Bodega after an entire 2-act set up that pointed towards the contrary. The mashing of forced racial quotas and recycled lovers-from-different-worlds trope brings a fundamentally one-dimensional tonal travesty that smears the animators’ phenomenal job. When Ember and Wade finally seal their love with a kiss and the water pipe fiasco reaches a boiling point, Act 3 sizzles down to an anti-climatic finish devoid of any emotional resonance or sensical conclusion.

Elemental at best is a cacophony of stunning layered visuals and at worst a haphazard, fragmented story supporting a ridiculous amount of tangential storylines. Conceptually, all the pieces are there, but something happens during the transition from drawing board to finished product. With Marvel, Disney+ and live action remakes, Disney’s resources might be stretched too thin, leaving Pixar and their animation studios by the wayside. After this unfinished and questionable love match, Disney writers and higher-ups need to revamp their happily-ever-after formulas to match the animators’ spectacular creativity and originality.