The brilliance of “Moana,” directed by John Musker and Ron Clements, lies in its perfect execution of the classic Disney formula. The film manages to enchant children while simultaneously offering layers of complexity and depth that resonate with adult viewers. This combination of engaging storytelling and rich detail is what makes “Moana” particularly special.

Disney princesses have long been cultural icons, yet it’s uncommon for them to be portrayed as multi-faceted characters with significant inner lives and motivations that extend beyond romance. Moana, voiced by Auli’i Cravalho, who also has a producer role in the upcoming live-action remake, breaks this mold. She stands out as a Disney princess who defies traditional gendered storytelling norms.

Furthermore, the film prioritizes Moana’s personal growth and decision-making, a rarity among Disney’s female protagonists. This aspect is even more remarkable given that the film nearly featured a different lead character. In “Moana,” the narrative unfolds as a direct result of her actions and choices, highlighting her autonomy and serving as an inspiring example for young girls about the power of self-determination.

Moana has a vibrant personality that is manifested coherently throughout the movie, a clear set of beliefs grounding her, and non-romantic wants and goals that feel tangible. Sure, her mission is initially tied to a male character in Maui (voiced by Dwayne Johnson in one of his very best movies). But, when Maui’s help turns out not to be strictly necessary for saving her home island of Motunui and protecting her people, Moana does it herself.

Even more importantly, the film lets Moana’s interiority guide the plot in a way rarely seen among Disney female protagonists, which is extra impressive considering “Moana” almost had a completely different main character. Virtually everything in the movie happens because Moana makes it happen or otherwise sets it into motion. She quite literally shapes her own story, which makes her an exceptional model to teach girls about autonomy.

The presence of the ocean itself as a character that moves, makes decisions, interacts with people, and even snarkily punctuates comedic beats is one of the most delightful things about “Moana.” It did, however, lead to accusations of plot holes: Specifically, viewers have questioned why the ocean didn’t just give Te Fiti her heart back directly, and why its protection of Moana is inconsistent across the movie. It all makes sense, however, if you understand the ocean as a spiritual guide driven by larger goals than just solving the plot.

The ocean didn’t just want to restore Te Fiti’s heart and be done with it; it wanted the people of Motunui to rediscover their sailing tradition, and the only way to do that was to have Moana complete the journey as a wayfinder and then bring her experience back home. Plus, the ocean might not have been able to give Te Fiti her heart back immediately because Te Fiti became a lava creature who couldn’t touch water.

Viewing the ocean that way, it’s easy to understand why it tests Moana’s kindness as a child by presenting her with the imperiled turtle and then gently assists and protects her from greater harm as an adult while still allowing her to figure out sailing for herself. The adults in the audience are able to understand that the ocean is a mentor to Moana, not her personal assistant.

One of the staples of the traditional Disney animated film is the overprotective parent. It’s a particularly central element of “The Little Mermaid,” the Disney film with which “Moana” arguably shares the most DNA. And, just like King Triton, Moana’s father Tui (Temuera Morrison) is framed unsympathetically by the movie for his stubborn refusal to let Moana go beyond the reef, coupled with his denial about the unsustainability of self-contained life on Motunui. If you watch the movie as a parent, however, you may find that Tui has more of a point than Moana is willing to concede.

Yes, the history of Tui’s people is one of proud sea explorers, but the same history also teaches him that venturing beyond the reef eventually became extremely dangerous and pretty much useless. As he repeatedly points out, the island does indeed offer everything its inhabitants could need. He even has firsthand experience with defying good sense in the name of teenage spunk and subsequently running into tragedy. Therefore, right up until Motunui begins to rot, it’s not unreasonable for Tui to make an absolute priority of Moana’s safety, even to the detriment of her own desire to see what’s out there.

Moana’s mother Sina (Nicole Scherzinger) is less prominent than Tui for the most part, but she does headline one of the movie’s most crucial moments. When Moana is packing up her things in secret to sail off beyond the reef during the reprise of “How Far I’ll Go,” Sina catches her — but, instead of reprimanding her daughter, Sina helps Moana finish packing, hugs her, and sends her on her way.

Considering the aforementioned point about Tui not being entirely off the mark in his choice to forbid Moana from leaving the island, Sina’s decision to aid Moana and give her blessing to her daughter’s journey is a fascinating one from a parental standpoint. Obviously, both of Moana’s parents love her and are deeply concerned for her safety — but where they seem to differ is that Tui still fundamentally sees Moana as a child. Sina, by contrast, appears to view Moana in a more clear-eyed way, understanding her as a young woman capable of making her own decisions.

There’s no doubt that Sina still worries about Moana, as evidenced by her enormous relief when Moana arrives back in Motunui at the end of the movie. But she’s prepared to guide her daughter into adulthood and let go of controlling her. Tui doesn’t seem entirely capable of that yet, even with all his efforts to prepare Moana for leadership.

In Maui’s song “You’re Welcome,” the demigod of the wind and sea introduces himself to Moana by listing off his accomplishments, the changes they brought about, and the elements of the world he’s personally responsible for. Maui notes that he “pulled up the sky,” “stole you fire from down below,” “lassoed the Sun,” “harnessed the breeze,” and “pulled [islands] from the sea.” He even takes credit for the existence of the tide, the grass, and coconuts.

Many of these feats are drawn from real Polynesian oral tradition, in which the figure of Maui really is depicted as a trickster culture hero — albeit not usually a demigod — whose bold exploits laid much of the groundwork for the world in which humans live. Although oral tradition inevitably varies from teller to teller, stories told across Polynesia have frequently cited Maui lifting up the sky, discovering the secret to making fire, capturing the Sun and making it travel more slowly, and fishing up islands.

Even the story about killing an eel, burying it, and making the first coconut tree sprout out is pulled from real myth. It does bear noting, though, that the movie leaves out the goddess Hina, a companion variously depicted as Maui’s sister, wife, or mother among different Polynesian cultures who played a major part in many of his adventures.

One of the challenges of making a Disney animated movie today is that there’s a near-century’s worth of cultural baggage to grapple with. “Moana” aces all the tenets of the classic Disney recipe, but the fact remains that it is a recipe, and that puts a lot of contemporary viewers off. To deal with that dilemma, “Moana” uses the device of the genre-savvy character who gives voice to viewers’ potential reservations in the form of Maui.

Given that the movie around him is busy sincerely cultivating the traditional ingredients of Disney adventure (the “I want” song, the journey’s call, the animal sidekick, etc.), it falls to Maui to wisecrack about how Moana fits the exact archetype of a Disney princess even if she doesn’t consider herself one. Later, at a juncture where a musical number wouldn’t really fit, Maui himself tells Moana, “If you start singing, I’m gonna throw up.”

Part of the ingenuity of leaving those quips to Maui is that Maui is a bit of a bitter, insensitive jerk. When he complains about the formula, the complaints are being laid out there and acknowledged, but they’re not really being validated. The writers approached the story in a way that helps skeptical viewers get over themselves and embrace Moana’s journey, just as Maui does (forming one of the best Disney duos of all time in the process).

While several people contributed to the story of “Moana” during its years in development (including Taika Waititi), in the end, the sole screenplay credit went to Jared Bush, who — like co-directors John Musker and Ron Clements – is white. So, by default, the film presents an outsider’s view of Polynesians. This outside corporate gaze does result in some questionable elements, such as the omission of Hina and Motunui’s stereotypical obsession with coconuts. However, the film did make strides in terms of tactful cultural representation of non-white cultures in Disney films. Consultants from the Oceanic Story Trust were brought in, but you don’t need awareness of that behind-the-scenes fact to notice, as an adult viewer, that “Moana” goes out of its way to avoid overtly whitewashing and Americanizing its story like past Disney movies.

It’s no secret that Disney has a history of grossly offensive caricatures. With “Moana,” gone are the dated ethnic caricatures of “Aladdin,” the ahistorical false balance and dehumanizing idealization of “Pocahontas,” and the dilution of Chinese values of “Mulan.” In their place, “Moana” offers a story that retains much of the logic and structure of oral traditions, featuring three-dimensional Polynesian characters whose values remain nature- and community-driven with no romance in sight, and whose cosmovision is not Christianized in any way (an issue even “Hercules,” with its Zeus-as-God and Hades-as-the-Devil approximation, didn’t manage to avoid). Of course, the movie should not be taken as an educational primer on Polynesia or as a work of authentic indigenous storytelling, but it did get more things right than usual for Disney.

The sequence in which Moana and Maui face off against the Kakamora — the tiny pirate warriors in coconut armor who roam the sea in search of loot — is a bit of a non-sequitur in the original “Moana.” “Moana 2” expands on their story, but, in the original film, the Kakamora sequence’s main narrative function is to serve as a strength-building moment for Moana, who refuses to leave the Heart of Te Fiti behind and fights tooth and nail to get it (and Heihei) back while Maui just watches in befuddlement, ultimately coming to respect her more for her skill and resolve. But, at the end of the day, it’s all mainly an excuse to add a spectacular action scene into the film’s relatively uneventful sea-crossing portion.

When creating this adrenaline-injecting moment, the filmmakers drew inspiration from the best action movie of the 2010s: George Miller’s “Mad Max: Fury Road.” John Musker and Ron Clements have said in interviews that “Fury Road” was a major influence on the Kakamora sequence. “We really wanted to make it a big scale, you know, kinetic thing,” co-director John Musker told Slash Film. “And I think George Miller’s a master of that kind of stuff.” As a result, grown-up viewers may have caught that the coconut pirates’ massive, multi-story ships visually echo the rambunctious vehicular architecture of the 2015 George Miller film, with the heroes doing their best to slip through a mass of highly-organized foes.

While the revelation that Te Ka is Te Fiti means that “Moana” doesn’t have an arch-villain in a traditional sense, it does have a one-off villain. That villain is, of course, Tamatoa, the giant coconut crab who hoards treasures — including Maui’s hook — in his cave. He’s strikingly-designed and flamboyant enough to make a strong impression on kids and adults alike, but most grown-ups who watch the movie will know that Tamatoa is a clear homage to a pop culture icon: David Bowie.

From his different-sized pupils to his love of all things glittery, Tamatoa is visibly inspired by the artistic persona of Bowie, who passed away in January of the year “Moana” was released, making the movie a prime time for a tribute. “The world had already been mourning Bowie, I’d been listening to Bowie on a loop,” Lin-Manuel Miranda, who wrote Tamatoa’s song, “Shiny,” told People. “I was like, ‘Well I’m writing a glam rock tune for this crab, this jewel-encrusted crab.’”

The voice behind Tamatoa is Jemaine Clement, who Miranda had performed with in the past. As such, he was well aware of the Bowie tribute that Clement did as part of his musical comedy group Flight of the Conchords. When he found out that Clement had been cast as Tamatoa, everything just clicked. “Their Bowie tribute, which they did back at the Aspen Comedy Festival, was so brilliant, I said ‘Oh, I’m writing that,’” Miranda revealed.

The character of Maui was largely inspired by the eponymous trickster folk hero from Polynesian mythology. This extends to his backstory, which gets revealed in the homestretch of the movie: Like his namesake in Māori tradition, Maui was thrown into the sea by his parents after being born. In the Disney version of the story, he was then rescued by the gods, who gave him his powers. It’s clear even to children that this is a traumatic backstory, but it’s hard for younger kids to grasp the sheer horror of being a victim of attempted infanticide.

The same goes for the rest of Maui’s story: After narrowly escaping death by his own parents’ hands, he was left to grow up alone and ultimately fell into a cycle of trying to please humans with favors and gifts to feel accepted. The more he gave, the harder it became for him to conceive of being loved in any genuine way. It’s dark, dark stuff. When you stop to think about it, it’s no wonder Maui was so emotionally stunted and so impacted by the revelation that humans might not like him anymore.

On a plot level, Moana is the one who restores the Heart of Te Fiti because she’s the protagonist and it makes logical sense. But the choice to make Moana the author of the film’s climax (as opposed to Maui or the ocean itself) also carries a greater significance on a thematic level. Moana’s moment of connection with Te Fiti — in which she sees Te Ka the lava monster for who she really is and understands her plight profoundly — acts as a perfect simultaneous cap to the film’s overarching journey and to Moana’s inner journey as a character. In that moment, Moana realizes that Te Fiti has been robbed of her sense of self and then cast out by the very humans who wronged her in the first place, her anger and despair unfairly framed as evil.

Of course it had to be Moana to reach that insight. After all, “Moana” is a film about the importance of understanding and defining for yourself who you are, and about the power of redemption and self-reinvention. And that theme is directly expressed through Moana’s arc, including the transformative help she offers Maui in his own redemption. When she gives Te Fiti her heart, she’s effectively bringing all her journey’s lessons to bear. She had to go through that journey to reach that exact conclusion — which is why it’s so powerful.

In “Moana,” humans, in their unquenchable thirst for power, pressure Maui into retrieving the Heart of Te Fiti, which will supposedly give them the power to create life itself. Ultimately, this desire to hold sway over life dooms the world, as stealing Te Fiti’s heart disrupts the balance of nature and kicks off a corrosion process that poses a threat to the entire archipelago. Sound familiar?

Almost certainly by accident, “Moana” managed to offer up a surprisingly cogent metaphor for the generative AI frenzy currently eating away at the Earth’s natural resources. AI chatbots and large language models, as they’re being engineered today, are essentially an upgraded form of predictive text, nowhere near anything we might call “sentience” or “life.” But the AI race is pushing businesses and governments to pump unlimited resources into data centers, which profoundly impact the environment and may be dramatically accelerating the world’s already-dire climate crisis.

This was far from the case when “Moana” hit cineplexes back in 2016, when the transformer-based language models that paved the way for the AI boom had yet to be introduced. But it’s impossible to watch “Moana” now as an adult without thinking of those parallels. Just as humans in “Moana” wreaked destruction in exchange for a power that the Heart of Te Fiti didn’t actually grant them, humans in the real world will not “create life” through AI — but they may well wreck the world trying.