Every era has to come to an end, regardless of its cultural or historical impact, since this is the very nature of viewing the past as a series of extended moments, which can be compartmentalized in various ways based on the influence it had on the future. Starting sometime in the late 1980s, the Walt Disney Company had a string of films that were embraced by audiences, adored by critics and were some of the most financially viable works the famed animation studio had ever released, and may still view this period (appropriately titled as the Disney Renaissance, and viewed alongside the Golden Era of Disney that occurred between the 1930s and 1960s) as containing some of the most fascinating and brilliant works produced by the company. We are all in agreement that it was The Little Mermaid that started this period, but the work that brought it to a close is still a subject of debate, with the most common answer being between The Emperor’s New Groove and Lilo & Stitch – and as fond as I may be of the Dean DeBlois’ wonderful Hawaiian friendship comedy, the final film produced during this era was the former, with Mark Dindal’s masterful, eccentric and heartfelt comedy being not only a peak for the studio but one of the first truly astonishing animated works of the 2000s, an era that saw so many wonderful films produced across many different companies, each one proving that animation is far from just a genre targeted at children. I’d even go so far as to say that The Emperor’s New Groove is the last truly great film that Disney made on its own (excluding its collaborations with Pixar, which is another conversation entirely), a controversial but still strong opinion that many tend to share, at least in terms of looking at traditional animation, and how it encapsulates a very distinct era of the medium. One of the final true peaks of this period of animation, The Emperor’s New Groove is such a delight, it seems almost inappropriate to even level any criticism on it, because while there are rarely perfect films, this is certainly one that rapidly approaches it, with incredible fervour and an abundance of meaningful humour.

The journey taken by The Emperor’s New Groove from page to screen is a long and harrowing one, and takes place over nearly a decade, with everything from the traditional tinkering of the plot and fine-tuning of details to the overhauling of the entire production, which took it in a completely different direction – it is not an easy process to discuss, since there were so many factors that went into the creation of the film (to the point where there is even a documentary made on the film’s production, which unfortunately does not show the process in a particularly favourable light), but it is important to note that the path this film took to completion was not particularly smooth. However, if there is one positive aspect that can be found, it is that this was a labour of love for all involved, which is reflected in absolutely every frame of the film – we don’t often find films that are so thoroughly committed to exploring these themes through such wonderfully eccentric and earnest means, but this is all part of the charm of this project, which was made by a group of artists who genuinely believed in the merits of the work itself. The Emperor’s New Groove is a truly collaborative effort, and it shows in every frame – there is a soulfulness that pulsates powerfully throughout the film, capturing every detail with so much vigour and charm, it is bewildering to imagine that the major studio animation would become lifeless as time went on, since we have clear examples of the perfect balance of high-concept storytelling and gorgeous filmmaking, the two polarities existing in perfect harmony, never overlapping in a way that is distracting, but rather having a thoughtfulness and authenticity that instantly makes The Emperor’s New Groove so compelling from its very first moments, which is quite an achievement, especially since the process is all about finding the hidden nuances lurking just beneath the surface and making them appear as they belong there, rather than being placed in such a position where it feels like it was trying to stir a reaction.

However, as tempting as it may be to position The Emperor’s New Groove as some massively ambitious undertaking (which is certainly very true), there is something much more intriguing about how this film explores its terrain, which is all done to be wildly entertaining, to appeal to all audiences. The film strikes the perfect balance between juvenile humour and more adult-oriented satire and even manages to have a crossover between the two, where younger audiences will begin to catch onto the more satirical elements, while the more mature viewers will feel that giddy sense of joy that comes with a perfectly-placed moment of off-the-wall humour. The film is gorgeous to look at, but what really ties it together and makes it so entertaining is the writing, which is especially impressive considering the story that was being told was radically different from the one that was intended, back when this film was still called Kingdom of the Sun, a far more sombre and epic title that may have been a stark departure from the easygoing, straightforward buddy comedy that we ultimately received – and while anyone would relish in the opportunity to see a company with this level of artistic resource explore the history of the Inca Empire, as well as the cultural nuances that surround them, it may have prevented us from receiving this absolutely delightful and perpetually entertaining comedy that never takes itself too seriously, but instead offers meaningful insights in places where they may not always seem to make sense, but yet still have enough ambition behind them to be perfectly appropriate, especially for a film that never aimed to be much more than we saw on screen, and instead strove to accomplish a very simple task as well as it possibly could, and I doubt there is anyone that would view The Emperor’s New Groove as anything less than a resounding, meaning success when it comes to be style and substance.

Part of the charm that defines The Emperor’s New Groove is the voice cast hired to bring these characters to life. Disney has always had a particularly strong reputation when it comes to bringing talented actors to their productions, and they reached the apex with the eclectic cast employed in this film. David Spade does some of his best work as the titular Emperor Kuzco (especially in the more tender moments), while John Goodman is the heart and soul of the film, his voice simultaneously forceful and comforting in ways that we have all come to appreciate throughout his four-decade career. However, the two true stars of The Emperor’s New Groove (insofar as they carry the most cultural cache) are Patrick Warburton and Eartha Kitt, who took relatively one-dimensional villains in the form of Kronk and Yzma respectively and turned them into bona fide cultural icons. Warburton had been doing solid work for decades (and continues to do so), but it was Kitt who received a second wind to her legendary career, her voice performance here being arguably the funniest of the past few decades, which is especially impressive considering how she was already a legend of the entertainment industry, with her iconic timbre and distinctive cadence elevating the character beyond any of the enormous expectations levelled against her. It’s a masterful, hilarious performance that is seemingly without any flaws, while still having a liveliness and authenticity that elevates it to a remarkable level of complexity. It is so assuring to know that an icon like Kitt has a dedicated group of devotees in the younger generation that was introduced to her work through this film and will undoubtedly continue to earn an even larger group of admirers as more people encounter this film, which carries so much more meaning through her spirited and charming performance, which ties the film together in ways that I don’t even think the filmmakers realized at the outset.

Nearly a quarter of a century later, The Emperor’s New Groove remains one of the peaks for the Walt Disney Company, and for the entire medium of animation. It is a stark reminder that sometimes the most simple films are the ones that make the most substantial impact, and linger with viewers the longest. It isn’t difficult to understand why this film has had such a vast cultural footprint – not only is the filmmaking beautiful (with both the landscapes and character designs being distinctive and instantly iconic), but the humour is sharp and perfectly calibrated to give every user something valuable and entertaining, and the writing is as precise as it could be, considering the long journey this film took to the screen, which entailed many story changes over time. It is difficult to know whether the film that was originally commissioned would have been better than the one we eventually received, and while it is always entertaining to theorize about these ideas, it is entirely pointless, since The Emperor’s New Groove is incredible all on its own, which is a fantastic turn of events for a film that has rarely (if ever) been out of fashion, striking a chord from the very beginning, and proving to be one of the more endearing comedies of its era. Not only is it a great piece of animation, it is a superbly well-made film, a beautifully poetic story punctuated by wall-to-wall humour, which has remained so fresh and invigorating for over two decades, which is an incredible accomplishment for any film. To this day, and after dozens of rewatches, I still find something new to appreciate in The Emperor’s New Groove, which is a film that wears its heart on its sleeve and is willing to focus on the emotions that matter. It is a charming, hilarious and heartfelt film that has more vivacity and valour embedded in it than many other works of animation, and remains one of the genre’s absolute peaks.