Although execution of the movie's theme may lack nuance, such candor is to be expected from a mainstream animated film. After all, in the 70-plus years that have elapsed since the release of Disney's first full-length animated feature, "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" (1937), few "princess movies" have provided much in the way of philosophical edification. Rather than thematic substance, it is the presence of plucky heroines, charming casts of animal and human characters and catchy musical numbers that render moviegoers children and adults alike Disney die-hards. And, at least judging by these benchmarks, "The Princess and the Frog" more than delivers.
The film operates on a twist of the classic Brothers Grimm story in which a frog-prince persuades a spoiled princess to deliver him a kiss that will return him to human form. Disney's latest incarnation of the story chooses to partially remove the tale from the realm of royalty at least in the beginning, Tiana is no princess at all, but a struggling waitress working two jobs in New Orleans. She is about as far from spoiled as you can get. Furthermore, when Tiana tries to solve the new-prince-in-town's froggy problems with a smooch, she only makes the slimy situation worse, finding out for herself just how hard it is being green.
The premise, while far from revolutionary, ultimately provides enough intrigue to move the film along pleasantly. The frog versions of Tiana and Prince Naveen (whose calculated nonchalance borders on Caulfield territory) struggle to survive in the Louisiana bayou, battling hungry alligators, mentally incompetent trappers and evil spirits conjured by a voodoo priest. Not surprisingly, the two protagonists eventually become enamored of one another. This contrived love story, however, is a low point of the movie in comparison with Tiana and Naveen's platonic adventures through the swamplands.
On their journey through the Louisianian maze, the main duo is joined by a colorful bunch of tour guides, most notably Louis the alligator and Ray the firefly. Louis is the endearingly oblivious gentle giant of the film a creature so monumental in stature that he frightens Tiana and Naveen, until they find that he'd rather play jazz on his trumpet than feast on frog legs.
But while Louis provides ample protection and musical entertainment, his sense of direction is not quite up to par. Thankfully Ray, with his abundance of local Cajun know-how, informs the trio that they are travelling in the wrong direction to reach the dwelling place of Mama Odie, the kind but insane voodoo matriarch of the bayou, whom Tiana and Naveen hope can render them human once more. Some of the film's best scenes owe their success to this lovably scrappy firefly, whose earnest proclamation of love for his Evangeline (the brightest star in the sky, which Ray interprets as a beautiful female lightning bug) steals viewers' hearts with unassuming ease.
Ray and his band of firefly friends also make for some truly spectacular animation. The scene in which hundreds of lightning bugs lead Tiana, Naveen and Louis through the bayou is a beautifully rendered, acutely detailed delight for viewers. The entire film, in fact, is quite a feast for the eyes, with rich, deeply hued representations of Louisiana, from the lively streets of New Orleans to the inner depths of the bayou.
However, "The Princess and the Frog" does not merely succeed in creating the lovable characters and visually stimulating scenes we have come to expect from Disney. In addition to those prerequisites, the film boasts an independent and intelligent heroine a much-appreciated shift from the vapid princesses (Sleeping Beauty, anyone?) of Disney's earlier days. In refusing to sit and wait to be whisked away by her handsome prince, Tiana rejects the modus operandi of her predecessors.
Armed with the memory of her deceased father's wish to open a family restaurant, the heroine works two jobs to save enough money to realize this dream. In the movie's opening, she returns from waitressing dead tired, with clothing ruffled and hair unkempt and plops onto her bed, only to be roused seconds later by her alarm. Later, while traversing the waters of the bayou, singing with her animal friends, Tiana proclaims "I've worked hard for everything I've got and that's the way it's supposed to be."
True, Disney could not be more obvious in stating this message. But at least this time the aphorism is commendable progressive, even, by previous standards. In "Snow White," our heroine's actions and words extolled the virtues of housework and domesticity, and in "Cinderella" we learned that passivity was the proper path for a princess. Tiana, active and able, is a new kind of princess. Much controversy has been made over the fact that Tiana is the first black Disney princess, but even more revolutionary is her role as a strong female character not merely a pretty face but a talented human being.
