The Disney Sequel Marathon: “The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride” (1998)
By: Dr. Thomas J. West Iii
Tags: Movies, Lion King, Animation, Disney, Film

I distinctly remember my excitement when I heard there was going to be a sequel to one of my favorite films, The Lion King. Though I knew that Scar had perished at the end, it seemed as if they’d managed to create a compelling narrative, one that would pick up the threads from the previous entry in the series while also breaking new ground. When I watched it as a 14-year-old, I was actually quite enamored of it, but as I sat down to watch it as a 36-year-old, I began to worry that it, like so many other relics of my childhood and adolescence, wouldn’t hold up.

I needn’t have worried.

Of all the sequels produced in the 1990s and 2000s, The Lion King II, I think, comes closest to capturing some measure of the magic of the original. Everything from the animation to the voice acting to the narrative and the music is designed to hit the same pleasure spots as its predecessor, even as it also breaks new ground. If The Lion King was Hamlet with lions, then The Lion King II is Romeo and Juliet with lions. It focuses primarily on the young lioness Kiara, Simba’s eldest daughter, who finds herself falling in love with Kovu, one of a group of lions banished to the desolate Outlands for their continuing allegiance to the fallen (and very dead) Scar. Each of them feels the pull of divided loyalties, until they come together in a final confrontation between the Pridelanders and the Outsiders.

It is, to be sure, very much a creation of the late 1990s, as the voices of Neve Campbell and Jason Marsden as the adult versions of Kiara and Kovu make very clear. Just hearing those voices takes me back to the days when the film first hit the video store shelves, when the Disney Channel was still very much a part of my daily viewing. Don’t get me wrong: they do a fantastic job. In fact, it’s largely because of Marsden’s goofball, quasi-hearththrob affect that I’m convinced Kovu is one of those animated animals that turned me gay.

I’m convinced Kovu made me gay.

Fortunately, many of the members of the original cast return, and it’s truly a delight to hear the trademark patter of Timon and Pumbaa (voiced by the brilliant Nathan Lane and Ernie Sabella, respectively). They are clearly having a fantastic time, and their comedic interjections often provide an ironic counterpoint to the operatic drama unfolding around them, keeping things from getting too serious. The late Guillaume is similarly enjoyable as the scoundrel shaman Rafiki, the one who sees from the outset (courtesy of Mufasa’s guiding spirit) that Kovu and Kiara are meant for one another.

The MVP of the voice cast is, however, Susan Pleshette, who tears into the scenery with gusto as Zira. You can tell that she’s having a high-old time in this role, savoring every juicy morsel of dialogue. Though her musical number, “My Lullaby” is a bit too full of cutesy rhymes (an unfortunate tendency in the music for these sequels, I’ve found) the accompanying animation is quite stunning, particularly the finale, which sees her standing atop the tortured and twisted termite mound, her body outlined against a blood-red sky, termites swarming around her. The whole thing is an echo of Scar’s number “Be Prepared,” but somehow it manages to be even more chilling, in large part because Zira dwells with almost prurient relish on the agonies she will inflict, including “the sound of Simba’s dying gasp,” “his daughter squealing in my grasp, “and is lionesses’ mournful cry.” She is not playing around.

The finale of Zira’s musical number, “My Lullaby.”

If any character suffers in the film, it’s Simba. While his journey was key to the original film, here he has become as brittle and uncompromising as any despot. Not only does he refuse to see Kiara as an adult with her own identity; he also has exhibits toxic and xenophobic attitudes toward the Outsiders. In his own way, he’s as bad as Scar, for just as his predecessor had a darkness within him that he could never escape, so Simba remains blinded by his own prejudices and, ahem, scars, from his past. Simba and Zira become two sides of the same coin, and it is only the timely intervention of Kiara and Kovu that keeps the two prides from utterly destroying one another.

Throughout the film, I was rather pleasantly surprised by the quality of the animation. While it doesn’t have quite the intricacy and meticulousness of the original, it often comes quite close, and several scenes are remarkable for their execution, especially the one in which Simba, believing that Kovu has betrayed him, banishes him from the Pridelands. Accompanied by the haunting song “One of Us,” we watch as Kovu is tormented by the inhabitants of the Pridelands, reduced finally to a lone figure wandering in a vast landscape, Simba’s larger-than-life visage glaring down at him in an unsettling echo of Mufasa’s beneficent presence earlier in the film.

Kovu is banished from the Pridelands while a stern Simba looks on.

The songs are likewise fun, though again they lack the sophistication of their predecessors. However, anyone who has heard the strains of “He Lives in You” knows that there’s something surprisingly moving about it, reminding us as it does of Mufasa’s ongoing spiritual presence in the Pridelands. And, in its own way, the song “Upendi” is a splendid little number (I will never forget the glorious sight of rhinos in a conga line). And, of course, there’s the song “Love Will Find a Way,” with its poignant reminder that sometimes love does, in fact, conquer all.

Strange as it may sound, I actually found this to be a philosophically rich and tremendously relevant watch this time around. In some strange ways, Zira has created her own alt-right, quasi-fascist state, complete with rigorous military training and an ethos focused on resentment and vengeance for perceived wrongs. When, at the end, her pride eventually abandons her to rejoin their fellows in the Pridelands, it’s a hopeful reminder that it is in fact possible for a fractured polity to knit itself back together, that the past needn’t determine the course of the future. Sure, it’s a bit too narratively simplistic — and Zira’s death is a bit too rushed to feel as resonant as that of Scar — but I for one am happy to indulge in this sort of animated fantasy, especially given the shattered state that we’re currently living in.

If there’s one thing that continues to puzzle me about this film — and has puzzled me for the last 20 years — it’s the dynastic relationships among the characters. It’s made absolutely clear that Kovu isn’t Scar’s son, but this begs the question: who is? And why would Scar appoint as his heir another male lion’s progeny? For that matter, who is Nuka’s father? (A lot of fans believe, with good reason, that it’s Scar). Even more importantly, what in the world is Andy Dick doing voicing a character in a Disney movie?

The Lion King II is a fascinating look at what straight-to-video sequels are capable of when they manage to thread the needle between naked greed (the obvious purpose for such things) and genuine artistic endeavor. It deserves a lot of credit for showing how even a happy ending leaves scars that need time to heal. In 2020, that’s a very profound lesson, indeed.