Zootopia is one of those fabulous examples of Disney at its best. Its walking, talking animals aren't wallowing in sentiment. Its themes are arrestingly topical. Its entrancing animation is a feast to the eye and mind, creative and distracting in all the best ways.
Most important for me is the film's emphasis on female characters and especially the hero. Judy Hopps (voiced by Once Upon a Time star Ginnifer Goodwin) is a fierce, career-driven little rabbit whose ambitions and passion are larger than an elephant. She fights her way up a male-dominated (and large-animal dominated) police academy, and not unlike Clarice Starling, is then forced to combat daily doses of prejudice and endure species- and gender-based conflict. But her will to serve manifests itself in an infectious optimism, providing her with opportunities to grow and to shine, all while rendering the trope of finding a romantic attachment unnecessary: She's too busy helping others to worry about that.
Meanwhile, also like Clarice, she makes allies with a most unlikely figure: a con artist fox named Nick Wilde (voiced by Jason Bateman), whose carnivorous (read: cannibalistic) nature is occasionally called into suspicion. Their working relationship begins after he tricks Hopps into helping him make an extra buck, and she subsequently blackmails Nick into helping her find a missing otter. Their investigation leads to a murky side of Zootopia and a sinister plot to make carnivorous animals revert to their violent, bloodthirsty nature. This plot, furthered by mysterious members of the mayor's office, is as timely as it is clever, pulling together various film references and real-life humor to showcase governmental corruption -- fueled by bigotry and injustice -- at the center of our "civilized" culture.
The other main thing that endeared this movie to my heart is that it demonstrates a complex reality too often ignored in Disney films. The film's turning point comes when Hopps, in a press conference, suggests the biological inevitability of predators reverting to savagery. This is the bunny who has overcome obstacles of prejudice and bigotry her whole life, who has come into a diverse world with the sole intention of shattering systems of injustice. And now, in a few seconds, she suggests that the oldest, most primal stereotypes of her world are in fact true, and that the harmonious civilization built on mutuality and autonomy is as fragile and unnatural as a rabbit befriending a fox.
Of course, all ends well, as these films do. As it should, I might add, in order to reclaim the film's central themes of kindness, love, and cooperation in times of hatred, fear, and bigotry, and ultimately of the beauty of diversity. And there are so many contemporary references that the film feels a little overbearing at times (not unlike the allegorical and symbolic layers to the musical Into the Woods). The cleverness of its delivery, though, is that it will bring to mind various elements of our own cultural conflicts at a given time. It highlights gender-based inequalities and issues of classism and ableism. It dares us to consider sexual and political and even religious differences. Perhaps most overtly, it has us question our prejudices based on race. "Go back to the forest, predator!" shouts a fearful sheep [correction: pig] when the Zootopians turn on the carnivores; in reply the annoyed cheetah intones, "I'm from the savannah."
The allegory is far from absolute; it seems to invite layers of consideration as vast and diverse as the city depicted. And that is its crowning glory. By Shakira's final song celebrating tolerance and bravery, you'll be weeping and dancing in your seat as I was. Thankfully, the children seated around me were too. So it wasn't weird.
IMDb: Zootopia
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