In the shimmering turquoise expanse of the Pacific, where ancient legends whisper through the trade winds and the ocean calls to the bold, Disney has reignited a cultural phenomenon. On November 17, 2025, the studio unveiled the first teaser trailer for its live-action reimagining of Moana, the 2016 animated epic that enchanted the world with its tale of a wayfinding chieftess and her demigod companion. Clocking in at a tantalizing one minute, the trailer—racking up a staggering 182 million views in its first 24 hours, second only to The Lion King‘s 2019 remake—transports audiences back to the vibrant island of Motunui. There, against a backdrop of lush volcanic peaks and foam-flecked reefs, 18-year-old Catherine Lagaʻaia emerges as Moana, her voice soaring through a snippet of the iconic “How Far I’ll Go” that sends chills rippling like a sudden squall. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, bulkier and more mischievous than ever, reprises his role as the shape-shifting Maui, glimpsed mid-transformation from beetle to hawk in a blur of CGI wizardry. As the footage fades on Moana’s defiant declaration—”I am Moana!”—it’s clear: this isn’t mere nostalgia bait. It’s a bold voyage into live-action waters, celebrating Polynesian heritage while navigating the choppy seas of Disney’s remake empire.
The original Moana, helmed by animation legends Ron Clements and John Musker, was more than a box-office juggernaut—grossing $643 million worldwide (equivalent to $870 million today) on a $150 million budget. It was a cultural milestone, the first Disney animated feature to center a Polynesian protagonist, weaving mythology from Samoan, Tongan, and Fijian lore into a narrative of self-discovery and environmental stewardship. Auliʻi Cravalho’s vocal performance as the titular teen, paired with Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Oscar-nominated songs like “You’re Welcome” and Opetaia Foaʻi’s oceanic anthems, turned it into a sing-along sensation. The film’s heart-pounding score by Mark Mancina evoked the rhythm of waves crashing on black-sand shores, while its message—”The ocean chose you for a reason”—resonated amid global conversations on climate change and indigenous voices. Nominated for Best Animated Feature and Best Original Song at the 2017 Oscars, Moana didn’t just entertain; it educated, boosting awareness of Pacific Island cultures and even inspiring real-world conservation efforts in places like Hawaii and Fiji.
Now, a decade later, Disney charts the same course with flesh-and-blood actors, a decision announced at the company’s April 2023 shareholder meeting as part of its centennial push. The live-action adaptation, scripted by Jared Bush (co-writer of the original and Encanto) and Dana Ledoux Miller (Raya and the Last Dragon), stays faithful to the core quest: Moana, heir to the chief of Motunui, defies her father’s edict against the sea to restore the heart of Te Fiti, enlisting the exiled demigod Maui along the way. But expect subtle expansions—perhaps deeper dives into Polynesian navigation techniques or the ecological scars of colonial exploitation—drawn from consultants like the Polynesian Voyaging Society. Principal photography wrapped in New Zealand’s stunning fjords and Hawaiian atolls last spring, blending practical sets with cutting-edge VFX from Weta Digital (the Avatar wizards) to conjure the film’s mythical beasts: the fiery Te Kā, the luminous ocean itself, and those coconut-clad Kakamora pirates, reimagined as eerily adorable yet ferocious foes.
At the trailer’s epicenter is Lagaʻaia, a Sydney-born newcomer of Samoan descent whose casting feels like destiny’s gentle nudge. Discovered through Disney’s global talent search emphasizing Pacific Islander authenticity, the 18-year-old brings a grounded ferocity to Moana—her eyes, dark and determined, echoing the ocean’s depths. “I grew up watching the animated film with my family, singing along to every song,” Lagaʻaia shared in a recent interview, her voice thick with emotion. “To step into her shoes, to honor my heritage… it’s surreal.” Her rendition of “How Far I’ll Go” in the teaser isn’t mimicry; it’s reinvention, infused with a raw, youthful timbre that bridges the animated innocence and live-action grit. Critics at early screenings, like those at the American Film Institute Fest, have already buzzed about her “star-is-born” potential, likening her to a young Awkwafina in Shang-Chi. Lagaʻaia’s Samoan roots aren’t tokenism; they’re woven into the fabric. Her family’s traditional tattoos (tatau) inspired Moana’s markings, and she’ll incorporate fale aiga (Samoan communal dances) into the film’s communal scenes, ensuring the remake pulses with genuine cultural rhythm.
Johnson’s return as Maui is the anchor, his larger-than-life presence a gravitational pull. The 53-year-old Samoan-New Zealander, who voiced the boastful demigod in the original (and sang the viral “You’re Welcome”), doubles as a producer through his Seven Bucks Productions banner. “Maui’s my heart, my culture on screen,” Johnson posted on Instagram alongside the trailer, the clip garnering 50 million views overnight. In the footage, we see him flexing that massive tattooed frame—now realized in practical prosthetics and motion-capture—hurling his enchanted fishhook with a wink that screams showman. But this Maui isn’t cartoon bombast; Johnson’s live-action take hints at vulnerability, a demigod scarred by abandonment, mirroring the actor’s own reflections on his WWE-to-Hollywood pivot. Producing alongside him are Beau Flynn (Jungle Cruise), Dany and Hiram Garcia (his ex-wife and half-brother), and Miranda himself, ensuring the songs retain their Lin-Manuel magic. Mancina returns to orchestrate the score, blending live-recorded taiko drums and ukuleles with Opetaia Foaʻi’s choral swells for a soundscape that’s both epic and intimate.
The ensemble rounds out with Pacific powerhouses, a deliberate pivot from Disney’s past remake missteps like Peter Pan & Wendy‘s whitewashing controversies. John Tui, the Auckland-born powerhouse from HBO’s Our Flag Means Death, steps into Chief Tui’s moccasins as Moana’s stern yet loving father—a role that lets him channel his rugby-honed intensity into paternal protectiveness. “Chief Tui’s not just a barrier; he’s the rock she breaks against to become the ocean,” Tui told Variety, teasing scenes of tense council meetings amid encroaching blight. Frankie Adams, the Samoan-Kiwi breakout from The Expanse and The Rings of Power, embodies Sina, Moana’s warrior mother, with a playful ferocity that promises heartfelt mother-daughter duets. “Sina’s the unsung hero—the woman who taught her to weave nets and dream big,” Adams noted, her casting lauded for amplifying female strength in Polynesian lore. Then there’s Rena Owen, the New Zealand icon from Once Were Warriors, reprising her animated Gramma Tala with ethereal wisdom. At 75, Owen’s Tala is the spiritual compass, her scenes in the trailer flickering with ancestral visions that blend practical fire dances with subtle VFX glows. “This is our stories, told by us,” Owen declared at a cultural preview in Auckland, where elders blessed the production with a traditional karakia (prayer).
Directing it all is Thomas Kail, the Emmy- and Tony-winning maestro behind Hamilton‘s cinematic capture, making his narrative feature debut. Kail’s theater roots shine in the trailer’s rhythmic editing—waves crashing in sync with drumbeats, ensemble chants building like a Broadway overture. “Moana’s a musical at heart, but live-action lets us feel the salt spray, hear the real conch calls,” Kail explained, crediting executive producer Auliʻi Cravalho for bridging worlds. Cravalho, now 25 and fresh off Moana 2‘s November 2024 release (which has already sailed past $500 million), bows out of the vocal booth but infuses the remake with insider tweaks. “Catherine’s Moana is me at 16, but bolder—rooted in her Samoan fire,” Cravalho said, her involvement a full-circle nod to the franchise’s legacy.
Yet, as the trailer crashes like a rogue wave, so do the debates. X (formerly Twitter) erupted with a tidal surge of reactions: #LiveActionMoana trended globally, amassing 2.5 million mentions in 48 hours. Fans swooned—”Catherine’s voice! Dwayne’s hook toss! This is PEAK Disney”—while others decried the speed: “Moana’s not even 10 years old—why remake perfection?” one viral post lamented, echoing broader fatigue with Disney’s live-action pipeline (Snow White flopped amid backlash, but Lilo & Stitch and Mufasa redeemed the formula). Cultural watchdogs praised the authentic casting but flagged a “odd” change: Moana’s age bumped to 18 for “maturity,” sparking whispers of sanitizing her teen rebellion. “Are you kidding? She was a kid defying destiny—now it’s YA romance?” griped a Reddit thread with 15,000 upvotes. Still, the trailer’s feats—the Kakamora’s eerie coconut clatters, Maui’s hawk dive over jagged cliffs—silenced skeptics, proving VFX can honor animation’s whimsy without cheapening it.
Production whispers fuel the hype. Filmed across Oahu’s windward shores and New Zealand’s Abel Tasman coast, the shoot dodged a cyclone scare but emerged with footage of real outrigger canoes slicing dawn-lit waves. Miranda’s new lyrics tease an expanded “Shiny” sequence, with Tamatoa the crab voiced by a yet-unrevealed legend (rumors swirl around Daveed Diggs). Budgeted at $200 million—up from the original’s—to fund ocean-spanning spectacle, the film eyes IMAX sails for immersive wayfinding sequences. As Disney’s remake slate swells (Tangled revived, Bambi in pre-vis), Moana stands as a beacon: not exploitation, but elevation, amplifying voices from the margins.
Come July 10, 2026—precisely 10 years post-original premiere—theaters will swell with families, tattoos bared and aloha shirts donned. Will it eclipse The Lion King‘s $1.6 billion haul? Early polls say yes, with 70% of Pacific diaspora vowing attendance. In Lagaʻaia’s Moana, we see not just a heroine, but a harbinger: Disney listening, learning, launching into uncharted waters. The ocean chose her—and us—for this journey. As the trailer closes on Motunui’s horizon, one truth endures: Some stories aren’t remade; they’re reborn, carried on the wind to new shores.
