A Roar That Echoes, But Doesn’t Quite Resonate
Disney’s latest venture into the Pride Lands, Mufasa: The Lion King, directed by Barry Jenkins, arrived in theaters on December 20, 2024, as a prequel to the 2019 photorealistic remake of the 1994 animated classic. With a stellar voice cast—including Aaron Pierre as Mufasa, Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Taka (later Scar), and supporting turns from Tiffany Boone, Seth Rogen, Billy Eichner, and Blue Ivy Carter—this origin story promised to flesh out the backstory of Simba’s noble father. As a fan of the original Lion King and a skeptic of Disney’s live-action remake trend, I approached Mufasa with cautious optimism. Did it deliver a tale worthy of its regal namesake, or is it another cash-grab in the ever-expanding circle of Disney’s IP empire? Let’s dig in.
The Story: A Familiar Journey with New Faces
Mufasa: The Lion King unfolds as a story-within-a-story, narrated by Rafiki (John Kani) to Simba and Nala’s daughter, Kiara (Blue Ivy Carter), with Timon (Billy Eichner) and Pumbaa (Seth Rogen) providing comic interludes. The main narrative traces Mufasa’s rise from an orphaned cub, separated from his parents in a flood, to the revered king of the Pride Lands. Along the way, he’s taken in by Taka, a princely lion who becomes his adoptive brother, setting the stage for their eventual rift. The duo, joined by Sarabi (Tiffany Boone) and a band of misfits, faces off against Kiros (Mads Mikkelsen), a menacing white lion bent on domination.
The plot hits familiar beats—loss, brotherhood, betrayal, and triumph—but struggles to carve out a distinct identity. While the 1994 film drew inspiration from Hamlet, Mufasa feels more like a leonine riff on The Ten Commandments, with its orphaned hero destined for greatness. Yet, the screenplay by Jeff Nathanson rushes through key moments, leaving emotional beats—like Taka’s transformation into Scar—feeling abrupt and unearned. Taka’s jealousy over Sarabi’s affection for Mufasa, rather than a deeper ideological clash, reduces Scar’s iconic villainy to a petty love triangle. It’s a missed opportunity to explore the complexity of a character who once rivaled Darth Vader in gravitas.
Visuals and Direction: Jenkins’ Touch Shines Through
If there’s a saving grace, it’s Barry Jenkins’ direction. Known for intimate, soulful films like Moonlight, Jenkins brings a surprising finesse to this big-budget spectacle. Partnered with cinematographer James Laxton, he infuses the photorealistic animation with sweeping camera movements and vibrant landscapes—lush savannahs, icy cliffs, and shimmering waters. Unlike Jon Favreau’s 2019 Lion King, which often felt like a sterile nature documentary, Mufasa boasts animals with expressive faces, bridging the gap between realism and emotional accessibility. A standout underwater fight sequence showcases Jenkins’ knack for dynamic action, proving he can handle blockbuster scale without losing his artistic signature.
The technical leap forward is undeniable. The CGI captures every whisker and muscle twitch, making the Pride Lands feel alive. Yet, this hyper-realism occasionally clashes with the film’s musical and comedic elements. Seeing photorealistic lions belt out tunes or crack jokes (thanks, Timon and Pumbaa) remains an uncanny experience—beautifully crafted, but oddly detached.
Music: A Mixed Bag from Miranda
Lin-Manuel Miranda’s original songs aim to echo the Disney Renaissance magic of Elton John and Tim Rice, but they fall short. Tracks like “I Always Wanted a Brother” and “Tell Me It’s You” are catchy enough, with the latter offering a tender R&B duet between Mufasa and Sarabi. However, most numbers lack the soaring memorability of “Circle of Life” or “Hakuna Matata.” When Hans Zimmer’s iconic score kicks in, it’s a stark reminder of what’s missing—a soundtrack that lingers long after the credits roll. The music serves the story but rarely elevates it, leaving Mufasa without a defining anthem.
Themes and Character: Strength in Simplicity, Weakness in Depth
The film leans heavily on themes of found family, teamwork, and earning respect through action rather than birthright. Mufasa’s journey from outsider to leader carries a populist streak, contrasting with the hereditary monarchy celebrated in the original. It’s a refreshing twist, though undermined by the inevitability of his kingship. Aaron Pierre’s commanding voice imbues Mufasa with reluctant nobility, while Kelvin Harrison Jr. hints at Taka’s inner turmoil—yet the script doesn’t give either enough room to breathe.
Kiros, the white lion antagonist, introduces a colonial metaphor that feels bold for Disney, but his one-dimensional bloodthirstiness flattens the stakes. Meanwhile, the framing device with Kiara, Rafiki, Timon, and Pumbaa adds little beyond fan service, interrupting the main narrative’s momentum. It’s a film torn between honoring its roots and forging a new path, ultimately satisfying neither fully.
The Verdict: A Noble Effort, But Not a King
Mufasa: The Lion King is a marked improvement over the 2019 remake, thanks to Jenkins’ vision and a more expressive visual palette. It’s a visually stunning, occasionally moving tale that kids and families might enjoy for its adventure and humor. Yet, it lacks the emotional depth and cultural impact of the 1994 classic. The pacing falters, the songs fade quickly, and the story feels like an elaborate footnote rather than a standalone epic. For every moment of brilliance—like Mufasa’s climactic stand against Kiros—there’s a rushed plot point or forced callback that drags it down.
As of March 2025, the film has grossed over $205 million worldwide, proving Disney’s formula still draws crowds. But artistically, it’s a missed opportunity. Jenkins’ talent shines through the corporate constraints, yet one can’t help but wonder what he could have done with an original story unshackled from franchise baggage. Mufasa roars, but it doesn’t resonate—a noble lion that never quite claims the throne.
Rating: 3.5/5
Worth a watch for fans, but don’t expect the magic of the original.
Worth a watch for fans, but don’t expect the magic of the original.