Boil It Down: A return to hand drawn animation and the first African American princess do not by themselves make a wondrous picture.
For all that it tries to do and actually accomplishes, The Princess and the Frog is another in a long line of instantly forgettable Disney films. Maybe the problem is everything the studio produces will immediately be compared to the classics like Lady and the Tramp and Snow White or the "new" classics like The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. It may also be the DreamWorks/Pixar effect, both of whom train audiences to expect more than simple fairy tales from animated features. And maybe, just maybe, this kind of filmmaking has burned itself out. See, when Lady and the Tramp debuted in 1955, animation on the big screen was still a new concept, having been introduced domestically in 1937 with Snow White. Today, the bar is set higher, the standards grow more lofty and the Disney hand drawn brand has struggled to keep up. (This is the first Disney hand drawn film since 2004's Home on the Range.) Discounting the look and limitations of the format, such as depth, texture and realism, The Princess and the Frog is lacking in any number of basic story requirements, most notably in the areas of show stopping musical numbers, a compelling villain and a protagonist the audience can't help but root for.
The obvious place to start, then, is with the story. Adapted from E. D. Baker's "The Frog Princess," which was then adapted by the Brothers Grimm into "The Frog Prince," The Princess and the Frog is a simple film, moving from point A to point B to point C with all the technical know-how we'd expect. What it lacks is an undefinable "it" quality, the one element which makes a good movie a great one. There's no pop to Rose's Tiana. Sure, she's pleasant enough, sweet and kind and strong-willed and confident. The script does a workman-like job of telling it's story, moving the pieces into place, though none of it manages to be terribly compelling. She's a one-note character without much personality or driving motivation. It's as if all writer/director team Ron Clements and John Musker could put together for their heroine was a dead parent and a dream. At least she gets some kind of character, however lacking it may be. Prince Naveen is a paper-thin stereotypical royal playboy concerned only with having fun. That's it. In the grand tradition of Aladdin or Hercules, shouldn't there be more to him? Even by the end, when his character has supposedly completed his arc, changing from a playboy into something more, there's a sense he is simply going through the motions because the script demands it and not in any organic fashion.
And then there's Doctor Facilier, also called the Shadow Man throughout the picture. To be succinct, he's as one-dimensional a villain as Disney has put on screen in some time. He's given very little to actually do, aside from twirl his mustache and sneer into the camera. Whereas Ursula had a backstory and reason for being and Gaston approached a fully fleshed out character, Facilier is evil for the sake of being evil. In another terms, he exists since the plot needs a bad guy, not because the character has a reason to exist. Paying back a debt to voodoo gods isn't enough to kick-start this part of the plot. And without a substantial bad guy to work with, The Princess and the Frog ends up existing just for the sake of existing. This is a scripting issue on the most basic of levels. When Facilier and Lawrence team up, the situation can only get worse, though, at least, the latter has a reason for working against Naveen.
(Facilier does have a plan, no matter how ho hum it might be. By turning Lawrence into Naveen and tricking Charlotte into marrying him, he'll get financial control of the city and, through some strange machination, the souls of the people living there. That's what the voodoo lords want, after all. Like I said, ho hum.)
Much has been made of Tiana being the first African American Disney princess. The studio should be commended, at least, for finally diving head first into the subject, considering the story takes place in New Orleans at a time when segregation was still alive and well. While Clements and Musker don't beat the audience over the head with the topic, they do provide images and sequences speaking to the time period. Tiana's mother, Eudora (Oprah Winfrey), works as a seamstress for a wealthy white family. There's also a comment by a realtor Tiana won't be able to buy the building for her restaurant because of her "background." The insinuation is her race precludes her from doing anything more than simply waiting on people. While this is a noble place for Disney to go with one of their animated pictures, it feels too late, culturally speaking, and doesn't go far enough in addressing any of the issues. They're glossed over, relegated to the side or spoken of in oblique terms. Could it be the studio was terrified of actually saying something with the story that they removed nearly all traces of the message? After all, the original title ("The Frog Princess") was changed, as was the name of the main character to prevent negative association between Maddy and Mammy, an African American stereotype. Certainly these changes don't doom this aspect of the film by themselves; it's a symptom of a larger problem where the political climate of the time period is barely mentioned.
It is striking to see a Disney film in which white characters take a backseat to other races. In particular are the La Bouff's, Eduroa's employer and the wealthiest family in New Orleans. They're almost too genial, too friendly to Tiana through the movie. During a soiree to welcome Naveen, Tiana inadvertently destroys a table of her own food. We expect Charlotte to lose her temper and berate the help. But she doesn't. Tiana gets a magnificent dress of her own. How realistic is that? When it comes to the finale, the realism completely goes out the window, but that would be a spoiler. What isn't a spoiler is to mention one last stock Disney cliche: the talking animal friends. There's Ray the firefly (Jim Cummings) and Louis the alligator (Michael-Leon Wooley), neither of whom feel fresh or particularly memorable in any meaningful way. Ray is in love with a star he calls Evangeline since he thinks she's a firefly. Hmmm...love based on mistake identity. Where have we seen that before? And Louis wants to be human...might as well bring Human Again out of retirement and let him sing.
If it sounds like The Princess and the Frog is bottom barrel Disney, it's not. The voice acting and singing are on par with animation from the studio. Rose, in particular, imbues Tiana with a lively grace. Musical set pieces aren't necessarily show stoppers or on par with more recognized Mouse House fare, though they're far from terrible. The film contains a positive message about putting other people first and the power of friendship; it doesn't spend too much time dabbling in the dark arts. The location and music type is new for the studio, relatively speaking, bringing a flare to the production. And it does try to do something revolutionary in the art form, with a black princes. The Princess and the Frog feels like the creative energy was spent in making the story politically correct, not in making it terribly compelling.
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