4 anti-oppressive-narratives out of 4
I never thought the day would come when I’d feel unqualified to write about the lived experiences of a Disney rabbit, but with Zootopia, that day is finally here. The use of the word rabbit instead of bunny, and the utter lack of stereotypical descriptions of said rabbit as “cute,” or “adorable” are purposeful. It must be stated that I’m not really sure who I’m trying to avoid offending, but it genuinely feels exploitative to comment on the rabbit’s appearance.
Bryon Howard and Rich Moore’s Zootopia is a film about a fictional world in which animals have evolved past their need to indulge in their base instincts. Together, they live in harmony in an animal utopia. As characters within the film’s universe repeatedly explain, the City of Zootopia is a place where anyone can be anything. If that message of inclusivity is too explicit or too overt, I suggest avoiding this film. It is a movie that almost perfectly transcribes modern social justice issues onto a framework of anthropomorphic animals. The end result often feels excessive—such an assessment, however, is not a criticism of the film.
[pullquote align=”left” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]…stay for its refreshing dissection of oppression.[/pullquote]
To call Zootopia’s message of inclusivity unrestrained would be to ignore the fundamental message of humanity and acceptance at the core of this film. Make no mistake, the film’s central theme borders on sermon. However, for a 21st century world that still fails to accept that equality and equity should be fundamental rights for all humans, Zootopia is a refreshing look at what an equal world could look like. More than just posturing, Zootopia is the rare film that actively attempts to unify its intended audience, while simultaneously instilling positive social values through its dialogue, characters, and premise.
Telling the story of officer Judy Hopps—the aforementioned rabbit—Zootopia is a neo-noir, hardboiled detective story under the pretense of a movie about socially conscious, talking animals. As the newest recruit at the Zootopia Police Department, Hopps’s biology—as a rabbit, not a woman—causes her superiors to assign her to parking duty. Surrounded by elephants, polar bears, rhinos, and big cats, Zootopia makes a point of showcasing Hopps’s diminutive nature.
As Hopps attempts to prove herself, arguments for and against women in combat roles come to mind. Unlike the human world, however, gender has little to do with one’s social position in Zootopia. Instead, animals are prejudiced based on whether or not they are traditional predator or prey animals. Much like in the human world, the seemingly larger, seemingly stronger, seemingly more dangerous animals are leaders, while seemingly smaller, seemingly weaker, and seemingly meeker animals are regulated to marginalized roles. Zootopia might be a progressive world, but it’s clearly a universe that functions according to preconceived hierarchies.
For a moment, I must voice my prejudices. There is a strong argument to be made against a rabbit policing a city filled with animals who could otherwise swallow her whole. Thankfully, Zootopia rises above these base assumptions by showcasing the manner in which predator and prey animals can undermine expected biological roles. Officer Hopps might be small and highly edible, but her speed, wit, intelligence, and—quite frankly—moxie, make her an invaluable part of the force.
Shifting away from gender politics, Zootopia makes a sustained effort of tackling oppression across a range of demographics. When the big case forces Hopps to work alongside Nick Wilde—a smooth-talking, shifty, and sly fox—Zootopia attempts to tackle prejudice against social groups that stereotyped and marginalized without considering individual characteristics.
Wilde is a walking menagerie of fox tropes. He’s cunning, tricky, sly, and his personality is clearly constructed from a history of marginalization due to biology beyond his control. When we finally see what makes Nick tick—when he finally reveals that he acts the way he does to fulfill society’s expectations of his species—it’s not difficult to think of the seemingly infinite examples of black, Asian, and Indian Americans forced to acquiesce to social pressures, in order to regain a sense of agency and identity.
Zootopia is, without a doubt, the least subtle film about social justice released this year. It makes no effort to hide its concerns about gender and ethnic politics. In that same vein, however, the film takes great pains in dismantling traditional notions of accepted and acceptable behaviour. It’s a film concerned with proving that equality and acceptance are possible, and it’s an incredibly entertaining feature film to boot.
In summation: Watch Zootopia because it’s an incredible neo-noir thriller, but stay for its refreshing dissection of oppression.