Snow White
Rating – ** (2/5)
Cast: Gal Gadot, Rachel Zegler, Andrew Burnap & more
Directed by: Marc Webb
The legacy of live-action remakes continues to be a curious conundrum—one that Disney, despite repeated missteps, seems intent on unraveling in the most questionable of ways. Their latest endeavor, Snow White, attempts to breathe new life into what is arguably their most iconic animated feature, a task both ambitious and precarious. From the moment this project was announced, the decision itself felt like a gamble—one that, in execution, only amplifies the skepticism surrounding the very necessity of such adaptations.
With Rachel Zegler stepping into the eponymous role and Gal Gadot portraying the Evil Queen, Snow White leans heavily on the star power of its leads, hoping their on-screen presence might counterbalance the inherent flaws in the film’s conceptualization. However, instead of enhancing the storytelling, this reliance on casting choices only exposes the film’s underlying issues—chiefly, its inability to commit to a definitive vision.
The fairy tale of Snow White is one woven into the very fabric of fantasy and nostalgia, thriving on the whimsy of its antiquated imagination. When adapting such a fable, filmmakers have only two viable options—either embrace its old-world charm with unwavering conviction or craft a bold, transformative reimagining that justifies the departure. Unfortunately, director Marc Webb does both and neither at once, resulting in a film that exists in an awkward limbo, failing to evoke the enchantment of the past or the innovation of the present.
Take, for instance, the film’s opening sequence—an utterly baffling choice that sees Snow White’s origins being tweaked in ways that not only add little value but actively undermine the mystique of the story. Certain changes, when made with artistic intent, can elevate a tale. Here, however, they feel more like arbitrary decisions thrown in for the sake of differentiation, ultimately coming off as unnecessary and, frankly, preposterous.
Then there’s the musical aspect. One of the fundamental pillars of a successful musical is the seamless integration of dialogue, emotion, and melody—each song should feel like a natural progression of the narrative, an organic extension of the characters’ inner worlds. Instead, Snow White struggles with its musicality, shoehorning in numbers that, more often than not, seem misplaced and intrusive rather than emotionally enriching. The result is a film that never quite finds its rhythm, meandering between spoken word and song in a way that disrupts the immersion rather than enhancing it.
Now, to address the elephant in the room—or rather, the casting decisions that have fueled much of the discourse surrounding the film. Zegler’s presence in the role of Snow White has been a topic of contention, but it is important to note that her performance, on its own merits, is not the issue. A performer of undeniable talent, she brings a sincerity to the role that, in fleeting moments, manages to pierce through the film’s overarching mediocrity. The real misfire comes in the form of Gal Gadot’s casting as the Evil Queen. While there is no denying her statuesque beauty—a crucial component of the character—her portrayal lacks the venomous gravitas needed to make the Queen a truly menacing force. Gadot’s presence is regal, yes, but her delivery feels restrained, her menace superficial, her performance unable to command the shadowy, malevolent energy the role demands. Casting an internationally beloved superstar is one thing, but forcing them into a role that does not align with their strengths is a gamble that simply does not pay off.
However, all these grievances pale in comparison to Snow White’s most egregious crime—the CGI dwarves. In an era where technology allows for near-seamless digital wizardry, the decision to replace what could have been a rich ensemble of talented dwarf actors with unconvincing computer-generated counterparts feels not just misguided but outright bizarre. The visual execution of these characters teeters between unsettling and outright comical, stripping them of any charm or warmth. When one considers that the film had every opportunity to do justice to these roles in a far more meaningful way, the choice to lean into artificiality instead feels like an insult to both the source material and the audience’s intelligence.
If there are redeeming qualities to be found, they exist in isolated moments. Zegler’s earnestness occasionally breathes life into the otherwise stilted affair, and the film’s production values—predictably lavish as they may be—ensure that it is, at the very least, visually polished. But spectacle alone cannot mask a hollow core, and for all its ornate aesthetics, Snow White remains a film that feels devoid of magic.
Disney finds itself at a crossroads, one where it must reconsider not just the what of its live-action remakes, but the why. Nostalgia is a powerful currency, but when overused without purpose or innovation, it loses its value. Snow White, in its confused attempt to modernize a timeless tale without a clear sense of direction, stands as a testament to this. Some stories, perhaps, are best left untouched, allowed to exist in the rose-tinted glow of memory rather than forced into the harsh light of reinvention.
