Vivo

Back in 2021, we were living through what I like to call the "Lin-Manuel Miranda Singularity." You couldn't throw a stone without hitting a project he’d written, starred in, or breathed on. Between the filmed version of Hamilton still dominating Disney+, the big-screen adaptation of In the Heights, and the world-conquering soundtrack of Encanto, the man was the undisputed architect of our collective internal jukebox. Somewhere in the middle of that dizzying hyper-productivity, a small, bright-yellow honey bear named Vivo scurried onto Netflix and, somewhat unfairly, got lost in the shuffle.

I watched this for the first time while hunched over a bowl of slightly-too-mushy mango slices—a snack choice prompted entirely by the film's vibrant palette—and I was struck by how much heart this "other" 2021 musical actually possessed. While Encanto became the cultural juggernaut, Vivo is the scrappier, jazzier cousin that deserves a spot on your permanent rotation.

A Love Letter Written in Syncopation

The story kicks off in a sun-drenched plaza in Havana, where a busker named Andrés (Juan de Marcos González) and his musical partner, a kinkajou named Vivo (Lin-Manuel Miranda), perform for tourists. Their bond is wordless but perfect, communicated through complex rhythms and mutual respect. When Andrés receives a letter from his old flame, the legendary diva Marta Sandoval (Gloria Estefan), asking him to join her for her farewell concert in Miami, the stage is set for a grand romantic gesture.

Then, the movie pulls a "Disney parent" move—though with a more grounded, melancholic weight—and suddenly it falls to Vivo to deliver a long-lost love song across the Florida Keys. Lin-Manuel Miranda is essentially playing a furrier version of himself here; his signature "patter-rap" style is in full effect, and while your mileage may vary on his specific vocal timbre, his enthusiasm is infectious. He voices Vivo with a frantic, neurotic energy that perfectly balances the film’s more sentimental beats.

The Chaos Agent We Needed

The movie truly finds its groove when Vivo hits Florida and encounters Gabi (Ynairaly Simo), a purple-haired, recorder-breaking ball of chaos. If Vivo represents tradition and precision, Gabi is the frantic energy of a caffeinated toddler at a drum circle. She is loud, unpolished, and completely unapologetic about her "Keep to My Own Beat" lifestyle.

Ynairaly Simo was a newcomer when she voiced Gabi, and that lack of polished "thespian" shine is exactly why the character works. She sounds like a real kid, not a thirty-year-old Broadway veteran pretending to be ten. Her solo number is a neon-soaked, glitch-pop anthem that feels wildly different from the Afro-Cuban jazz of the opening act, and that's the point. The clash between Vivo’s old-school sensibilities and Gabi’s "Sand-Dollar" troop rebellion provides the comedic engine that keeps the middle act from stalling in the Everglades.

The animation by Sony Pictures Animation—the same folks who gave us the visual revolution of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse—is spectacular. There are moments, specifically during the song "My Own Drum," where the style shifts into a 2D-inspired, flat-graphic aesthetic that looks like a sticker book come to life. It’s these creative flourishes that keep the film from feeling like a generic "animal on a road trip" flick.

Why Did This One Slip Away?

It’s a bit of a tragedy that Vivo didn't get a proper theatrical run. Originally a Sony theatrical release, it was sold to Netflix during the pandemic’s peak uncertainty. On a streaming platform, films often have the shelf life of an open yogurt; if they aren't a "four-quadrant" phenomenon in the first forty-eight hours, the algorithm buries them under a mountain of true-crime documentaries.

There’s also the matter of the "Lin-Manuel Fatigue." By the time Vivo dropped, some critics were pushing back against the ubiquity of his style. But listening to the score now, away from the 2021 hype cycle, you can appreciate the craft Alex Lacamoire and Miranda put into it. The way they weave the central "Love Song" through different genres—from a traditional bolero to a frantic chase theme—is high-level musical storytelling.

I’m particularly fond of the supporting cast, including Zoe Saldaña as Gabi’s exasperated mom and Brian Tyree Henry as a star-crossed spoonbill. They add layers to a world that feels lived-in and culturally specific. This isn't just "Generic Tropical City;" it’s a specific love letter to the bridge between Havana and Miami.

Vivo is a vibrant, rhythm-heavy journey that manages to tackle heavy themes of legacy and unspoken words without ever losing its sense of fun. It’s a film about the things we leave unsaid and the music that bridges the gap between generations. While it might have been overshadowed by its more famous siblings in the Class of 2021, it has more than enough personality to stand on its own two paws. If you missed it during the initial streaming rush, give it a look; it’s a song worth hearing.