My Little Pony: A New Generation - A Review [SPOILER HEAVY] · 6:44pm Sep 24th, 2021
Spoilers Ahead
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Part One: The Calm Before The Storm
I don’t think many people expected a new generation of ponies to arrive only two or so years after the fourth had ended. And notably, not one that feels quite unique compared to the ones that came before it: a 3D animated feature-length film set an uncountable number of years after G4 had ended, featuring a new cast of characters and locales.
Of course, the announcement was met with more than a few bits of controversy and concern. I would say that the most pressing came in response to the fact that this generation was to be set in G4’s future, and moreover, that it was meant to be a kind of “continuation” of that world. Now, I speak of “continuation” with some degree of uncertainty due to the ambiguous nature of that word, both prior to the film’s U.S. release, and now afterwards. To call something a continuation sets several stakes—it places a certain pressure on the thing itself, to both live up to the first, and to do something different with itself, so as to set itself apart enough to not be a direct sequel.
There were, I cannot fail to mention, more concerns: some believed this film, by its very premise, destroyed the legacy of G4. There were some who believed that because of the film’s desire to still be set in Equestria, that it was an example of lazy storytelling—that something original and new would be better. Some believed, as leaks and images spread throughout the internet, that it would be, in the least of terms, “very bad.”
I go into this film today with a few unfortunate incidents in the back of my mind. I’d been spoiled to at least one major development, and while I was able to avoid greater leaks such as the storybook one that had circulated some several weeks ago, I still felt a great amount of trepidation. What little I knew, or what little I’d been spoiled, told me that this film was going to be contentious. Fans, new and old, would be divided—though, as I’ve noted in previous blogs, that’s always the case.
I believed that in viewing this film, I would need to consider more than just whether or not I “liked” it, per se. That would be something I’d figure out by the film’s end, but now, as I write this response/review, I note that such a reaction feels wanting. It isn’t enough for me to “like” or “dislike” something of this nature, because my personal bias as a fan of G4 affects my ability to distinguish to what degree I like or dislike this for what it is. I again circle back to the question of calling the film a “continuation,” and would therefore invite the reader to also consider what it means to call something that in the first place.
That said, I’ve decided that, in order to better accentuate my thoughts, to give both my personal take and taste, to provide a critical first-impression of the film that is both thought-provoking and considerate of the medium, the series, and my own beliefs about the craft—I’ve decided that in order to do all of these things, I would keep a few essential questions in the back of my mind, which I seek to answer. These are:
1) To what degree is the film connected to G4?
2) To what degree is the film able to stand on its own?
3) To what degree does its legacy impact the experience of viewing it?
4) To what degree does the film lead into its own series?
And of course I will take into consideration all the other elements of storytelling and craft that I know, that I have discussed and written about in various blogs, essays, and story reviews. I must consider, as well, the plot of the story; the characters; the execution in relation to premise; and undoubtedly several other specifics, which I cannot state here readily, but which will come about as I think and write more about it.
It should come as no surprise, then, when I say that what lies ahead is spoiler-heavy writing. While I will try and avoid specifics if I can, the nature of what I write requires a degree of specificity that is not beholden to hiding behind every spoiler tag. I would advice that those who read this text, do so after viewing the film, and come to their own conclusions regarding it.
That said, let us see what My Little Pony: A New Generation has to offer.
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Part Two: G4’s Legacy
I will begin by attempting to answer the first question I posed: To what degree is the film connected to G4?
As leaks and as the story’s premise have already told us, this film is meant to be a “continuation” of the events of G4. But it is not a sequel in the slightest. To clarify: a sequel, by conventional definition, continues the story or develops the theme of a previous work. That is to say: it at least cycles through familiarity territory, be that character, plot, overarching themes, and so forth.
You will note that this is not an exact definition, and I believe that is because classification is inherently difficult when it comes to art of any sort. It is easy to say that Star Wars: Episode V is the sequel to Episode IV—it deals with the same characters and themes and continues much of the larger plot of that episode. That, after all, is what George Lucas intended. It is also easy to say that The Legend of Korra is a sequel—in many ways, a direct sequel—to Avatar: The Last Airbender. For while new characters and focus abound, the overall story continues many of the themes of the first. In fact, I would say that TLOK actually considers many unanswered questions regarding the themes of ATLA: namely, what need has the world for an Avatar, if the world seems to get along fine without one?
But note: I use that word, “continues.” I do so very deliberately. Fundamentally a sequel must continue something of the original. But wouldn’t a continuation do the very same? For sure. Then: why am I saying that A New Generation isn’t a sequel and shouldn’t be considered such? For that matter, why do I question the use of calling it a “continuation” in the first place?
Conventional literary circles and standard dictionaries tells us very little as to the differences between these terms. One must rely, realistically and perhaps disappointingly, on their own instincts. In my case, mine tell me that a continuation is a sort of softer form of a sequel. Only some familiarity can be found. We may liken it to calling something a “spiritual successor,” or at least saying that a work is influenced by a previous, somewhat separated one. Video games abound with such a term, but so does literature: one may read Ralph Ellison’s The Invisible Man as a continuation of some of the themes of Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick, but not as a continuation as all of the themes. For one, TIM is written by an African-American author, about an African-American man. That kind of combination of context is drastically different than MD, where a white man writes about, at the very least, a “white” captain.
What ties those examples together is a theme about man’s presence. TIM even has a little epigraph from another of Melville’s works at the start of its prologue, but if one read MD and TIM side-by-side, one could argue that the latter’s first and second chapter are almost written as though they are re-presenting MD’s first two chapters, just from a modern (by TIM’s modern standards; it was 1950s), African-American perspective.
Therefore, I argue that My Little Pony: A New Generation is in a similar vein, though it is arguably much closer to the generation before it than TIM is to MD.
We see this in the film’s opening most explicitly: a fun 2D animation briefly re-introduces us (and for new fans, introduces) to the Mane Six, post, it would seem, Season 3. I can’t say for certain if it’s the original cast speaking, but the appearance of such characters, as well as name-dropping G4’s “theme” of “friendship,” does, at first, tie G5 closely to the foundations of its predecessor.
That is quickly discounted when the “Rarity” suddenly becomes threatening, and attacks the other ponies. The “Twilight” starts to protest, only to be silenced, and we cut to the present, where it is revealed that this is some kind of game—in the vein of dolls and action figures—that Sunny Starscout, Hitch Trailblazer, and—to my surprise—Sprout are playing together.
This opening act is the most explicit with its connection to G4, but it appears to be the film’s only explicit moment. Some nods here and there do abound, either in image references, line call-backs, and so forth, but the G4 era is little more than the memory—the pseudo-memory, I should say—of one Sunny Starscout, whose hope pivots and wades through the deep and dark recesses of a new generation that has long-since forgotten what the former one did and meant.
In this manner, I believe that the G5 film is loosely connected to G4. Twilight and co. barely get mentioned beyond that opening act, and vague references to what they did—and I do mean vague—are the best that we get.
But this does not mean that the film is completely disconnected. I argue that the film’s premise—that Sunny wants help bring ponies back together again—shows that it’s still tightly connected to the original, enough, I further argue, to feel like not a half-assed connection.
By this, I mean that the premise shows us that G5 recognizes the legitimacy of G4. In fact, it operates in response to G4. The whole reason Sunny goes on her adventures is because she knows G4 happened, and she recognizes that she could try and bring it back. That, to me, is not “shitting” on G4’s legacy or mocking it. If anything, it shows that the legacy is woven between the lines of the film, and is, in fact, part of the identity underneath.
It is neither a shadow that parades around in a thin skinsuit of G4, nor is it a rambunctious, disjointed attempt at profiting off of the nostalgia of G4. It’s connected enough, I believe, to call itself a new generation indeed—it is new, and yet, it is not so new as to be disjointed, nor is it not so connected so as to be unable to spread its wings on its own.
This pretense is all to say: the degree to which the film is connected to G4 is enough for old fans to enjoy some of the callbacks (provided those same fans are not so elitist or under the premise that they should “gatekeep” G4 from this new one), and to show that it recognizes from which it sprung.
Part Three: G5’s First Steps
Naturally, this leads into my consideration of the second question: To what degree is the film able to stand on its own?
For that, I must break the film down beyond its legacy to G4. I must consider its plot, its characters, its execution, and so forth.
Plot
To some extent, the plot of the film is predictable. As at least one trailer said, the goal of the crew—the Mane Five—is to retrieve a set of crystals. They hope that doing so will restore magic to Equestria. This allows them to go to the three central locations of the film: Zephyr Heights, Bridlewood, and Maretime Bay.
Therefore we would expect a kind of formula to the plot—though the experienced writer should know that formulas are easy to adhere to most plots, and therefore, judging a work on whether or not it meets that formula, or if it has a formula, is poor thinking. What matters is the execution of the story and whether or not the story’s premise—its stakes—are reckoned with appropriately.
So, what are the film’s stakes?
Obviously, there hangs in the balance the question of whether ponies can come together again. And the question of whether magic will be restored. But as we dive into the film, we also unearth another bit of stakes: what if Sunny’s wrong? What if ponies can’t overcome their differences and be friends again?
We are also aware, as Sunny’s aware, that not only is there something wrong with the world, that that something seems facilitated by the very same lie it perpetuates. The pony races view everything else as direct threats to their safety: earth ponies fear that unicorns can read their minds or zap them into comatose states; unicorns fear that pegasi are all rough and violent—and at one point in the film, one character, Alphabrittle, explicitly says that pegasi always think they’re better than unicorns; pegasi fear that earth ponies are all dumb brutes—so on and on. As I said, it’s all a big lie, one that Sunny knows deep down in her heart, but one that she cannot, on her own, unravel.
And I note that there is another premise that seems to fuel much of the film’s theme. It concerns the status quo, and also safety and truth. Songs expressly state such terms, as do many of the characters: I was particularly struck by how Zipp Storm considered letting pegasi find out the truth about the royal family a good thing, while her sister, when that truth is revealed, considers it a bad thing. So does, in fact, their mother. More on that later.
These premises inform our understanding of what the film sets out to do. The quest is not just to find those crystals and get the magic back, but also to see if the truth of things can be revealed. If it can be accepted that there is something dangerously wrong about the state of the world.
Now, I must, of course, consider that this is a “kid’s film.” While I am not fond of ascribing power or authority based on the “genre” of a piece, it’s worth noting that nonetheless. These premises are described in both explicit and simple terms, and therefore do not really have as much nuance as, say, a more “adult” piece.
This leads into one of my main criticisms of the plot: it has a lack of subtlety. The themes are hammered home from the very beginning, and continue to get hammered home. I’m unclear as to the film dumbs them down, though, so much as the film wants to suggest over and over that these are the things it’s about. It’s good for kids, I suppose, but it toes the line between “teaching” and “directing.”
A lack of subtlety also informs the film’s “antagonist.” I say that in quotes, however, because what the film at least does well in this regard, is not set up an antagonist from the start. No clear character is the actual “enemy.” In fact, one might argue that that’s part of the point at the beginning: there are no enemies but the ones we ourselves make in our mind. However, the film does initially suggest that the character of Phyllis will be the antagonist at the end—her design, mannerisms, and several hints of characterization suggest she is antagonistic towards, at the very least, Sunny. In this way, I was actually pleasantly surprised that “Karen” wasn’t “Karen.” I’ll talk more about that characterization in the next section, of course.
But by the time that Hitch goes after Sunny, we learn that the true “antagonist” is actually going to be Sprout, who, placed in the suddenly vexing powerful position of “Sheriff,” lets all that power go to his head and declares himself “Emperor of Maretime Bay.” It’s a rather ludicrous thing, but perhaps that’s kind of the point—it’s over the top for entertainment’s sake. Still, what irks me about that development is that it’s explained by a song that literally contains a line about how everypony should, more or less, take up arms and not do any kind of thinking on their own. (I’m pretty sure the song is called Angry Mob). That definitely isn’t subtle. It’s overt. But I almost want to think it’s specifically overt because it’s to suggest that it’s so stupid, it’s funny. And to some degree, it was. It just wasn’t as strong as we might expect were we to suggest that this film has a “true antagonist.”
When the film, therefore, reaches its final act, it’s hard to look at Sprout as anything but a weirdly underdeveloped antagonist—not even really a worthwhile “obstacle.” He plays the role of a final boss without playing the role well—however, it’s clear that the film needed a “plot element” to raise the final act to its dramatic degree. A character made more sense than anything else, I suppose.
My other main criticism of the plot is that the pacing didn’t help it all that much. In short: it’s far too quick. Developments occur rapidly and move onto the next one without giving us much of a chance to breathe. Conflicts are presented, and get some degree of work put into them, and indeed are resolved, but not all of them feel “solid” enough. This is especially true of some of the slight bits of tension between characters, though notably, the tension between Hitch and Sunny is perhaps the best written of its kind.
However, this is a criticism that applies, weirdly enough, to the film’s halfway point and final act. Everything before that feels actually really well-rendered, and not too rushed. The beginning, especially, had a beautiful sense of pacing to it—doing enough to establish the world, Sunny’s conflict, and get the character to go on her adventure. (I also reflect on the nature of musicals—that plot development and pacing are affected considerably by music numbers. This film has its fair share of songs, which do attempt to bridge gaps between plots, though not to complete success.)
Of the film’s final act, though, I have to say, despite being spoiled, I… enjoyed it. My gripes with the pacing aside, it actually did something really cool: it subverted some of the premises.
The film had proposed this idea that the thing, or things, that would bring back the unity of Equestria, were these magic crystals. We learn that there’s one between each of the tribes: one for the pegasi, which is the first crystal gotten, one for the unicorns, and one for the earth ponies. Of course the film deals with the characters’ attempts to retrieve these crystals, but as it was doing so, I worried that the moment the crystals came together, the film would end.
To my surprise, it didn’t. For one, the film had Sunny think that the magic was tied only to magic ponies—unicorns and pegasi. Therefore she endeavored to retrieve the crystals of those two races. But she didn’t know that there was a third. Now, meta-textually, I know that, we know that, from G4, but it’s such an interesting thing for the film to show that Sunny was wrong in that regard. Were I a non-aware fan, I might have been surprised to learn that the earth ponies, who do not seem to have any magic, contributed to the return of magic, through magical means.
That final crystal is, in fact, found in Sunny’s lighthouse—in a toy her father made her long, long ago. You would think, then, that that solves everything—it’s only a matter of bringing the crystals together. But as we see, even when that happens, nothing happens. There’s no magic rainbow finish. The crystals, on their own, do nothing; and so the falling action begins.
Still, the magic has to come back somehow. And it does, of course, at the film’s end. But it’s not through the crystals—it’s through the ponies themselves.[The destruction of Sunny’s home leads to the three leaders (as it were) of each race to come together and offer Sunny their sympathy. And that triggers the crystals to actually activate.
And this, I believe, leads into the film’s main argument: choice. That is: the choice to choose friendship, or more explicitly, as Sunny states, to choose love (and therefore all the good things that come with it).
Such an argument sets this film’s theme apart from its predecessor. It’s not love of the romantic variety, but love, it seems, of the platonic variety—one that is different, but still very beautiful. It’s love shared between friends and between family—between people. We are all of one tribe, to paraphrase Black Panther.
Now, I know that some fans might find this dumb. It’s definitely on the nose. But I would argue that it makes sense, given one subtle piece of plot: Sunny’s dad is dead. Or, at least, missing. Sunny, therefore, is an orphan. She’s alone. Yet she holds onto the hope of friendship, and perhaps even the hope of love, in a non-romantic sense. Something about that resonates with me, and I must admit, it likely isn’t out of objective reasons—but, come on, G4 was Friendship is Magic. Maybe G5 is supposed to be a bit on the nose, here.
And I must also recall something I saw in a few images on Instagram—promotional material. There was a Friendship Day post from the official MLP account that read something along the lines of how family is who we choose. A found family, then. Now, doesn’t that strike one as pivotal, given Sunny’s status?
She had to leave her home, a home that doesn’t take kindly to her, to find friends—to find a family to fill the gap her father left behind. She had to choose to forge ahead and look for that kind of love. It’s not the crystals. It’s her decision to not be lonely anymore.
My belief is that the film’s plot’s theme is about the importance of choice: the importance of getting to choose if we want things to stay the same, or if we want things to be better. And therefore, we get to choose to believe in something better. This is to say, the film is about hope. And fitting, considering that Sunny’s attribute, as leaked sometime ago (I use “attribute” loosely) is Hope.
It is not a perfect plot, though, and it still falls into the footfalls of kid films: poor pacing, a lack of real conflict with consequences, and similar things. But, it is not catastrophic. I think the theme and how the film presents it through the story help shape a fairly concrete shape. It’s still a bit wavy, a bit uncertain, of course. We don’t learn everything nor resolve everything. We don’t know where those crystals came from, what happened to G4. We certainly don’t learn why the ponies separated again in the first place. But that concern isn’t critical to the film’s premise—in all likelihood, it’ll be the concern of the series, hopefully.
Imperfect though it is, it has its share of good things, too. Do not go into this movie’s plot thinking it’ll be as tightly woven as something like Spotlight (incidentally, my favorite movie) or as mind-vexing as Inception. But I think if you approach it as a fun story with a good message, you can see that the hurdles it faces aren’t all that big. They don’t get in the way.
Characterization
If the plot was filled with its fair share of flaws, the characters… well, I actually think the characters are the film’s strongest point. Which is good, because to me, G4 wasn’t defined by “story” so much as having characters worth watching.
G5’s cast of Sunny Starscout, Izzy Moonbow, Hitch Trailblazer, Zipp Storm, and Pipp Petals are just wonderful to watch. Each are distinct enough in both design and personality, and play off each other in a surprisingly natural way. Sunny is perhaps my favorite of the bunch, followed closely by Zipp and then Hitch.
The film’s other characters, while certainly not taking up completely ample roles, also feel fairly well-defined. Queen Haven, Alphabittle, and Phyllis, as leaders of each of their tribes, were fun to watch. And none actually become the true antagonist, as I’ve pointed out previously. They are still obstacles that the heroes need to overcome, of course, but they aren’t villains.
I also enjoyed how the three tribe leaders operated under the same faulty premise that governed their fears: that the other tribes had powerful magic that could hurt them. Once Sunny reveals to them in Bridlewood that, in fact, nopony has magic, that premise falls apart, and they are left wondering what it was that they believed for so long. It even makes the fake conflict-resolution of bringing together the pegasi and unicorn crystal feel more impactful, as the tribe leaders see Sunny’s hopes shatter. No doubt that influences them to come running after the others who end up also running after Sunny at the film’s end.
Moreover, these characters were funny. The film’s humor is played almost exclusively through character interactions, and these interactions are definitely worth a couple of chuckles. None of that humor felt cringey to me or out-of-place. Compared to, say, the humor of the G4 movie, I found this one to be a little less “ugh.”
These characters also allowed for what was my favorite scene of the film, which I will call the chat by the fire. All five characters sit around a fire. They talk. They, in the case of Izzy, express uncertainty as to what will happen after they’ve restored the magic. And they grow closer, when Izzy reveals that the whole reason she set off for Maretime Bay, was that she received a letter saying she’d have friends there—a letter that Sunny wrote when she was a filly. In the end, when the group recites the saying that Sunny and her father used to say to one another – “We’ll do our part, hoof to heart” – it feels like the group has managed to come together. They are resolved to keep going, and to try and see things through.
I point to this scene for one other reason: it developed Hitch the most. There were hints that he would become the character who has to change the most from the very beginning, as he’s caught in a conflict between what he believes and what Sunny knows is true—which he himself cannot admit, at least explicitly. He doesn’t hate Sunny or find her annoying, though her antics do cause a lot of trouble. He’s friends with her, for sure. But the portion of the plot devoted to his tracking her down operates as it does because he goes after her as though he isn’t her friend—that he doesn’t understand what she’s doing, and that it would all be better if she came home.
When he realizes that he won’t be better, and that, furthermore, Sunny’s hope isn’t a bad one, it makes his “turn” stronger, too. He’s the first to admit, I want to help, too. He’s the first to say, “I want to do my part.”
Hitch, of course, is Sunny’s oldest and only friend in Maretime Bay—so perhaps this transformation holds more credence than I can express.
That said, though I enjoyed the characters, I did have concerns that were not, I feel, fully addressed. For starters, there were hints of conflict between Zipp and Pipp, but that is a conflict that isn’t resolved so much as it’s pushed temporarily aside. It may probably come up in the series, but it’s hard to ignore what’s a clear conflict of interests. I would be remiss not to admit that I would liked to see how Zipp responds to Pipp’s prestige—if she does at all—but I understand that the film didn’t have the room for it, and wanted to focus on the group’s overall interaction. In this vein, I may argue that the upcoming series will focus on the group’s individual interactions—or at least, I hope so.
To put it another way: I acknowledge that advanced characterization that isn’t a cut-out won’t be found here. But the framework for it is, and moreover, there’s enough frame here to at least make these characters come alive.
One concern I heard going in was whether Sunny would basically be “earth pony Twilight.” I don’t think she is. She’s smart, sure, and curious, but seems a bit more immature. Her optimism blinds her. She’s hopeful, but almost to the point of naivete, and that is both endearing and childish, to some extent. Put another way, she’s distinguished enough to, perhaps, be a successor to Twilight.
And yet there will inevitably be one final parallel to Twilight which the fans will fight over. At the end of the film, when all the magic is restored, Sunny… becomes an alicorn. This was the plot point I was spoiled on, and which stewed in the back of my mind as I watched the film. The “rules” for alicornhood have never been concrete, so I was not worried with if this development “broke the law,” but I was worried as to whether or not I would think that Sunny deserved to ascend. That is—did she struggle to overcome the challenges in order to justify a physical change?
That’s hard to quantify. For, while Hitch changed the most, Sunny didn’t change too much. While she did revise her initial argument that magical items would bring magic back, her optimism kept her going—she never lost that. On one hand, that’s a bit static—for shouldn’t all characters change? But even that’s a faulty premise, because there’s no necessary rule that expressly says static-ness shouldn’t be a thing. Moreover, characters are not governed by scales of change so much as they are governed by their ability to inhabit their stories. So on the other hand, it’s almost admirable that against impossible odds, Sunny continues to hope. If that’s her defining characteristic, then it is most assuredly defined.
And, to somewhat answer the first question, did Sunny deserve this, well: bringing back all of the magic to Equestria is a worthy thing to do.
But in a general sense I do not think Sunny should have become an alicorn. I do not think the film needed that particular kind of transformation, though it seemed geared towards, at the very least, some kind of spiritual or emotional one. And the fact that the film ends with Sunny becoming one sets up a question for the series: Is she going to stay one?
But if she is or isn’t is irrelevant in the context of the film. And I didn’t enjoy the character of Sunny Starscout because of how she turned out, but because of how she is. And that can be extended, I think, to the other characters I did enjoy.
And, I did enjoy every character, which is a bit strange for me to say. Even though I pointed out that Sprout just… wasn’t great, it seems purposeful that he was depicted as such. There’s some degree enjoyment I can take in that. Every character felt memorable, had some distinction, and were entertaining.
Though it sucks that we didn’t get to see more of Captain Tuna, the seagull dude, AKA the best fucking character design in this movie
Part Three: Denouement
What we have here is an interesting meta-textual conflict. On the one side: the film’s plot isn’t the best. But on the other side: the characterization is pretty darn good. Given this tension, I believe I can attempt to answer my final two questions: To what degree does its legacy impact the experience of viewing it? ; To what degree does the film lead into its own series?
To answer the first, I believe it’s necessary to reflect on G5’s film predecessor, G4’s own movie. That movie encountered mixed reception from fans and critics alike. My own view is perhaps also a bit contentious: it was all right, but not anything great. Passable, but only just.
In part that’s because that film struggled under its own weight of legacy. In order to be a standalone film, it had to stand alone—but it couldn’t do that when it had already established characters and an already established world. While this would be addressed on the show itself, the movie did not do a great job of handling how to integrate new viewers and old ones.
It’s particularly why a common consensus is that the film felt simultaneously “crowded” and “thin,” especially in regards to its characters. The Mane Six take center stage, but the film wavers between having them all contribute and having itself focus on Twilight (arguably the film’s best-rendered protagonist between all six). As such, those characters feel thin even when they shouldn’t given the show itself—they feel closer to Season 1 caricatures than fully-fledged, six-season veterans.
In that movie, the strongest character interaction was between Twilight and Pinkie and their argument scene. But some argue that that was wholly out-of-character for Twilight.
I bring this up not to judge G4’s movie again, but rather to point out that it also struggled with its own legacy. I believe it would be unfair to ignore that when considering the matter of legacy, especially in regards to A New Generation.
As I’ve established, though, it’s a different weight of legacy that the film deals with. Equestria is the same, yet different—it is familiar, yet strange. It has, in a word, evolved. For good or for ill? Well, the film says the latter, but we won’t know for certain until we see the series.
In this manner, though, I believe that, unlike its predecessor, this film doesn’t suffocate under the weight of what came before. There’s enough “room” for it to stand. It breathes, if awkwardly, but it breathes. It also doesn’t really, as some fans have argued, ruin Twilight’s legacy, since, by the end of the film, it kind of resolves that legacy anyway. But aside from a tongue-in-cheek reference here and there, the film still manages to have a story, and to have characters, who do not fall under the shadow of the former protagonists. They do not, also, take their place un-rightfully. They, in some ways, are successors to the Mane Six, but not as one succeeds a throne—rather, as one parallels those who may or may not have come before.
As I argue that the film’s strength lies in its characters, I believe this is fitting. It continues G4’s focus on characters but it does not require that a viewer have ample knowledge of G4 to enjoy these characters; the plot might as well have the same observation.
Legacy impacts the film only in the sense that the brony fandom will know these references and feel confused or interested—either or—at seeing them, but I believe that the film does not use G4 as a crutch or as a substitute. To me, it was interesting enough, valid enough, lively enough—it was authentic and accessible enough to appeal to beyond the brony community. And that, I believe, is incredibly important going forward, as that will fuel how the series is received.
But to what degree does the film lead into its own series? That, I think, relies on the many unanswered questions. Why did the magic disappear? Where did these crystals come from? What happened to the Elements, the Pillars, the Princesses? Will Sunny stay an alicorn? This, however, does suggest some worry, for such unanswered questions fundamentally position the series as having to deal with the weight of G4, in a manner that the film does not. That will be perplexing to deal with.
But also, that will be something to be dealt with in the future. I believe that such questions, at the very least, allow one to get interested in hearing what the upcoming series will be about. I’ve heard it might be about exploring a changed Equestria and the world beyond it, but I haven’t had anything confirmed.
Part Four: What Lies Ahead
So, who is this film for?
A few rumors have surfaced suggesting that the crew behind the film have closely been observing the fandom’s response to various leaks and reveals, and that they are very much interested in seeing how we view the film after its release. So perhaps the film was designed for us?
And yet that doesn’t seem right. If it were, there’d be more references, and we’d encounter the problem of legacy within the story that doesn’t appear as apparent as worries might suggest.
Is the film for a wider audience? It is, in part, but also an audience who may or may not have any idea what G4 was.
We can scratch our heads all day long, but I think the answer is quite simple: it’s for a new generation. It inherits the old but embraces the new. I believe we should think that a good thing and not be bitter about it. For things change, and we must move on, and time goes, and life goes, and we, also, go along with it.
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My experience with film and film critique is, surprisingly, rather thin. I don’t watch a lot of movies. I don’t study filmmaking techniques, and I, though I am working on the script to Elements of Justice, do not plan on writing scripts on my own. My interest in writing, as I am sure many can see, is almost exclusively in traditional prose, with the occasional bites of poetry here and there.
As such I cannot judge the film as a film critic, because I am not trained as one. I can only judge it as I interpret and experience it—as, essentially, a simple viewer. Though I do claim to know a bit about what a story is—what literature is—this doesn’t change who I am, or what I like.
I recognize my biases. I was hopeful for this film despite my worries and doubts. I also did not like the mindset of some fans who bemoaned the film’s existence from the very beginning. I found that distasteful and dishonest, and rather toxic. I found that to be just poor criticism, and therefore, a source of annoyance. So perhaps my experience was an unintentional reflection of such thoughts.
But that’s how the consumption of art usually is. As Barthes observed, the consumer’s own context fuels their understanding and experience of a work—it is the same with books as it is with paintings as it is with movies. My context, therefore, should be considered just as valid as any other.
But of course, in the end, we must ask the essential questions: Did I enjoy this film? Was it worth the wait?
To both accounts, I answer: Yes. I did. More than I thought I would, but certainly not enough to call it the best thing. And I cannot say that the film is as good as G4. But I would also argue that such a comparison is inappropriate, given that it’s not even the same medium. And I’ve already made my comparison to the G4 film—a comparison, no doubt, which will turn some heads, raise some eyebrows—perhaps even a few pitchforks here and there. Fans are fanatics, after all, and I cannot claim not to have gotten upset at a few dissenting opinions.
But, I suppose… for all the worry and doubt, all the catastrophyzing, the demonizing, the trepidation, the confusion, the anger… for all the many ways this could have gone wrong, for all the many reasons why this film could have been an absolute shitfest… I can’t say that it, at all, was what people feared it would be.
It’s fun, is what I’m saying.
And that, coincidentally, is how a lot of us view G4—not as some holy artifact (I would think), but as something fun. And that is all right.
Very good review. I loved the movie but I know it has it's flaws. I didn't like how Sunny's dad is either dead or missing. That was bullshit in my eyes. Izzy is my favorite character and the songs to me were all hits and no misses. All in all. It was a very good film and I am eager to see more of G5
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I was definitely surprised to see that implication about Sunny's dad. But I didn't think it was necessarily bullshit. It was an interesting, subtle turn.
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When I say bullshit I mean we have a cool dad that doesn't shun his daughters creative mind and way of thinking and then the next scene. Poof. Dead or missing. He was a cool character and It's a shame to have him gone. I didn't mind him being gone cuz it gave Sunny a more firm reason to spread the word of peace and love... I mean Friendship and Understanding.
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I see! That is definitely a valid point, one that I failed to consider. Yeah, it's nice to see an actually good dad in a story - especially in mlp, where dads aren't always portrayed the best.
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Yeah. But honestly it's a minor gripe I have and didn't get in the way me enjoying the film.
Wow, this is a comprehensive analysis to hammer out so quickly. And I agree for the most part, so good job.
Also I had no clue you were working on EoJ! Big fan of that project.
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When inspired, or perhaps, when under the duress of immediacy, I work very quickly, lol. Glad you enjoyed! And yeah, I've been on EOJ for almost two years now, I think. I work as one of the writers and musicians. Surprised to find a fan here!
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The original Turnabout Storm is what actually got me into MLP in the first place. So yes, I am very much a fan.
Having just finished the film myself, I found your review an insightful read.
I agree with many points, in particular the pacing. The beginning of the film is so wonderfully paced right up to campfire scene, that when I looked at the time remaining at that point I grew a little worried knowing the rest of the story would be crammed in. However, the film has wonderful storytelling elements which are well done, in particular the little details such as Sunny's picture frame, the use of color, and of course character quirks.
I am in your camp that Sunny should remain an earth pony. Perhaps it is my own bias towards earth ponies, but I would like to continue to see them as the protagonist species because it is an excellent subversion of trope in this franchise (and other fantasy franchises, for that matter) that magic equals strength and leadership.
Excellent review as always. (Also, how the hay did you write that much so fast
)
Yep. You've covered just about all the thoughts I had while watching the film.
However, I did struggle with the musicals. They were enjoyable, but I couldn't help thinking, "I can't sing along to this." Now, I am not a vocalist, but I'm as apt as any theatre major to hum my favorite songs in the shower. In retrospect, so much of G4's music was relatively simple. Anyone could sing along with Daniel Ingram's work, which is magical in sense, because it's also just so darn good—whereas this movie had a soundtrack of generic pop that sounds as if it was composed specifically for Spotify. It's an impressive display by everyone involved with the songs' production, but I'll take inviting over impressive every time.
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True - the songs weren't exactly memorable as I might have liked. That said, I'm a fan of Vanessa Hudgeons's voice, and I definitely enjoyed Sunny's songs.
Unless, Hudgeon did not sing for her?
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Like I said in a previous comment, when inspired, or under the duress of immediacy, I work magic.
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Oh, absolutely. I haven't forgotten how big High School Music was when I was younger. Vanessa sang for Sunny as far as I'm aware, and it seems like the the years haven't dulled her talent in the slightest. If we get to hear more of her singing in the series itself, I'll be a happy camper.
Again, my issue is less with the talent on display and more with what those skills were directed towards—making music that is catchy, but much harder to sing along with.
After seeing it, I have a question:
We don't know what happened to Sunny's home. Did it remain destroyed, or did it get repaired off-screen?
I honestly see no problem with Sunnycorn. Some say its permanent. Others say it's a temporary thing. Honestly, I'm hoping it's an on/off thing Sunny can't control yet. Her horn and wings were not truly physical things if you pay attention.
With Izzy, Zipp, and Pipp, they've always had them. Useless as they were for magic. Which does raise a question of how long its been since G4 ended in this universe.
If it's been as long as it looks, why haven't horns and wings atrophied down to unusable even with magic, or disappeared entirely? Something fishy going on there methinks.