Star vs. the Forces of Evil Wraps its Series Run as the Epically Nuanced Girl vs. Power Allegory You’ve Been Looking For
STAR VS. THE FORCES OF EVIL - "Cleaved" (Disney Channel) STAR, ECLIPSA, METEORA, MOON © 2019 Disney Enterprises, Inc. All rights reserved.
This Sunday, a generations-long battle of the wills waged (mostly) between powerful women to determine the fate of a monstrous magical kingdom will reach its epic conclusion. And then, 13 and a half hours later, Game of Thrones will air.
This reads as glib, but once I realized that Disney Channel’s metal-as-heck animated series Star vs. the Forces of Evil would be wrapping its increasingly ambitious serialized run the same day Game of Thrones would, the parallels between the two became almost laughably obvious. Like Game of Thrones, Star vs. the Forces of Evil is interested in investigating the corrosive effects that absolute power can have even on those with the best of intentions. Like Game of Thrones, Star vs. the Forces of Evil has spent the latter part of this investigation centering the perspectives of several powerful women, each from different generations, each motivated by a slightly different ideology. Like Game of Thrones, Star vs. the Forces of Evil found one of these women deciding in its penultimate episode that the only way to move into the future was to wreak havoc on the past. And like on GoT, on SvtFoE, that woman even ended up being the one with long, snow-white hair tied back in severe braids. (Moon Butterfly, how could you??)
As remarkable as these similarities are, though, what they end up doing is further underscoring the many ways in which Star vs. the Forces of Evil has managed, throughout its four long seasons, to set itself apart—not just as a colorfully progressive fantasy epic cum man girl vs. power allegory, or as an example of the nuanced heights fun, serialized kids’ animation can reach, but as a model of how textural dynamism and textual variety can work together to create a story that’s wildly strong, utterly unique and entertaining as heck. Yes, Star vs. the Forces of Evil is as concerned as Game of Thrones is with the destructive influence of absolute power—represented, in Star Butterfly’s world, by the magic wielded over Mewni’s mewmans and monsters by the kingdom’s long line of Butterfly queens—but equally does it prize both the redemptive power of family, friendship and deep empathy for your fellow creature, and the cathartic power of just giving yourself permission to revel in pure, un-self-serious goofballery.
This last element, although it may have been more prominent in the series’ first two adventure-of-the-week seasons than it has been in the last, more serialized make-Mewni-whole-again ones, has served an especially powerful role in balancing the show’s pacing as the climactic face-off between the mewmans’ backwards-looking, anti-monster xenophobia—led by Mina (Amy Sedaris) and enabled by ex-Queen Moon (Grey Griffin)—and Star (Eden Sher) and her friends’ forward-looking, monster-friendly agenda—represented by the revived Queen Eclipsa (Esmé Bianco), her monster husband Globgor (Jaime Camil) and their magical monster baby Meteora (at one point, Jessica Walter)—has approached. The more that the mewmans have dug into their hatred of monsters and any mewman/Earth human who might stand by them, the darker Star vs. the Forces of Evil has become. And the darker Star vs. the Forces of Evil as become, the more welcome have been all the narrative time-outs during which Star and Marco (Adam McArthur) have zoned out over tacos back on Earth, or Tom (Rider Strong) and Janna (Abby Elliott) have gone boot-surfing in Mewni’s magical junkyards, or Star, Marco, Tom and Janna have gotten high as fuzz off the glittery, unicorn-filled realm of pure magic. (Well, as high, at least, as any Disney show is going to let any of its animated kid characters get.) All of these episodes, episodes in which absolutely nothing of narrative interest happened, have aired in the run-up to Mewni’s possibly magic-ending final showdown, but rather than that narrative nothingness puncturing the larger plot’s building tension, each one has made the humanity of Star’s story—and thus, of her hero’s journey—more robust.