My Dad is the Lion King Spoilers

Remember who you are.

The first time that Blockbuster opened its doors, my dad picked us all up from school and drove us to the plaza to show us the cool new blue building filled with movies. We didn't step foot inside, but he promised he'd take us in on a Friday for movie night. That is how the tradition of family Friday movie nights began. It was a sacred event, the unwavering light at the end of every dark week. For my dad, a perfect example of a non-toxic family man who genuinely loves spending time with us, these Fridays were the perfect outlet to reconnect and recharge after a long, difficult week at work. For me, these nights became foundational for my love for storytelling.

Let me set the scene:

On a dark, humid Friday night, the air hovers with the relentless chirps of crickets and mosquitoes, four young children step into their sneakers and follow their parents outside to the driveway. Their excitement is an electric field of chatter and laughter. The van door rolls open and the children are shepherded inside and buckled into place. Music trickles through the radio, but mostly, the conversations take over. What movie will we watch? Voices grow. Plaintive complaints. Barbie. Catch that Kid. Batman. Nobody comes to any agreement.

By the time the van rolls into the lot, everyone is laughing about something else. Dad invokes a rule: Five minutes to go explore the aisles and come back with a film. The game is afoot.

Inside, the AC blast is a shock to the skin. The pale fluorescent lights add a grayish sheen to the blue decor inside. The kids disperse quickly, leaving their parents by the counter.

The aisles are narrow and suffocating. There is a scent, unlike those of a bookstore but familiar, quieter, of fresh buttered popcorn and new carpet floors, that fills the air. My eyes land on a Barbie Princess movie. So does my sister's. We come to an agreement naturally. The rest of us have a mind of their own. One sister decides Bratz is better. Our brother drags in a Cars movie that none of the girls want to watch. A debate ensues to no avail, so we bring the goods back to the counter to present our cases to the judge.

Just as we come to a reluctant agreement over one of the movies (obviously my movie because as the eldest sibling, I was a little, tiny dictator), my dad's head turns to the rotating rack sitting just beside the snacks table. On the second shelf, The Lion King sits in all its glory. My dad takes the DVD box and shows it to us.

My brother is an easy contender to sway. Lions, fighting, and kings? Count him in. My sisters, too, abandon all princess loyalty when it comes down to it. I, however, am the rock in the mud.

I was ready to sing my heart out to "I'm just like you" in Princess and the Pauper; the lions on the front cover did not appeal to me at all. But then, I glanced at my dad and my reluctance immediately faded. I still remember the glint in his eyes, that uninhibited excitement to be a part of this evening, to share this movie with us; it's one of the main reasons this movie means so much to me.

What's a motto with you?

To this very day, the longstanding joke between Pumba, Timone, and Simba has my dad cackling. That, let me tell you, is a feat. Not that my dad's stoic or anything, it's just that few jokes hit him this hard. That line is ingrained in my head because of the sheer amount of times my dad quotes it.

It's one reason why this movie slaps. The humour in this exists for both children and adults, which makes it the perfect family watch. Unlike Barbie or Cars, which I know my dad would probably fall asleep midway watching, The Lion King had his full attention. He locked in. When the songs started playing, he even joined in on the singing, which is a huge ask from him. "I just can't wait to be king" was belted in that living room, not just once, but on multiple occasions.

Rewatching it really does change the experience of the movie. In adulthood, I realized just how much went over my head (just like with Shrek).

My memory of the movie was so much more different than it actually is. I mean, the movie is dramatic and depressing, but, it's a lot funnier than I remembered. It also really does feel like watching a Shakespearean play, which, obviously, I had no idea of when I was younger.

As a kid, what mattered more to me was how bright and lively the movie felt. There were so many visual cues and movements that kept my attention on the story, like the use of colour, shape, and sound to establish emotions, mood, and character identity. I was absolutely fascinated by how each element overlapped and harmonized with one another. For example, when Mufasa dies, Simba's loss felt so much more visceral because of how the artists dulled the vibrancy of the colour, the elongated orchestral strings in the background, Simba's broken "Dad, wake up" dialogue. Every time I watch it, I feel that the animation itself is able to create a tactile experience. Like when Simba eats the slug for the first time, I wanted to gag, that's how real it felt.

Growing up, I wanted to be able to create stories like that, too. I started becoming more attuned to the way artists and writers utilize different mediums and forms to create environment and evoke sensations in the viewers. It's something I really do appreciate now in older animations from the 90s, like The Lion King. There is so much intentionality behind the shapes, colours, and forms which helps create memorable characters, like Scar.

In fairness, my dad loved Scar because he was voiced by the famous Jeremy Irons, but for me, the storytelling is what did his character justice. Scar is such a unique villain purely because of how over the top his performance is and that dramatic black and green colour affiliated to his character. Think of his plotting and scheming songs; they stick because they feel slimy and evil. Every flame shape, the way his movements are drawn, and the music that plays when he's on screen, emulate that sliminess, giving viewers a visual representation of his personality without having to spell it out. That's what this movie gives it's viewers; a tangible, emotive experience. A bonding moment with your dad.

In hindsight, I wonder if my dad knew this movie was going to be so dad-oriented. I wonder if he chose this movie to hammer down our appreciation for our relationship with him. When we finished that movie, we were all super emotional, and although my dad would never admit or show it, I know he was teary eyed as hell. In any case, it worked.

So, yes, whenever I think about The Lion King, I think about my dad. I think about the late Friday nights watching the movie together, munching on snacks. I think about car rides quoting and singing songs from the tracks. I think about the random backyard bbq sessions when my dad would quip "What's a motto with you!" and laugh at his own joke. I think about how the dramatic, remember who you are, line has followed me across oceans and years. And, if the movie isn't clear enough, I'll claim it here: I'm my father's kid.

Go watch The Lion King. Thank your dad. Hakuna Matata.