A Walt Disney Production: “Lilo & Stitch”

As I recall, Lilo & Stitch was the first movie I ever saw in theaters, or at least one of the first. I was four years old seeing it with my mom and younger sister, and I mostly understood only the basic plot points, but I loved it. That winter was our first trip to Disney World, and when we met the characters, my sister must not have recognized Stitch, because she was convinced he was a monster, and is terrified and sobbing in the photo we have of this encounter. A few years later, her desk was covered in Stitch toys and she never went anywhere without her plushie of him. My mom bought the soundtrack for us, and I can remember a decent amount of car rides to and from school where all three girls would ask her to play “number nine” (I don’t think we even knew the title). It wasn’t until our parents bought an Elvis CD for a Hawai’ian-themed joint birthday party my younger sister and I were having that I discovered he had been the original artist, and his version was rather distinct from the early-2000s teen pop song I was familiar with. We grew up with the Disney Channel series spun-off from the film, and a running gag in its finale Leroy & Stitch, as well as the imitative nature I possessed as a child, caused me to make fun of my dad’s middle name when I found out what the “L” on his monogrammed canvas bag stood for (he wasn’t as amused).

Clearly, like many my age, I’ve always had a fondness for this film, a fact that had some potential to make this article less objective. As I have with all of the films I’ve written about for this series, I tried to have the most critical viewing of it possible. But even as I scrutinized it to the best of my ability, searching for any major flaws or lulls in the plot, I came up fairly shorthanded.

Background

Co-director Chris Sanders created Stitch in the 1980s as the main character of a children’s book. The premise was that Stitch was a creature who didn’t know where he came from, but was living in a forest on Earth where he was shunned by the other animals, similar to the ugly duckling from the story that would later become a motif in the film. Sanders’ pitch for the book was rejected, but he soon started a career at Walt Disney Feature Animation in several artistic positions. At a company retreat in 1997, the idea came about to create “a Dumbo for our generation” in terms of style and budget (Dumbo had been cheap to produce in a time when the studio had been losing money). Some time later, Sanders pitched the film to Peter Schneider, still focusing on Stitch living alone in the forest. It was Schneider’s idea to place Stitch in the human world — originally in rural Kansas, somewhere that wouldn’t draw much attention if an alien landed there. Soon afterward, Sanders made another pitch to the studio heads, having moved the setting to the island of Kaua’i and created a booklet with illustrations so that they would have a better understanding of the visual style he had in mind for the film, as well as see that the aliens wouldn’t be scary for young audiences. This version of the story was mostly similar to the final film, with one major difference being that Stitch was an orphan with a gang of alien criminals. With Lilo having lost her parents and in danger of being separated from her only family, she paralleled the circumstances that had led Stitch to a life of crime. Though this aspect of the plot and the characters that would have been Stitch’s fellow gang members were scrapped, the pitch book laid the groundwork for one of the most stylistically unique films in the studio’s canon.

The visuals provided in the booklet posed a challenge for other Disney artists and animators: they all set out to emulate Chris Sanders’ style of drawing body proportions in a way unlike anything their character designers had developed in the past, as well as objects with soft edges.

Another aspect of the film’s design that was both intriguing and a little daunting to crew members was Sanders’ proposal of using watercolor backgrounds. There was some debate over whether or not gouache could be used instead, as the two media are similar in appearance and watercolor makes it more difficult to go back and fix mistakes, but the gouache concept art didn’t have the effect Sanders wanted with the scenery’s light and dimension. Like the rounded edges on the characters harkened back to Disney’s early designs of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit and Mickey Mouse, the use of watercolors was reminiscent of the art design in Dumbo and, to a lesser extent, Bambi, both early Disney films in which Walt had been trying to mimic the style of a children’s storybook before shifting to more experimental styles and techniques.

Unlike Dinosaur and The Emperor’s New Groove, Lilo & Stitch didn’t have a particularly troubled production. Interestingly, the project was kept secret from the rest of the studio for the first year or so of development, only being worked on by Chris Sanders and his co-director Dean DeBlois (both of whom would go on to direct the How to Train Your Dragon films for DreamWorks), as well as a few visual artists. Sanders and DeBlois felt this would benefit the film by limiting outside input on the script, allowing it to be more tightly written. After this initial period, and discounting a stretch of time dedicated to fixing a second act that the crew saw as being aimless, there were few major story changes to be found. The tall, skinny, and altogether unimposing social worker character Mr. Kalikini was changed to the serious, stocky, deep-voiced Cobra Bubbles in order to add more conflict to his dynamic with Lilo. Tweaks were made following feedback received from test audiences, such as toning down the violence of Jumba’s attack on Lilo’s house, and clarifying from the beginning Lilo’s relationship to Nani (viewers thought they were mother and daughter and were uncomfortable with their fighting).

The sequence that underwent the biggest change late in production was the chase scene at the climax of the film, which originally had Jumba, Pleakley, and Nani commandeering a commercial 747 to pursue Gantu’s ship and rescue Lilo. As expected in a scene like this, there was plenty of maneuvering around mountains and other obstacles, evading lasers fired from the spaceship, and just barely avoiding a crash at every turn. At one point, the plane flies into a city and tears through roads and buildings with its wheels and the end of its wing. The whole scene was properly grandiose for what was at stake in the story, but there had been some argument between Sanders and DeBlois over whether or not the implications of the action onscreen would be too dangerous in-universe, with passengers being on the 747 (which was resolved with a cut to everyone on the flight fleeing in terror from the aliens as soon as they appear), and civilians populating the city that the heroes fly through. Months before the film’s release, the sequence was almost entirely animated, colored, and mixed when the World Trade Center and Pentagon were attacked on September 11 by hijacked commercial planes. After the initial response of shock and disbelief, the production crew realized they would have no choice but to drastically change the scene’s imagery. They cut out the entire portion taking place in the city, two small gags involving Pleakley addressing the plane’s passengers and flipping through a SkyMall catalogue, and changed the computer-generated 747 to another spaceship, as they realized they had not previously shown or stated how Jumba and Pleakley had followed Stitch to Earth.

With all of the larger issues resolved, the film was able to be finished in time and was screened at the 2002 Cannes Film Festival to largely positive reception. Its official wide release followed suit as far as critical response, and Lilo & Stitch became one of the few animated Disney films released in the period following the Disney Renaissance of the 1990s that was both critically and financially successful in its original theatrical run, and maintained its popularity in the following years.

As mentioned earlier, its success led to an animated series that ran on the Disney Channel from 2003 to 2006, starring the same voice actors from the film and bookended by two TV movies, Stitch! The Movie and Leroy & Stitch. Naturally, the show had a far lower budget than the film, but it still boasted nice animation for its medium and funny writing. It was succeeded by an anime spinoff in 2008, simply titled “Stitch!” and set years after the events of the American series, with Lilo now an adult with a boyfriend and daughter, and Stitch leaving Hawai’i and making a new best friend in another little girl living in Japan named Yuna. A similar show premiered in China in 2017, titled “Stitch & Ai,” with the human characters having been replaced with Chinese counterparts. I haven’t seen either of the latter two series, so I can’t speak to their quality, but the anime seems to have been fairly popular, though the Chinese series apparently only lasted one season.

Along with its television spinoffs, a more proper sequel was released on DVD in 2005 titled Lilo & Stitch 2: Stitch Has a Glitch, which, frankly, is one of my least favorite film titles of all time (up there with Ralph Breaks the Internet, excited as I am for that one). This film’s visuals and animation were nearly identical to those of the original, and the main voice cast reprised their roles again, with the exception of Daveigh Chase as Lilo, who was rather distractingly replaced by Dakota Fanning. This entry is funny as well, and has a handful of well-done emotional moments, but some major plot points are contrived and not well resolved.

With Lilo being another Disney movie expanded into a franchise, one might wonder if its popularity is truly deserved. We’re all entitled to our opinions, and there are those who see it as overrated, but upon watching it again for this article, I found plenty to be admired.

Positives

I’d be a broken record in saying that beautiful animation is to be expected from Disney, but Chris Sanders’ influence makes the movie stand out even among such visual triumphs as Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, and Pocahontas. Whether or not it’s more appealing than those is subjective, but its style is both similar to early animation and unlike anything the studio had done recently or would do since. Its watercolor backgrounds and color scheme blend with the foreground animation and characters enough that one element never distracts from the other, and contrast enough that the characters still stand out just the right amount. I was fortunate enough to visit the island of Kaua’i, where the film is set, several years ago, and the gorgeous backgrounds and landscapes in it are probably the closest any painting or drawing can come to doing that environment justice. The excellent animation is rounded out with nearly unnoticeable CG effects. All of the human characters have more realistic body proportions than are typically represented in animated films in general, not just Disney. Most if not all of them have big, round noses and natural looking muscles, including the women, which is rare in mainstream animation. Generally, male character designs are allowed to be more cartoonish, where female designs fit a sort of mold of small waists, button noses, and big eyes. Two recent animated films that exemplify this issue are The Book of Life and Inside Out. The more prominent a female character was, especially if she was a love interest for a male character, the more semi-realistic and conventionally attractive her appearance had to be.

Nani is a main character and love interest to a supporting male character, and is relatively thin for the body types represented here, but she still has a wider waist without a flat stomach or doe eyes. Likewise, the female aliens are not distinguished from their male counterparts by common design features like long eyelashes, but mostly by their voices.

In addition to being designed ignoring some non-vital conventions of animation, every character is dynamic and layered. Lilo is a strange kid who means well and tries to relate to others her age in her own way, but is misunderstood and ostracized as a result. She’s upset by her treatment, but not bitter. She’s stubborn and has some bizarre and eclectic interests, but she never tries to change herself for her peers. The only thing that the adults in her life try to rein in is her tendency to act out, and even that behavior is understandable given her circumstances. Nani is supportive and understanding of Lilo, and tries to be responsible, but is also young and vulnerable, and has fallen into a scary and frustrating situation. Her frequent arguing with Lilo doesn’t so much stem from one of them being wrong, but from both of them not knowing how to communicate their issues.

Refreshingly, Nani’s romantic subplot with David isn’t forced and doesn’t distract from the more important elements of the story. They work well off of each other and have a joking but still respectful relationship. Though he spends much of the film pursuing Nani, David still understands what she’s dealing with and helps her despite her rejections, which, it is made clear, are coming from her simply not being able to put energy into dating anyone, rather than her not being interested and being gradually worn down by his repeatedly asking her out.

Stitch is often painted as not much more than a mischievous comic relief character, but his arc from a mindless destroyer to a more empathetic and emotional being coincides with the two sisters’ conflict in an interesting way, with him realizing that he wants to have a place and purpose beyond the instincts he was created with, and observing how those instincts hurt other people who want those same things. This element is spread out evenly throughout the film with no sudden turnaround for his character, and the parallels between his story and that of The Ugly Duckling make for a smart storytelling device. But even with his development, he’s still a funny character when he needs to be, and this isn’t sacrificed when he becomes a permanent member of the family at the end of the film. He still gets into trouble, but it becomes more well-intended and childlike, making him a great companion for Lilo, who really was the only kind of person Stitch could have found a home with. Any other family in this universe would have returned him to the shelter or never brought him home to begin with, so him being paired with a child who has been lonely for a long time and frequently gets into trouble.

Though Lilo presents some heavy conflicts such as the risk of Lilo being separated from Nani and put into child services and the pursuit of Stitch by his mad scientist creator Jumba and the high-strung know-it-all Pleakley, there isn’t really a villain. The sisters’ social worker, Cobra Bubbles, is sympathetic to what they’re going through, but has to do his job even if it means removing Lilo from the home. Jumba only ever intended for Stitch to be a destructive monster with no real thoughts or feelings, so he doesn’t see capturing him as something with any negative effect, especially with the incentive of his release from prison, and Pleakley is actively trying to keep him from hurting anyone. Even Mertle Edmunds, Lilo’s biggest bully, is only “evil” in ways that many kids are without really understanding the consequences of their behavior, something that they can very well grow out of. The closest the film has to a straightforward villain is Captain Gantu, but one could argue that even he is just doing his job with no evil intent and has no understanding of human life and emotional capacity on Earth, much less the emotional journey that his target has gone on. There are characters you root for more than others, but everyone’s motivations are understandable to an extent. The cast is perfected by wonderful voice talent including Tia Carrere, Jason Scott Lee, and the late David Ogden Stiers, with the former two actors being of Hawai’ian heritage as with their characters. All of the actors and characters work well off each other both emotionally and comedically, with no jarring tone shifts.

Lilo’s Hawai’ian setting not only serves the purpose of having the aliens land in a place that’s not a major city or somewhere that would attract immediate attention, it also easily allows for representation of a culture and people not often portrayed in mainstream film, much less Disney (though they would later return to a Pacific setting in Moana). Though the script doesn’t delve much into the culture itself, it has a constant presence through language and cultural hallmarks such as lei and hula, the latter of which is portrayed in more detail beyond the typical grass skirts and waving arms we’ve gotten used to seeing.

The scene taking place the night before Lilo is to be taken away from Nani shows the two of them trying to talk about what’s going to happen until Nani simply hugs Lilo and sings “Aloha ‘Oe” to her, a song written by Liliʻuokalani, the last queen of Hawai’i before it was forcibly annexed by the United States. This scene, as well as Nani’s earlier remark that the business she’s been fired from is a “fakey luau,” adds a sort of subtextual criticism of the overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawai’i in the 1890s, which led to exploitation and appropriation of the culture by tourists with no regard for the islands’ history and traditions. The two songs that make use of the Hawai’ian language are performed by Mark Kealiʻi Hoʻomalu and the Kamehameha Schools Children’s Chorus, and both are beautiful and distinct from any other Disney soundtrack from the late 1990s or early 2000s. “He Mele No Lilo,” the song that introduces the setting and Lilo herself, is calming and serves as a wonderful opening to the main story. “Hawai’ian Roller Coaster Ride,” its far more popular companion, is fun and complements the surfing montage in the second act to both add levity and progress Stitch’s character arc. The Elvis tracks are also fun, and an emotional score from Alan Silvestri makes several pivotal scenes hit a little harder.

“Show, don’t tell” isn’t a strict rule in filmmaking per se, but there’s a reason it’s so encouraged as far as exposition and emotion are concerned. I didn’t realize it fully until I watched the movie for this series, but one of the things Lilo & Stitch excels at most is visual storytelling. Its expressiveness and framing propel the story to the point where the most important narrative beats could be understood without hearing any dialogue. When Stitch first appears, he’s in some kind of containment tube, and he spends the majority of the film’s opening causing trouble while authorities try to exile him. Lilo is introduced swimming in the ocean, then running to her hula class, still dripping wet, after stopping to take a picture of a tourist, something that is clearly a routine for her. Her instructor’s expression when he sees that she’s late tells us that this is a habit of hers, though we haven’t heard her reasoning yet. It takes some time for her backstory to be explained, and when it is, it’s not in explicit terms. We know that she and Nani are living on their own and having a difficult time, as well as that Lilo is also something of a troublemaker. Her motivations, though, are made clear from the beginning: she has no friends and is emotionally traumatized, and doesn’t know how to process it. We can easily put it together from brief imagery and lines of dialogue that her parents have died.

With Stitch having limited speech, much of his communication to the audience relies on his reactions and expressions. His initial devious nature is shown through the classic furrowed brow and smirk and the occasional maniacal laugh, while his curiosity and eventual desire to truly be part of a family is shown through more calm movements and sad features like droopy ears, along with attempts to imitate the mannerisms of the humans around him.

As the title would suggest, Lilo & Stitch, at its core, is about the connection between the two titular characters. One would think Stitch would want nothing to do with a little girl and vice versa, but their similarities show through more and more as the film progresses. Both are missing a sense of acceptance, it’s just that one of them doesn’t know it at first. By the time the third act starts, they’re both at the same level emotionally, though their relationship is at its lowest point. This is cleverly conveyed through one of my favorite sequences in the film, in which Lilo is about to be taken to child services and Nani is arguing with Cobra Bubbles, shown primarily through Lilo’s and Stitch’s perspectives. The former already knew this was a possibility, but can’t quite resign herself to it, whereas the latter seemingly struggles to understand fully what’s happening, though he realizes he’s caused pain to the very people he had just started to bond with.

Of course, this is a Disney film, so despite its tragedy, there is still a happy ending. The resolution, with Stitch being allowed to carry out his exile on Earth with Lilo and Nani, doesn’t feel like a cop-out and properly ties together all of the major character arcs and plot threads, making it feel earned. The film culminates in a montage of the now expanded family’s new life, closing it out on a high note with endearing and funny send-offs to each character and a final image that cements the emotional themes, a satisfying sight after the characters have gone through such heavy experiences.

Negatives

At this point, it would be redundant to say that I adore this film, and it was genuinely hard to find any big flaws in it. I had some nitpicks: the brief moment of live-action footage in an electronics shop window was confusing, I don’t know how Jumba and Pleakley didn’t attract attention just because they were wearing everyday human clothes or how Nani was making a living wage waiting tables at a tourist trap luau, and a few of Stitch’s abilities aren’t really explained (namely him acting as a speaker for Lilo’s record player). David and Gantu are by far the least interesting characters, but that’s not saying much. David is still likable, and Gantu simply doesn’t get that much screen time so that the focus can stay on the main cast. As for bigger issues with the story, I personally didn’t find any. The ones I do have are more behind-the-scenes.

Though Daveigh Chase gave an excellent performance as Lilo, she was a white person voicing a person of color. However, in this case, it isn’t really her fault, seeing as she was herself a child when she played the role. On the directors’ end, I doubt it would have been incredibly difficult to find a Hawai’ian girl who fit the role just as well, seeing as they were later able to do so with the titular character in Moana, and kids of the same race as their characters were cast in Up and Coco over at Pixar.

The running joke of Pleakley dressing as a woman to disguise himself likely had no malicious intent behind it, and the fact that the other characters don’t judge him for it is somewhat nice to see. But this being played for laughs more so than Jumba dressing as a mustachioed man just makes it another instance of the misogynistic trope of a man acting and dressing effeminately in which the punchline is that behavior and clothing attributed to women are inherently demeaning to men. I’ve certainly seen it done more obviously and much worse, and several of the jokes regarding it are relatively innocuous, but the underlying implications remain the same.

Final Thoughts

While I watched the film, I found myself at times getting too entertained by it to write down notes for this article, though that only kept me from commenting on specific scenes like I have with previous films (in almost every case, none of those notes even go into the write-up). The story is emotionally investing, with serious conflicts that aren’t watered down, but are presented in a way that kids can understand well enough, and come to understand better over time, as I have. Looking at movies that I’ve grown up with from a more critical perspective has given me some pleasant surprises at just how smart they can be. They have their problems, as all films do, but it’s nice when I find that I have far more good things than bad to say about them.

Lilo & Stitch was released in a period where Disney was being more experimental with their visual styles and subject matter. Fantasia 2000 was a follow-up to an acclaimed work of Walt himself, granted, but its use of updated technology mixed with traditional animation made it unique when it was otherwise written off as a subpar attempt to recreate the original from 1940. The Emperor’s New Groove was a rarity from the studio, being a straightforward comedy rather than a fantasy-adventure with some comic relief peppered throughout. Atlantis and Treasure Planet were both ambitious sci-fi films with high stakes and mature personal conflicts, though they weren’t always successful in what they set out to do. Even Dinosaur, for all its forgettability, was historic for Disney Animation and offered some stunning landscapes in a medium with only a handful of feature-length films under its belt at the time. Lilo perfectly fits not only this group of features, but the landscape of cinema overall.

Originally published at miseensense.wordpress.com on May 31, 2018.