Mufasa review: Nepo baby Blue Ivy's debut film is dragged down by forgettable songs and tiresome banter, writes BRIAN VINER
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Rating:. Amazingly, three decades have passed since we first set eyes on The Lion King – the joyous animated musical which reminded us that Disney could still create spellbinding cinematic magic after a lacklustre few years. My children, all born in the 1990s, grew up knowing the words to those Tim Rice/Elton John songs like catechisms. For them, the fruity, baritone menace of Jeremy Irons as Scar defined villainy just as Betty Lou Gerson’s Cruella De Vil, from Disney’s One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961), had for my generation. Meanwhile, Mufasa (James Earl Jones) was a byword for valour.
Those memories of The Lion King were so precious that my children baulked at the idea of seeing the heavily digitalised 2019 remake. Even then, I assured them that it was fun with a hilarious rendition of Hakuna Matata, the song deployed by the meerkat-warthog double-act Timon and Pumbaa to help princely cub Simba forget his worries.
But they would be right to swerve this overblown sequel. Mufasa: The Lion King (dedicated to Jones, who died in September) strains with every sinew to make us feel the love tonight - to paraphrase one of the original song titles. It is impressive and spectacular on the eye, with all those computerised bells and whistles bringing the African savannah to vibrant, exhilarating life. Yet the film, directed by Barry Jenkins (who made the Oscar-festooned Moonlight in 2016), is touched with a spot of leonine laryngitis. Hard as it tries, it never quite roars.