[9.7/10] Three different characters say the phrase “diamond in the rough” multiple times in the first fifteen minutes of Aladdin. While an age appropriate lesson, you would have to be dozing through most of the movie to miss its moral that a person’s worth comes from what’s inside them, rather from than their appearance or wealth or station in life. Aladdin is a rags to riches story, about a “street rat” whose inner-decency let’s him find love and fortune when he’s finally read to “beeeeee himself.”
But however trite that aesop may seem on the service, this crown jewel of the Disney Renaissance earns every bit of it. You’ll struggle to find a tighter script in all of the Disney Animated Canon. It quickly introduces each of its characters, giving them each struggles and goals; has each make choices that are self-flattering and those that are difficult, and lets the consequences of those choices lead to changes of heart and just deserts for everyone involved.
The meaning of what happens after Aladdin, and Jasmine, and even Jafar each choose to be themselves comes from how much time the film spends on exploring what happens when they try to be someone else.
Because Aladdin is also a story of wanting to control your own destiny, of having the agency and the capability to direct your own life, and about desperate people who feel they have to go great lengths to make that happen. The script underscores the point a little too neatly, but Aladdin and Jasmine each only see the limitations in their own lives and the possibilities in the other’s. The Genie’s central want in the movie is to finally be free. Even Jafar, with his power-hungry plotting, is that idea taken up to eleven -- the ability to throw off any restrictions on the life he wants, whether legal, romantic, or metaphysical.
That makes us care about the characters at the core of the film. Each of them essentially wants the same thing, while wanting very different versions of it, and their quests to get it conflicts and intersects in amusing, heartwarming, and occasionally frightening ways. Beyond the standard “true to yourself” messaging, Aladdin is just a cracking good story about characters with clear wants and wishes that drive the action, create the conflicts, and eventually provide a way through for all of them.
All the while, Disney is also offering the peak of its musical, visual, and comic abilities. Despite only boasting a few songs for a musical, Aladdin is all killer, no filler. From the mood-setting introduction of “Arabian Nights”, to the bombastic fun of “Prince Ali” to the coo-worthy duet of “A Whole New World”, each of the film’s tunes is at risk of getting stuck in your head. And the orchestration itself makes a perfect accompaniment to the scenes, whether it’s to heighten a tense moment in the marketplace or encompass Aladdin’s exaltation after his first kiss with Jasmine.
At the same time, Aladdin is a dazzling film to look at. The film mainly adopts a dusky blue palette for its desert setting, contrasting it with hot reds and oranges and yellows that flash and grab amid that azure landscape. The use of light is tremendous, creating shadows and setting moods as the two young paramours canoodle or the eponymous hero stalks his way through a torch-lit cave. And it’s characters are all expressive and move with an intuitive fluidity that marks a path between believable realism and the fantasy of this tall tale perfectly.
That’s all before you dive into the movie’s stellar action set pieces. Aladdin’s race into and out of the cave blends traditional animation and CGI better than most films released decades later. Little sequences like Abu being stranded amid lava or Aladdin needing to avoid a rolling turret are edited for maximum tension. And the final showdown with Jafar shows such imaginative visual verve, with a rapid-fire array of attempted saves and renewed threats before the street rat’s improvised trick that brings down the villain for good (or at least until the next movie).
But that creativity also extends to the film’s more comic character. Part of why the bits of sappiness or moralizing in Aladdin go down so easy is that at almost every turn, they’re undercut by some thoroughly enjoyable bit of comic relief. The animal sidekick trio of Abu, Iago, and Rajah each have their outstanding comic moments and bits of both exasperation and even pathos in connection with their human friends. The magic carpet is an understandably wordless character who not only fuels some of the movie’s most exciting sequences, but who manages to memorably express emotion and personality with nary a line of dialogue.
That’s all to say nothing of the tour de force performance that Robin Williams, and the stellar team of designers and animators, put in to create The Genie, one of the most stunning and memorable Disney characters of all time. The magical wish-giver is the perfect manifestation of Williams’s manic id style of humor, conjuring his impressions, fostering his rapid-fire wit, and even drilling down into that well of humanity he would put on display in more strictly dramatic roles.
It’s telling that The Genie doesn't show up until nearly half an hour into the film and yet he is one of its most iconic elements, carrying the humor, the moral, and even the emotion of the piece in the final tally. His and Williams’s presence in Aladdin are a nearly unrivaled achievement when it comes to the Disney Renaissance, and perhaps animated films writ large.
The Genie is, in many ways, Aladdin’s Jiminy Cricket and Blue Fairy rolled into one. He uses Williams’s panache to make Aladdin’s dream of being a prince to woo his princess possible, but he’s also the one trying to steer him toward the right choices beyond the costumes and cons that a little fairy dust can provide. Aladdin believes that there’s more to him than just his shabby clothes and denigrated position, but thinks that it’s the surface level bits of station and presentation that he lacks, rather than the utter decency and kindness that the movie takes pains to show, that will prove it.
His efforts are not academic. He wants to do all this to win the love of his life. As quickly as the film brings Aladdin and Jasmine together, it does a superb job of making them a root-worthy and intuitive likeable couple. There’s an instant rapport, an ability to improvise that brings them together. It’s easy to see them as each offering what the other wants -- the liberation of wealth and position vs. the liberation of no royal restrictions. But there’s also a sense that, as much as these two crazy kids really are from two different worlds, they’re joined not only by that hope for a particular kind of freedom and agency, but also by a desire to see and be seen for something that no amount of gold or titles or legal expectation can provide.
That’s all a little grandiose, but it’s the idea that powers the movie, and makes those moments so memorable and affecting. Jasmine is Disney’s most fully-realized princess yet, who goes after what she wants, rejects what she doesn't want, and cares about more than just her handsome crush. The Genie has weight beyond his uproarious comic asides because he too has hopes and dreams, the realization of which are not only heartwarming, but which come from a choice that marks Aladdin as being true-of-heart in a way that no narration or prophecy ever could. Even Jafar, as rankly evil as he is from the word go, has a fall that’s strengthened by the irony of his quest for unlimited power and freedom leading him to the same unexpected shackles everyone in the film is trying to escape.
That goes double for Aladdin himself, whose journey is as much a personal one as it is ridden with heart-pumping cave escapes and magic-boosted thoroughfare unveilings and international jaunts. He gets what he wants, as all characters must, but only after trying to get it the wrong way and paying the price for it. He stumbles, hurts his friends, out of an understandable insecurity that the truth will only keep him from the liberty and happiness that seem reserved for people with a different pedigree than he can offer. But he sets things right, and is rewarded for it, when he sticks to being the innately good, decent person he truly is.
There are worse lessons to pack in to a family film, particularly when it’s chock full of such memorable characters, melodies, and crowd-pleasing spectacle. There is no wasted second in Aladdin, with each moment perfectly-calibrate to make you laugh, cheer, sigh, or scream. It is the peak of Disney’s 1990s revivification, an endlessly stunning paean to the desire to chart one’s own path in life, and the true-to-oneself characters whose grace and decency earn them the right to that, and to share it with one another.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2019-05-27T19:50:00Z
[9.7/10] Three different characters say the phrase “diamond in the rough” multiple times in the first fifteen minutes of Aladdin. While an age appropriate lesson, you would have to be dozing through most of the movie to miss its moral that a person’s worth comes from what’s inside them, rather from than their appearance or wealth or station in life. Aladdin is a rags to riches story, about a “street rat” whose inner-decency let’s him find love and fortune when he’s finally read to “beeeeee himself.”
But however trite that aesop may seem on the service, this crown jewel of the Disney Renaissance earns every bit of it. You’ll struggle to find a tighter script in all of the Disney Animated Canon. It quickly introduces each of its characters, giving them each struggles and goals; has each make choices that are self-flattering and those that are difficult, and lets the consequences of those choices lead to changes of heart and just deserts for everyone involved.
The meaning of what happens after Aladdin, and Jasmine, and even Jafar each choose to be themselves comes from how much time the film spends on exploring what happens when they try to be someone else.
Because Aladdin is also a story of wanting to control your own destiny, of having the agency and the capability to direct your own life, and about desperate people who feel they have to go great lengths to make that happen. The script underscores the point a little too neatly, but Aladdin and Jasmine each only see the limitations in their own lives and the possibilities in the other’s. The Genie’s central want in the movie is to finally be free. Even Jafar, with his power-hungry plotting, is that idea taken up to eleven -- the ability to throw off any restrictions on the life he wants, whether legal, romantic, or metaphysical.
That makes us care about the characters at the core of the film. Each of them essentially wants the same thing, while wanting very different versions of it, and their quests to get it conflicts and intersects in amusing, heartwarming, and occasionally frightening ways. Beyond the standard “true to yourself” messaging, Aladdin is just a cracking good story about characters with clear wants and wishes that drive the action, create the conflicts, and eventually provide a way through for all of them.
All the while, Disney is also offering the peak of its musical, visual, and comic abilities. Despite only boasting a few songs for a musical, Aladdin is all killer, no filler. From the mood-setting introduction of “Arabian Nights”, to the bombastic fun of “Prince Ali” to the coo-worthy duet of “A Whole New World”, each of the film’s tunes is at risk of getting stuck in your head. And the orchestration itself makes a perfect accompaniment to the scenes, whether it’s to heighten a tense moment in the marketplace or encompass Aladdin’s exaltation after his first kiss with Jasmine.
At the same time, Aladdin is a dazzling film to look at. The film mainly adopts a dusky blue palette for its desert setting, contrasting it with hot reds and oranges and yellows that flash and grab amid that azure landscape. The use of light is tremendous, creating shadows and setting moods as the two young paramours canoodle or the eponymous hero stalks his way through a torch-lit cave. And it’s characters are all expressive and move with an intuitive fluidity that marks a path between believable realism and the fantasy of this tall tale perfectly.
That’s all before you dive into the movie’s stellar action set pieces. Aladdin’s race into and out of the cave blends traditional animation and CGI better than most films released decades later. Little sequences like Abu being stranded amid lava or Aladdin needing to avoid a rolling turret are edited for maximum tension. And the final showdown with Jafar shows such imaginative visual verve, with a rapid-fire array of attempted saves and renewed threats before the street rat’s improvised trick that brings down the villain for good (or at least until the next movie).
But that creativity also extends to the film’s more comic character. Part of why the bits of sappiness or moralizing in Aladdin go down so easy is that at almost every turn, they’re undercut by some thoroughly enjoyable bit of comic relief. The animal sidekick trio of Abu, Iago, and Rajah each have their outstanding comic moments and bits of both exasperation and even pathos in connection with their human friends. The magic carpet is an understandably wordless character who not only fuels some of the movie’s most exciting sequences, but who manages to memorably express emotion and personality with nary a line of dialogue.
That’s all to say nothing of the tour de force performance that Robin Williams, and the stellar team of designers and animators, put in to create The Genie, one of the most stunning and memorable Disney characters of all time. The magical wish-giver is the perfect manifestation of Williams’s manic id style of humor, conjuring his impressions, fostering his rapid-fire wit, and even drilling down into that well of humanity he would put on display in more strictly dramatic roles.
It’s telling that The Genie doesn't show up until nearly half an hour into the film and yet he is one of its most iconic elements, carrying the humor, the moral, and even the emotion of the piece in the final tally. His and Williams’s presence in Aladdin are a nearly unrivaled achievement when it comes to the Disney Renaissance, and perhaps animated films writ large.
The Genie is, in many ways, Aladdin’s Jiminy Cricket and Blue Fairy rolled into one. He uses Williams’s panache to make Aladdin’s dream of being a prince to woo his princess possible, but he’s also the one trying to steer him toward the right choices beyond the costumes and cons that a little fairy dust can provide. Aladdin believes that there’s more to him than just his shabby clothes and denigrated position, but thinks that it’s the surface level bits of station and presentation that he lacks, rather than the utter decency and kindness that the movie takes pains to show, that will prove it.
His efforts are not academic. He wants to do all this to win the love of his life. As quickly as the film brings Aladdin and Jasmine together, it does a superb job of making them a root-worthy and intuitive likeable couple. There’s an instant rapport, an ability to improvise that brings them together. It’s easy to see them as each offering what the other wants -- the liberation of wealth and position vs. the liberation of no royal restrictions. But there’s also a sense that, as much as these two crazy kids really are from two different worlds, they’re joined not only by that hope for a particular kind of freedom and agency, but also by a desire to see and be seen for something that no amount of gold or titles or legal expectation can provide.
That’s all a little grandiose, but it’s the idea that powers the movie, and makes those moments so memorable and affecting. Jasmine is Disney’s most fully-realized princess yet, who goes after what she wants, rejects what she doesn't want, and cares about more than just her handsome crush. The Genie has weight beyond his uproarious comic asides because he too has hopes and dreams, the realization of which are not only heartwarming, but which come from a choice that marks Aladdin as being true-of-heart in a way that no narration or prophecy ever could. Even Jafar, as rankly evil as he is from the word go, has a fall that’s strengthened by the irony of his quest for unlimited power and freedom leading him to the same unexpected shackles everyone in the film is trying to escape.
That goes double for Aladdin himself, whose journey is as much a personal one as it is ridden with heart-pumping cave escapes and magic-boosted thoroughfare unveilings and international jaunts. He gets what he wants, as all characters must, but only after trying to get it the wrong way and paying the price for it. He stumbles, hurts his friends, out of an understandable insecurity that the truth will only keep him from the liberty and happiness that seem reserved for people with a different pedigree than he can offer. But he sets things right, and is rewarded for it, when he sticks to being the innately good, decent person he truly is.
There are worse lessons to pack in to a family film, particularly when it’s chock full of such memorable characters, melodies, and crowd-pleasing spectacle. There is no wasted second in Aladdin, with each moment perfectly-calibrate to make you laugh, cheer, sigh, or scream. It is the peak of Disney’s 1990s revivification, an endlessly stunning paean to the desire to chart one’s own path in life, and the true-to-oneself characters whose grace and decency earn them the right to that, and to share it with one another.