POCAHONTAS (1995)

It’s difficult to discuss starry-eyed fictional interpretations of Pocahontas without feeling the need to immediately dive into the true story behind this woman, her life, and her untimely death. At the same time, no one would expect an 81-minute Disney film intended for children to depict these events with anything resembling pinpoint accuracy in their dramatisation of Pocahontas’ interactions with the Englishman John Smith. What’s more surprising is not that the film muddles up some basic facts, but that it’s well-intentioned in its depictions of the natives and colonists.

The love story between Jamestown colonist John Smith (Mel Gibson) and Powhatan member Pocahontas (Irene Bedard) is framed as a point of connection between two groups in constant conflict, with colonialism’s malevolent aspects personified by Governor Ratcliffe (David Ogden Stiers), a ruthless and greedy leader who plans to acquire gold in Virginia and kill any Native American who gets in his way. Ratcliffe is a domineering figure, imposing his physicality in any scene he’s in as he looms over everyone around him. It’s a simple metaphor for greed, and a repetitive method in Disney’s arsenal to signal that we are watching a villainous presence, but it’s effective all the same.

Hoisting the entirety of European colonialism’s greed and malevolence on a single character is narrow-minded even for a children’s film dealing in escapist magic. Perhaps instead Pocahontas should be viewed as a doomed project from the get-go, which dilutes and distorts historical fact and the complexity of emotions and beliefs to a two-bit battle for power between two warring groups, who exist seemingly to fight with one another and set up a conflict for the film’s two lovers. Taking this love story on its storytelling merits, there are entertaining sequences to behold in Pocahontas, but it never feels like there’s anything all that urgent about this love affair. We know that she and Smith are transcending societal norms and going against the rules of their respective tribes as they sneak away from their homes to be with one another in secret, but emotionally these scenes are lacking in potency.

While Terrence Malick’s The New World (2005), also about Pocahontas and John Smith, engages in similar historical distortions to showcase a conventional romance between the pair, that movie redeems itself through visual poetry that keenly brings this ancient world to life. One can almost feel the ripples in the wind or the texture of the colonists’ clothing as Pocahontas dons these garbs for the first time. On a broader level it might not have reflected reality, but each individual moment is conveyed with such bottomless beauty and clarity of vision that the end result is stirring all the same.

The same cannot be said for Pocahontas, which isn’t nearly as tender or meaningful, even though there are some stunning shots. It’s difficult to say when criticism of this kind should begin or end with children’s films, but it’s strange watching how this film’s Native characters’ speaking to trees and courting friendships with wild animals. Regardless of whether or not such depictions are insensitive or have aged poorly, these scenes have the unintended side effect of making the vast majority of these Native characters feel as relevant to this story as its animals. It mythologises a group of people and reveres their traditions, but the actual character development is lacking. The same is true of the colonists, but naturally, they’re of lesser importance anyway, not just because the film isn’t as interested in the perspective of a group of European invaders, but mainly they’re not of the same background as this protagonist.

Maybe a Malick movie is too unfair a comparison. Take Cinderella (1950) as an example instead: that Disney classic prevailed because of its protagonist’s depressing circumstances, which are painted vividly enough to make viewers yearn for a better future for this character. When she sings to herself while imagining a better life, these moments are stirring. But Pocahontas doesn’t have this tragic backdrop on a personal level. It’s true that both her and Smith recognise that their love compromises their safety, but you don’t feel that urgency. It never makes their relationship seem invaluable, whether that’s to each other or the film as a whole.

For all the anthropomorphic trees and animals, or the spark of young love, there’s little magical or euphoric about the experience. It’s most consistent trait is being mildly agreeable (historical inaccuracy aside). However, arguably the film’s most famous scene, which features Judy Kuhn providing Pocahontas’ singing voice as she belts out the lyrics to “Colours of the Wind”, is stirring. The animation is spirited, with magical moments where fantasy and reality converge and spectral animals dance across the sky.

And yet even in the movie’s finest moment one can glimpse why Pocahontas as a whole is a disappointment. Kuhn doesn’t sound a bit like Bedard, so it effectively feels like an entirely different voice actress (and thus, character) has emerged onscreen. Kuhn’s striking voice and emotive delivery make this character feel like she’s just been reborn by being shot out of a cannon. This was never an issue in Cinderella, with lead voice actress Illene Woods providing her singing voice for that film’s iconic tunes, as well as voicing the titular character’s dialogue. So when we do hear Woods sing, we notice both the tender notes that linger in her speaking voice and the undercurrent of hope that rests in these moments, unlike her typically dispirited tone when she’s conversing with her ghastly family members.

Besides, what has Pocahontas got to be so passionate about, when she’s simply remarking on a life that she has always had? As for the film’s primary voice actors, Gibson and Bedard are somewhat endearing, but not all that distinctive or emotive. Especially in the case of the former, it feels as though these performers could have been swapped out for a dozen or so replacements and nothing would be lost from this experience. The side characters’ delivery is far more expressive, since they get the chance to behave in an animated fashion for the sake of showcasing their villainy or humour. They play their roles very well, but even they can’t liven up a story that rarely enters second gear.

Criticism of Pocahontas’ depictions of race and culture are abundant, especially to modern audiences more primed to notice—and take offence to—these depictions. And while it’s true that more leeway should be granted to children’s films in this regard, and that the movie is ultimately a well-intentioned story of love triumphing over bigotry, violence, and greed, it proves too slight to resonate as a love story, either.

USA • JAPAN | 1995 | 81 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH • ALGONQUIN

Cast & Crew

director: Mike Gabriel & Eric Goldberg.
writers: Carl Binder, Susannah Grant & Philip LaZebnik (story by Glen Keane, Joe Grant, Ralph Zondag, Burny Mattinson, Ed Gombert, Kaan Kalyon, Francis Glebas, Robert Gibbs, Bruce Morris, Todd Kurosawa, Duncan Marjoribanks & Chris Buck; based on the story of Pocahontas).
voices: Irene Bedard, Judy Kuhn, Mel Gibson, David Ogden Stiers, Russell Means, Linda Hunt, Christian Bale & John Kassir.