With Disney’s ongoing streak of disappointing live-action princess remakes, it might be time to ask why these films keep falling flat. One of the most talked-about examples is the 2020 live-action Mulan, which made just $69.9 million worldwide despite its $200 million budget. While COVID-19 definitely played a role, the movie also faced major backlash from audiences around the world. The original Mulan was special to many viewers, especially as Disney’s most prominent Asian character—with a story that stood out for its values and emotional depth. But the remake felt like a completely different movie. So, what went wrong? Without debating whether Disney should remake its animated classics, this review focuses on three key reasons why the live-action Mulan failed: it changed the genre in a way that weakened the emotional impact, offered mixed messages about female empowerment, and overlooked two core ideas from the original—that Eastern heroes are defined by virtue, not supernatural power, and that Mulan’s real struggle wasn’t becoming a hero, but being recognized as one in a world shaped by gender bias.
[Loss of Reflection]
Compared to the original 2D classic—which truly delivered a few iconic musical numbers—the live-action remake removed all the songs, opting instead for a more historical tone that aimed to portray realism and the brutality of war. But this choice, especially the loss of music, is one of the film’s most significant missteps.
Why? In the animated film, Mulan’s inner struggle is a core part of the story. Her doubts, courage, and vulnerability are intertwined in her songs. Through music—especially “Reflection”—she builds an emotional connection with the audience. The lyrics speak to a silenced voice:
Who is that girl I see
Reflection, Mulan
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don’t know?
Somehow, I cannot hide
Who I am, though I’ve tried
When will my reflection show who I am inside?
Songs like these weren’t just catchy; they gave Mulan space for self-expression in a world where she wasn’t allowed to speak freely. At home, she’s the obedient daughter; at war, a soldier in disguise. The music gave voice to what she couldn’t say out loud.
What made the original so powerful was its portrayal of a non-conforming individual navigating a rigid, patriarchal society. Mulan’s struggle wasn’t just against enemies—it was against the expectations placed on her because of her gender. The remake, however, glosses over this. Without the songs or meaningful introspection, Mulan is no longer a symbol of defiance or inner conflict. She becomes a character we watch rather than truly understand.
By stripping away her emotional expression, the film loses the heart of the story. The director’s attempt at historical realism ends up clashing with the emotional depth and nuance that originally made Mulan resonate—and that’s why the remake ultimately feels inconsistent and hollow.
[Mixture of Elements]
Beyond the issues with storytelling, the film’s shift in tone and added elements made the plot feel messy and confusing. The addition of magical figures like the “witch” and the phoenix was meant to emphasize female empowerment, but instead ended up feeling out of place and unnecessary.
One of the biggest changes was the introduction of Xianniang, a powerful woman with supernatural chi who fights for the Rouran army. She’s meant to be a mirror to Mulan—both are women with strong chi, rejected by society. Xianniang tells Mulan she can’t reach her full potential unless she stops pretending to be a man. In the end, she sacrifices herself for Mulan as a symbol of female solidarity.
But Xianniang’s character creates several problems. First, calling her a “witch” doesn’t make sense in a Chinese cultural context—the concept of “witch” is a Western term that doesn’t belong in this story. It oversimplifies the challenges women faced in a patriarchal society and adds a fantasy layer that feels disconnected from the film’s supposed historical tone.
Second, Xianniang’s message doesn’t support Mulan. She challenges Mulan to “stay true” to her female identity and warns Mulan about the consequences, but that just shows how little she understands Mulan’s motivation. Mulan isn’t fighting for personal glory, but to protect her father and bring honor to her family. Xianniang, who fights only for herself, doesn’t represent true empowerment for Mulan. Their only connection is that they’re both women, but the movie tries to force a bond between them that doesn’t feel earned.
Another important thing to note is that Xianniang’s existence makes Mulan’s story less significant and logical. While Mulan was supposed to be constructed as this character who breaks through social norms, Xianniang’s character proves someone has already done it before her. If someone like her already exists, then Mulan is almost just another version of the same character. It takes away from what made Mulan’s journey special. Xianniang’s addition is therefore not only distracting but also quite unnecessary.
And then there’s the phoenix, which replaces Mushu. While it’s supposed to be a symbol of Chinese culture and family guidance, it ends up being a random, unexplained figure that shows up now and then without any real meaning. The movie tries to be realistic and serious, but then adds fantasy elements that don’t fit, creating a confusing mix.
In trying to modernize and “empower” Mulan, the remake ends up losing the very things that made her powerful—her quiet strength, emotional depth, and cultural roots.
[Misinterpretation of Mulan’s Character and Story]
Now for the big question: what is Mulan truly about?
To Disney’s credit, the live-action remake recognized that Mulan’s story isn’t just about gender—it’s a hero’s journey. The problem is, it redefined heroism through a Western lens. In the 2020 version, Mulan is portrayed like a classic superhero: born with a supernatural force, hiding her identity, and destined to save the world—much like Superman or Batman. But is that the kind of hero Mulan was meant to be?
The original animated film gave us a different answer. It laid out a clear standard for heroism in a traditional Chinese context: to be loyal, brave, and true. These qualities, along with the deeply rooted Chinese value of filial piety, defined Mulan’s character. She wasn’t just one of those things—she was all of them. And because virtue is genderless, she was the hero of the story. Yet, despite her courage and sacrifice, she was still condemned as a traitor simply for being a woman. The original film subtly asks: Can true virtue rise above societal bias? And by the end, the answer is a triumphant yes—Mulan earns honor not through might, but through moral strength.
This is what made the original so powerful. Mulan didn’t win because she was the strongest, and, in fact, she had clear disadvantages in a male-dominated world. She won because of her wisdom, determination, and moral clarity. This groundbreaking message inspired girls around the world, but the 2020 remake changed that by giving her magical strength, ultimately telling us that to be a hero, Mulan had to be physically equal—or superior—to the men.
In trying to “modernize” the story, Disney missed the very heart of what made Mulan special. The remake lost sight of the cultural values and emotional depth that made the original resonate. Maybe it’s time Disney reflects on why its classic 2D films became timeless in the first place—and why sometimes, less is more.