On Screen: Watching Encanto as a Colombian American
Encanto was on everyone’s lips in 2021 for a different reason - but if “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” didn’t reach your playlist that’s okay, to me it’s not even the highlight of Encanto’s true magic. The Disney movie musical shares the story of the Madrigal’s, a charming Colombian family who hold special powers and help their community through good deeds. Encanto is a celebration of a country and its people that aren’t often seen as the main character in a non-derogatory way. I’m Colombian American and my parents immigrated in the 80s and 90s to seek better opportunities, eventually meeting in New Jersey and falling in love. Their struggles and their distinct love have always been the DNA of our small family. From an early age, I was taught to be proud of my roots but I was only ten years old when a classmate tried making a joke to me about Colombians and cocaine, something they had seen on screen before. It was an early painful and awkward experience that embedded in me how quickly a person could associate this negative stereotype and history of violence disguised as a casual joke. The connection of what we see represented on screen in television and film bleeds into what viewers internalize about other individuals. The roles and storylines on screen for the Latinx community have slowly been improving, but we still have to fight to be seen as more than the stereotypical roles of maids, gangsters, cartel lords, and eye candy. For further clarification, Latino is a term referring for anyone of South American decent but in the US. So though the family in Encanto aren’t Latinos but they represent the story of so many Latinos in the US. Encanto humanizes the violence that Colombians have faced by giving them the lead in the story and grounding the plot in the family dynamic.
Mirabel's Abuela, Alma, the matriarch of the family, is central to the film and its through her eyes we see a reimagining of the Thousand Days' War, a very important part of Colombian history. The Thousand Days War was a three-year civil conflict in Colombia that resulted from years of severe political unrest and the implementation of the country’s 1886 Constitution. During this time alone there were an estimated 60,000 - 130,000 deaths in the country on top of extensive property damage, economic ruin, and displacement. Abuela has to flee her town on horseback with other villagers while carrying her three young children, including Julietta, Mirabel’s mother. Her husband, Pedro, tragically dies during this displacement but through that pain arises the miracle of their magic. Displacement is part of that experience for Colombians with over 8.3M Colombians leaving their homes (to relocate elsewhere in the country or altogether exiting) since 1985 citing violence as the main reason. Colombians value their home and families so greatly because of the distinct violence in their history. To create authentic storytelling, it is important to respectfully acknowledge the full spectrum of a community’s experience if you’re featuring them.
A very special part of the Encanto production was the intention to build out a group of specialists – including historians, anthropologists, biologists, and botanists who were dedicated to the movie’s details in order to best honor Colombians and our culture. This distinct love and intention that was woven into the film came through so beautifully for those who could notice the details.
Yellow butterflies soar across the screen paying ode to author Gabriel García Márquez while the Abuela and Mirabel stand in Caño Cristales, a real multicolor river that runs through the province of Meta
Colombia’s mountains, rainforests, valleys, and farmlands hold close to 10% of the world’s biodiversity. This results in a variety of diverse ecosystems that feature incredible flowers, plants, and distinct animals, some of which are exclusive to the country (think Antonio’s room!)
The Quindío wax palms, the largest palm trees in the world, tower over the little town where the family lives, making the world feel as magical as Colombia actually is.
Agustín Madrigal, Mirabel’s dad plays, the first notes of "En Barranquilla me Quedo” by Joe Arroyo, a beloved salsa song on the piano to resume the family party after Mirabel interrupts it.
Seeing the Madrigal family on screen feels like seeing the reflection of my family and so many others that have bonded through the harsh realities of immigration, displacement, and years of trauma. Mirabel and her sisters show the effects of perfectionism and self-sacrifice for the family - they’re exhausted, stressed out, and worried about their casita. The joys and struggles of the “all hands on deck” mentality seep through the foundation of the Madrigal family, literally reaching the casita’s core. When the family unit struggles and their magic falters, the center of what unites them starts to break apart. In my life, there have been times that I’ve put my family first, felt guilty for resting instead of working, and fought imposter syndrome. And I know that those times will come again because I’m a first-gen Latina and this is my reality. In multigenerational households, the younger generation reaches a point where they stand on their own, challenging what they've grown up with and how their family lives. Encanto ultimately shares this but with a colorful story and some musical hits.
Mirabel strives to balance contributing to her family and helping them thrive while also being true to herself. While she doesn't possess superhuman power, the love she holds for her family gives her the ability to go on a journey she never thought would be possible. Love and optimism are key themes to the central anthem of the film “Dos Oruguitas” sung by Colombian singer Sebastián Yatra. The lyrics of the song talk about constructing your future one day at a time, even if there’s no path in front of you. In so many ways, it honors the strength of Colombians who have faced so much, but stay with love and hope in their hearts. Because my parents are my connectors to it all, I waited to see Encanto with them to have the full experience. To see them react so earnestly and enthusiastically to this animated film, pointing out the details in real-time, made me see how badly people of all ages, not just young people, need to see positive portrayals on screen of their culture. It’s inspiring to look on the screen to see Latinx faces singing, helping others, and eventually strengthening themselves as a family. It’s inspiring, fun, and speaks to family dynamic and generational trauma in an approachable way.
Stories that deserve to get told find the spotlight when people who believe in them reach positions of power.
In animation, there should be no excuses for the lack of diversity and I’m so grateful that Encanto exists for everyone to see, but especially for Colombians and Latinos to have something so colorful, heartfelt, and relatable to watch and connect with. I’m sick of seeing the country’s lush landscape only used as the background for the media that glorifies and glamorizes the villains and lifestyle that has only hurt the country and its people. It’s significant that a mainstream mega publisher like Disney has represented Colombia on screen in a beautiful manner it deserves to be in. There were however, no key Colombians in the key roles of writer or director and this also shows the continual need for minorities to have ownership over their stories. Encanto adds more to the story and contributes to more visibility of South Americans on screen in American media where we are a minority. Animation is a beautiful playground for the imagination and I only hope to see the continual exploration of culture, identity, and community in this art form. I think Encanto is a great step forward in representation, especially in animation. Encanto’s critical success and popularity with the audience has reaffirmed what so may already know - diverse stories on screen will sell and resonate with so many people.
Kim Hoyos is a queer Latina filmmaker based in Los Angeles and originally from the garden state. She’s currently the Jr Studio Production Manager at mitu and is the founder of “The Light Leaks”.
Passionate about representation in media, Kim strives to create spaces on screen and behind the camera for women, BIPOC folks, and the LGBTQ+ community. She’s explored her creativity with directing, writing, and producing her own short films available for online viewing as well as producing and editing digital videos for brands including mitu, The Mujerista, Aloe App, Adolescent Content, and more.