Nobody's THAT Heartless: A New Groove Reflection
For today’s Musing, I want to point at one of my favorite Disney movies: The Emperor’s New Groove.
One of Disney’s first movies of the new millennium, New Groove has gone down in history as one of the most under-respected films in Disney’s animation catalog.
Quick Digression…
See, in my mind, (there may be some bias, as I’m a child of the nineties, but I suspect I’m not alone in this assessment) there are three primary waves of Disney Animation. You have the super-old classics, like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Pinocchio, Dumbo, Bambi, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Peter Pan, stuff like that. I’d even include The Aristocats, The Jungle Book, and Robin Hood. I’m obviously missing some, but you get the idea.
All these pre-1980s films had a certain classic animation quality to them. Though Disney continued releasing movies through the 80s, there seemed to be a resurgence in the late 80s through the entire 90s decade, starting with The Little Mermaid and ending with Tarzan (between which we got Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Mulan, and others). These, I consider as the New Classics. Though I was alive for most of their releases, they still hold up well when compared to the super-olds—some of them even surpassing what considered to be Disney’s best of the best.
It only makes sense, as animation has only gotten better in quality. Around that same time, Pixar began its takeover with Toy Story and A Bug’s Life, and entering the new millennium, Pixar was besting Disney with this new animation style and stellar storytelling.
Eventually, Disney came back with a vengeance: their own computer animated films set to rival Pixar’s success in quality, revenue, and classic-ness. This third wave, I’d argue, started with 2010’s Tangled and only skyrocketed with Frozen.
Why am I telling you all this?
Because right after the end of the nineties, after the end of this second wave that ended with Mulan and Tarzan, we got The Emperor’s New Groove. Groove was released only one and a half years after Tarzan, two and a half after Mulan, but because it was released at the end of year 2000, we were in a new millennium and the nineties canon was closed.
So, when people talk about Disney classics, Mulan is very often in the conversation, as is Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, and The Lion King—all held to equal regard if not higher esteem than the super-old classics, but The Emperor’s New Groove is never in that conversation.
With stellar vocal talents and a creative storyline, you’d think Kuzco would get more respect.
Any time I talk to anyone about Groove, basically everyone agrees that it’s great and deserves to be a classic, but since it’s far too early to be grouped in with the post-Tangled era (which I have no doubt 2009’s Princess and the Frog can make a case for) and it’s a year too late be be twentieth century, it’s just not in the classics conversation.
That’s a shame, because it’s a story we all can learn and benefit from. Believe it or not, this post isn’t actually about why Groove should be held to a higher regard than it is. This post is a reflection on one scene from the movie that we all can learn from.
And it’s not the scene you’re thinking about.
I could analyze Kronk’s character transformation, complete with shoulder angels. I could analyze Kuzco’s journey to humility. I could talk about Pacha’s growing friendship with Kuzco and how that’s connected to how we build relationships of people from different socioeconomic backgrounds than us. I could tell you all about how Yzma’s a cautionary tale. I could even talk about the existence of fate, the hand of God, and deus ex machina in the accidental setup of a giant trampoline.
But no. The scene we’re looking at today is far more relatable…
“Hey, I’ve been turned into a cow. Can I go home?”
No, I’m not joking. Let’s review the background info, shall we?
Emperor Kuzco (in llama form) and Pacha finally make it back to Yzma’s lab. Somehow, through some sort of post-lightning strike secret passageway, Yzma and Kronk are waiting for them. Chaos ensues, and all of Yzma’s animal transformation potion bottles fall off the shelf unlabeled. And the human bottle gets mixed in with the others.
After picking up as many of the vials as they can, Pacha and Kuzco have to run for their lives, while Kuzco tries each one to return to human form. In the course of the chase, accidents happen, and the guards Yzma sends to pursue the emperor each end up transformed into a different animal.
As Yzma orders the guards to continue their pursuit, one of them speaks up.
“Hey, I’ve been turned into a cow. Can I go home?”
“You’re excused. Anyone else?”
“We’re good.”
For many people, this is a funny, five-second joke that surprises audiences with a momentarily self-aware jab at the movie’s silliness. But you know who wasn’t laughing? The cow.
The Cow’s Perspective
Imagine with me.
You’re a guard at the Emperor’s palace. The Emperor is selfish and often times unreasonable, but ultimately you’re thankful to have a job. You don’t want to make any waves, don’t want to get on the Emperor’s bad side, don’t want to throw off his groove; you just want to make a living for your family. Though you’re happy to serve your country, you might secretly wish the person in charge were someone different, but considering the modern culture and political structure, you don’t see that happening any time soon.
But, there’s a change. Apparently, Emperor Kuzco died tragically, and his royal advisor Yzma is set to be empress in his place, as Kuzco has no living heirs.
Now, you’re a little nervous about the change in leadership. Yzma’s never ruled before; can she be expected to do a good job? But the more you hear from her, the more optimistic you become. After all, Kuzco didn’t really do a good job. Yzma’s been an advisor for so long, she’s seen many regimes come and go. Maybe her input wasn’t always valued, but being older and experienced, she probably has a lot of really good ideas she wasn’t able to act on or convince Kuzco to act on.
As time goes by, deep down you’re not sure that she’s doing a good job. It seems like she’s doing better than Kuzco, but she also seems power hungry, and you hear rumors of her lab, where she conducts experiments with black magic. If you try breaking in, you’re one wrong lever-pull away from an alligator!
She ends up disappearing with her personal body-guard and assistant, and when she returns, she assembles all the guards for a special, emergency task. Apparently, there’s a peasant and his biped, talking llama who’s entered the city and broken into her lab, and they need to be stopped at all costs.
Over the course of the pursuit, you see the rumors are true: she does have a lab, and she does have magic, animal-shifting potions. And the talking llama sounds a lot like the dead Emperor Kuzco. And in your run-in with the llama and the peasant, you’ve been turned into a cow.
And that’s the moment you realize you’re working for the villain.
That’s the moment you realize, it isn’t worth it.
The Application
The cow learned the same lesson Kuzco did: Nobody’s that heartless. He’s not a cold-blooded villain! He didn’t choose to be a cow. And he could not continue working for Yzma with the discomfort of reality plaguing his existence.
Here’s the thing. I like to assume the best about people. If you’re working for the villain, that doesn’t automatically make you a bad person. Maybe you were manipulated. Maybe you didn’t know your boss was a villain until you were too late to walk away.
But guess what? You always have a choice. You don’t have to do evil just because your superior told you to. It’s not a crime to do your job and do what you’re told.
But the second, the instant you look in the mirror and see a cow—the moment you realize you don’t like what you’ve become due to the evil you’ve served—you have to make a choice.
And when you make that choice, that’s when you’re forced to take responsibility. Will you allow your hands to be bloodied in the name of another’s expectation of you, or will you wash your hands and leave the villain behind?
~~~~~~~
Just to be clear, this was not inspired by my own experience, and it is not a sideways jab at my job. I actually really like where I work. As for how you should interpret this advice, I’m leaving it vague enough for you to decide.
