Moana might not be the greatest of the Disney films but it is up there with the best.  A classic, hero/heroine quest story coupled with a truly independent and driven protagonist who solves all her own problems and isn’t dependent on the love of a prince (indeed, the love in this film is reserved for family and community).  A runaway princess who is very aware of her responsibilities and always intends to return home to fulfil those duties: it is a novel concept for a “fairy tale” film intended to sell toys and other fluffy merchandise..  In this, Disney is continuing the brilliant pro-female themes set forth in Frozen.

The truly brilliant part of the film however are the visuals.  These never dominate the process of viewing the film – you’re never distracted by the impressive nature of the water in the way you were when you watched the The Good Dinosaur – but this is something special.  I mean really special.

Take a look at the song “You’re Welcome” (featuring a surprisingly listenable vocal from The Rock).  The scenery is astonishing enough (on the big screen it can take a moment to realise you’re not seeing the real world) but its the lighting that pushed me back in my seat.

Watch it again from 2:07 onwards.  There’s some next level witchcraft on the go there.  Somehow Disney have managed to light Moana and Maui in a way that makes them more “real” than the illustrated crowd without compromising the truth that Disney preserves in all its characters: that they’re animated creations.

I feel I’m not articulating that point well enough.  Whatever.  Watch the song again, its catchy.

You’re welcome.

As a starting point for this blog, I decided to think about Selma, surprisingly not a biopic about Homer Simpson’s sexiest sister-in-law but rather a study of a crucial period in American history.  In 1963-64, leaders in the civil rights movement began a campaign in Selma, Alabama to ensure that black people were able to register to vote (a right to which they were entitled under federal legislation).  Local white politicians and officials made the registration process as complex and subjective as possible to mitigate the possibility of a block vote from the black community.  As a consequence Dr Martin Luther King, Jr and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference were asked to assist with the campaign (see more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selma_to_Montgomery_marches).  It is this pivot point that provides the plot for Selma: a study of a brief moment in Dr King’s all-too-brief life.

It is an interesting approach: in focussing on just one of King’s campaigns, the filmmakers have given themselves more room to rummage round in Dr King’s character.  By confining themselves to the Selma marches alone, the film takes the viewer inside not just the struggle but also the thoughts and rationale of the organisers.  It is known that Spielberg/Dreamworks currently hold the rights to King’s speeches, presumably for the purposes of making a more conventional biopic, but it should be questioned if a film covering the whole of King’s life would be as good as Selma.  By cramming all 39 years of King’s existence into a 180 minute movie, there would be an inevitable element of superficiality about the whole thing.  In order to keep up with the pace of the film, something would have to be surrendered and you can’t help but wonder if that missing element would be King’s soul.  In passing, its worth noting that this is a lesson of which Spielberg is very aware: his stately Lincoln examined only one element of the life of another (perhaps the other) extraordinary American and, in doing so, gave us an insight into the unique thought processes, beliefs and manner of the first republican president.

That’s not all that Lincoln and Selma share.  Both films are problematic (there is an air of school lesson and exposition about both – characters tend to arrive fully formed and hitting the audience in the face with a levered-in biography (“Hi, I’m Abraham Lincoln, you might remember me from such historical events as the secession crisis and the emancipation proclamation”)) and both take their time to deal with the minutiae of committee decisions.  At the core of both films, however, is a blow-your-hair-back performance by a leading actor finding the role of his career.

Everybody’s been saying it: David Oyelowo was bizarrely ignored at the major awards when Selma was released.  Everybody is right.  This is a towering performance which conveys King’s charisma, authority and faith.  A performance in which Oyelowo delivers speeches with such impeccable timing, rhythm and accent that the viewer could easily forget that this is not a documentary feature.

Go back and watch it.  There is a scene in a hall where King talks to activist students about his methods for organising and resisting.  It is astonishing.  A compelling, believable and driven performance which stands toe to toe  and shoulder to shoulder with anything any other actor in a major American picture has produced in the last ten years.