Reviewing Onward marks a lot of firsts for my humble little blog. It’s the first movie I’m covering made by Pixar and Disney (Dragonslayer and Return to Oz were both joint produced by Disney, but this is a one hundred percent homegrown Disney product). It’s easily the most recent movie I’ve covered on here so far, and it’s also the first film I’ve posted while a GODDAMN GLOBAL PANDEMIC IS OCCURRING. I’m not especially proud of that last piece of information. Trying to stay positive and sane in these surreal and frustrating times has not been easy for me, as I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for people all over the world. I half expect our society to go full-on Mad Max at a certain point and turn into insane, gun-toting, leather-bound maniacs.
Still, we have to try and find ways to uplift ourselves and keep our sanity intact, and we thankfully have lots of streaming services to keep us distracted. Onward, which moved from theaters to Disney+ and Apple TV for this unfortunate occasion, could be that emotional salve for a lot of people. It’s a competently made urban fantasy adventure that’s equal parts funny and moving. But the core of its narrative and its staying power somewhat lacks due to certain choices that the film makes.
Onward takes place in a fantasy world where your standard fare of elves, trolls, centaurs, and various other magical races coexist. It’s explained to us in an opening narration that the world used to be full of magic, and D&D style adventuring was commonplace. But due to technological advancement, magic eventually grew obsolete. The wizard staff replaced with an iPhone and adventuring was deemed unnecessary. In the modern day, Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) is a diffident teenage elf who lives with his mother Laurel (Julia Louis Dreyfus) and his brother Barley (Chris Pratt). The brothers’ father, Wilden (Kyle Bornheimer), died before Ian was born. Still, Laurel has moved on with her new centaur police officer boyfriend Colt Bronco (Mel Rodriguez), and Barley is too distracted with his role-playing games, which he claims to be based on actual history, to dwell on it. Ian, however, is lamenting his father’s absence as he goes through a self-confidence crisis.
On Ian’s sixteenth birthday, his mother gives him a gift from his father: a wizard staff with a rare gem at the end of it, and a letter from Wilden containing a “visitation spell,” which can resurrect a single person for one day. Ian is able to cast the spell, but his inexperience with magic and his lacking of confidence in himself and the magic only makes the bottom half of his father appear. With the gem used up and the clock ticking, Ian and Barley set off on a quest with their vertically challenged parent to find another gem to complete the spell and spend a day with their father.
Those are unmistakably dad pants.
The metaphor that the movie is selling is a clear and familiar one. Much like how the world in Onward pushed magic to the side and forgot about it once they gained technology, we’ve pushed the methods and benefits of the natural world away as technology has progressed and made our lives easier. But has technology made us forget our roots? I’ve heard this kind of green thumb schtick before in other movies, some of them even other Pixar movies like Wall-E and The Incredibles 2, but Onward approaches it in way that I find more agreeable. Most films approach the nature vs. technology concept with an almost caveman-like attitude. “Nature good. Technology bad. Put phone away and talk to other humans. The end.” Onward rather refreshingly doesn’t insinuate that modern technology is inherently evil, It merely asks the viewer to consider that while it has brought us closer together than ever before, it has also divided us. The magic of the natural world isn’t truly gone and forgotten; you just have to know where to look. You can find magic everywhere in familiar places, forgotten places, and even in the people who you love. “Over time, magic faded away,” Wilden’s letter reads. “But I hope there’s a little magic left… in you.” I find this much more amicable a message than a movie talking down to me and saying that I should feel bad for owning a phone and that I should go and live in a tree like an Ewok if I want to try and make up for my impossibly large carbon footprint.
Don’t you judge me, you hideous, urine-stained, Build-A-Bear freak! I REGRET NOTHING! DO YOU HEAR ME?! NOTHING!!!
I have no serious qualms with the magic vs. technology aspect of the film despite its familiarity. As I mentioned before, what I do have issues with is the emotional core of the story. Onward is a fantasy adventure film, but it’s also a character drama involving father-son bonding and brother-brother bonding. While the brothers are adequately performed by Holland and Pratt, who successfully share many humorous and heavy moments, the relationship between the sons and their father feels less well-defined and much weaker. And due to a plot twist that comes later in the movie, the emotive intent of the father’s presence is lessened even more. It’s ironic that Disney has made a name for itself giving human features to inanimate objects and making them seem larger than life. But it’s incredibly challenging to empathize with a single item of clothing that can’t talk. Well, four if you count shoes, socks, and (hopefully) underwear. Wilden has a voice, which was supplied by Kyle Bornheimer, but it’s only heard via recording or narration, and his pants have to mime the character for the entirety of the film. In the right hands, this could be an excellent way to establish personality, and there are certain moments where you get an idea of what Wilden is thinking or feeling by his body language. But for the most part, the physicality of the pants feels restrained, and I have a hard time getting invested in the relationship between him and his kids as a result. Perhaps if they made the pants talk or gave them facial features, then we’d have something.
Corey, we need to talk about your flair. Fifteen is the minimum.
I also felt like the movie could have been a lot funnier. As is, Onward has a ripe setting with tons of comedic potential, but it generally seems content with being slightly amusing rather than hilarious. The world the movie takes place in is a suburban/fantasy hybrid, so fantastical elements you would see in an epic fantasy book or movie are contrasted with modern-day concepts. One joke I liked concerned a manticore named Corey (Octavia Spencer), whose size, strength, and ability to breathe fire made her a terrifying opponent and adventurer in the days of magic. But since those days are long gone, she had to find another way to make a living. So she runs a restaurant not too dissimilar to a medieval-themed TGI Fridays. Seeing this giant beast of legend get bossed around by impatient customers and stressing out about finances is a hilarious idea, and I wish there were more jokes like that in the movie. But it’s mostly just obvious visual gags. There’s a centaur that’s a cop, a mermaid in a kiddie pool, a gang of Pixie bikers, or a Troll operating a toll bridge. They get a brief chuckle out of me, but I would have preferred more layered jokes like the one with Corey the manticore.
Get it? It’s a Troll. It’s operating a toll bridge. Because it’s a Troll. It’s a Troll bridge. Get it? Ha ha……ha…..
I don’t want to give the impression that I disliked Onward, because that’s not the case. It’s an okay movie with some funny and sad bits and a decently constructed moral. But I felt these elements could have been a lot stronger with some design and story tweaks. Onward isn’t going to stick in my mind as one of Disney’s most memorable achievements, but I’d be lying if I said I got nothing out of it. If you’re a Disney fan who has nothing else to do during quarantine, I’d recommend this. Nowadays, memorability isn’t necessarily a factor when it comes to the stuff we watch. We’re just frantically scrolling through streaming channels looking for show or movie that’ll give us any reason to stay hopeful and positive during this dumpster fire of a year. Onward will provide you with a little, and a little can mean a lot during this weird-ass time.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to do a grocery run. I’m out of toilet paper.
The Bard of the Reel 