Animals and allegories

Chances are, in the next few weeks you’ll be hearing a lot about Zootopia, the new Disney movie about a metropolis of animals that have evolved past their old predator/prey instincts, if not always past the stereotypes associated with their species.

At first, Judy Hopps (Ginnifer Goodwin), the city’s first bunny cop (hired as part of Mayor Lionheart’s mammalian inclusion initiative—wink, wink) thinks she’s breaking out of the rural, carrot-farming rut the rest of her family embraces. But she soon finds the large urban elephants, rhinos, and bears on the police force have their own biases. The chief buffalo (Idris Elba) doesn’t think Judy is capable of anything more challenging than meter maid duty, so when she stumbles on a missing person (er, otter) case, she must rely on a sly, con-artist fox, Nick (Jason Bateman), to help her solve it.

To a certain degree, Zootopia deserves the unanimous applause mainstream critics are giving it for its clever insight into modern racial tensions. The themes sound heavy—and they are—but the movie handles them in such a lighthearted manner that we’re free to giggle at our own overwrought political correctness. Like when Judy explains to a well-meaning cheetah that bunnies can call other bunnies cute, but it’s offensive for another species to do so. Or when she praises Nick by telling him he’s “very articulate” and he returns the compliment by pointing out that she’s excellent at patronizing.

The tone turns more serious when Judy and Nick uncover evidence that predator animals are reverting to their “savage” ways and Judy suggests the cause could be biological. But this also underlines one of the film’s strengths.

Other than the mastermind behind the crime, no one in here is a villain, including Judy’s country bumpkin parents. They simply have misguided beliefs based on limited experience. The way to change these beliefs, Zootopia suggests, is not with forced language codes or dismantling the wonderful quirks of Tundratown or Little Rodentia until the city becomes one soulless, socially conscious homogeny, but with relationships. You don’t stop mistrusting foxes merely by hearing lectures that it’s bigoted to mistrust foxes. You do it by sharing real fellowship with foxes. And while you do, give each other some grace. It’s perfectly fine to relax and enjoy some laughs about the differences between cultural groups.

Sadly, Zootopia pushes the trend of adult humor in children’s movies way past the bounds of propriety. Scenes featuring drug-cooking rams à la Breaking Bad and a scantily clad pop-star gazelle who sighs breathily, “You’re a hot dancer,” when someone downloads her app are irritating enough. But Disney takes this leagues further when Judy’s investigation leads her to a nudist colony.

No doubt, Zootopia apologists will point to the letter of the scene and argue the visuals of the animals don’t include anything to call the film’s PG rating into question. True, but the spirit is unquestionably salacious. Judy’s eyes widen and she whispers in horror, “they’re naked,” as she enters this all-around den of iniquity and right before two pigs give her knowing sneers as they massage each other in the mud. Yeah. Mind blown.

Beyond this, Nick’s flashback scene to being muzzled as a young fox has a troubling tone, as does one meek little creature’s insistence that the prey—as 90 percent of the population—can band together against the predators. A subtle indictment of Middle America’s views against the “inclusive” elite? Perhaps. I’m still puzzling over that one.

Simply know that when you hear how groundbreaking Zootopia is—the reports are accurate; it just may not all be ground you want to break with your child.

Listen to Megan Basham’s review on The World and Everything in It.