Moana' Review: A Newcomer Shines, but Disney's Latest Remake Drifts Off Course

There's something genuinely admirable at the heart of Disney's live-action "Moana." The studio assembled a predominantly Pacific Islander cast, shot on location in O'ahu, and handed the wayfinding story back to the communities it draws from. Director Thomas Kail, making his feature debut after "Hamilton," clearly approached the material with reverence. The intent is honorable. The execution, unfortunately, is another story.

Arriving barely a decade after the 2016 animated original—a high-water mark for modern Disney animation this remake never answers the question hovering over every frame: why does this film exist? The screenplay by Jared Bush and Dana Ledoux Miller follows the original nearly beat for beat. Moana still dreams beyond the reef, still defies her father, and still sails off to return the Heart of Te Fiti with a reluctant demigod at her side. Faithfulness isn't a crime, but fidelity without reinterpretation leaves the film feeling like an expensive tribute act.

Nowhere is the strain more visible than in the costuming. What read as bold and iconic in animation translates awkwardly to flesh and blood. Dwayne Johnson's Maui is the most glaring casualty outfitted in a padded bodysuit and a wig that never stops looking like a wig, he resembles a cosplayer of his character rather than a shapeshifting demigod of wind and sea. The tapa cloth and woven details throughout Motunui are lovingly researched, but the overall visual language sits in an uncanny middle ground: too polished to feel lived-in, too literal to feel mythic. When your hero's silhouette becomes a distraction, the costume department hasn't served the story.

Then there's Johnson himself. In 2016, Maui was essentially an animated valentine to The Rock's persona the swagger, the eyebrow, the "You're Welcome" of it all. Reprising the role in the flesh should have been effortless. Instead, Johnson seems oddly deflated, going through motions he once made feel spontaneous. The charm radiating from the animated Maui that irresistible, self-aware bravado has evaporated, replaced by a performance that feels like a contractual obligation. It's a strange thing to watch a movie star lose a charisma contest to his cartoon.

The film's saving grace, and it is a significant one, is newcomer Catherine Laga'aia. The Australian actress of Samoan descent, making her screen debut, is luminous. Her voice rings clear and true on "How Far I'll Go," and she brings a groundedness to Moana that honors Auliʻi Cravalho's original vocal performance while making the character her own. Her scenes with Rena Owen's Gramma Tala carry real emotional weight, and whenever the camera trusts her to simply be determined, doubtful, or defiant, the movie briefly remembers what it's about. Whatever Disney does next, they've found a star.

And of course, there are the songs. Lin-Manuel Miranda's music remains the sturdiest vessel in this fleet. "We Know the Way," performed by an ensemble of Pacific Islander performers, is genuinely stirring, and the musical numbers provide the only moments where the film achieves liftoff. But therein lies the sadness: a decade-old soundtrack is doing all the rowing. When the singing ends, the film's momentum ends, and no amount of Miranda's brilliance can fix a film with no voice.

The live-action "Moana" isn't a disaster. It's something quieter and, in a way, more disappointing a beautiful-looking, well-intentioned echo. Laga'aia deserves better. So does the audience. See how far you'll go? In this case, not nearly far enough.

Live action Moana sails to theaters world wide on July the 10th.