Wish

I wanted to love Wish. I really did. As someone who grew up with a VHS collection that was 90% clamshell Disney cases, the prospect of a film celebrating 100 years of that specific brand of "wonder" felt like a homecoming. But walking out of the theater—and later revisiting it on Disney+ while my cat, Barnaby, aggressively groomed himself on my lap (his commitment to his craft was honestly more convincing than the world-building of Rosas)—I realized I wasn't moved. I was just... acknowledged.

Wish is a strange artifact of the current streaming era. It’s a film that tries so hard to be everything to everyone that it ends up feeling like a high-budget corporate retreat presentation. It’s the ultimate "Contemporary Cinema" casualty: a movie born from an algorithm’s idea of what nostalgia should look like, released into a post-pandemic market that had already moved on to the more vibrant, daring energy of things like Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse.

A Watercolor Identity Crisis

The first thing I noticed was the look. Directors Chris Buck and Fawn Veerasunthorn opted for a visual style that blends traditional watercolor backgrounds with 3D character models. It’s a noble goal—a nod to the hand-drawn roots of Snow White. In some frames, it’s genuinely beautiful, like a storybook coming to life. But in motion? It often feels unfinished. There’s a strange flatness to the lighting that made me feel like I was watching a pre-rendered cutscene from a mid-tier video game rather than a feature-length cinematic event.

Our hero, Asha, voiced by the undeniably talented Ariana DeBose, is the quintessential "modern" Disney protagonist. she’s quirky, she’s "adorkable," and she talks in that fast-paced, self-deprecating patter that has become the studio's default setting since Tangled. DeBose sings her heart out, but the script gives her very little to chew on beyond being "the girl who cares a lot." She lacks the messy, relatable edges of Mirabel from Encanto or the sheer powerhouse drive of Moana.

The King of Mid-Tier Villains

If there is a reason to seek this out before it fully evaporates from the collective memory, it’s Chris Pine. As King Magnifico, Pine is clearly having the most fun of anyone in the building. For years, Disney fans have begged for a return to the "pure" villain—the Maleficent or Jafar types who are just evil because it feels good. Magnifico starts as a nuanced leader protecting his people’s wishes, but he eventually pivots into a full-blown narcissist.

Pine’s performance is charismatic and campy, especially during his big musical number, "At All Costs." However, even he can't save the fact that the songs feel like placeholder tracks that someone forgot to replace with the final versions. Written by Julia Michaels and Benjamin Rice, the soundtrack leans heavily into "radio pop." It lacks the theatrical structure and lyrical cleverness that Alan Menken or Lin-Manuel Miranda bring to the table. Most of the lyrics feel like they were written by a self-help bot—lots of rhyming "star" with "are" and "far."

The Easter Egg Graveyard

Because this was the "Centenary Film," the production team stuffed it with over 100 references to previous Disney movies. You’ll see a Peter Pan lookalike here, a Sleeping Beauty dress there, and enough hidden Mickeys to cause a migraine.

Apparently, the filmmakers used a proprietary software tool called "Meander"—the same tech used for the short Paperman—to try and bridge the gap between 2D and 3D. While technologically impressive, this focus on "the legacy" ends up smothering the actual story. Every time I started to get invested in Asha’s journey to free the wishes of Rosas, the movie would stop and wink at me, as if to say, "Remember Bambi? Wasn't that great?"

It’s a classic case of franchise fatigue. Instead of building a new world, they built a museum. And as any museum-goer knows, you can admire the exhibits, but you aren't exactly invited to play with them. The adventure feels hollow because the stakes are tied to "the concept of wishing" rather than tangible, emotional consequences for the characters we’re watching.

Ultimately, Wish is a victim of its own occasion. It’s a perfectly functional 95-minute distraction for kids, featuring a cute-enough sidekick in Alan Tudyk’s Valentino (a goat whose only personality trait is having a deep voice), but it lacks the soul of the classics it tries to emulate. It feels like a movie written by a focus group that was terrified of making a mistake. In an era where animation is pushing boundaries, Wish is content to just stand still and point at the past.

It’s a film that’s already slipping into the "forgotten" category because it doesn't have a hook beyond its pedigree. If you have a rainy afternoon and a Disney+ subscription, it’s a harmless watch, but you’ll likely remember the movies it references far longer than the one you’re actually viewing. It turns out that wishing upon a star isn't enough; you actually need a script to go with it.