Disney’s Enchanted (2007), directed by Kevin Lima, is a cinematic tightrope walk that balances fairy-tale sincerity with razor-sharp satire, creating a film that both celebrates and critiques the Disney princess archetype. The screenplay, penned by Bill Kelly, is the film’s beating heart, deftly weaving a metafictional narrative that transplants Giselle, a cartoon princess, from the hand-drawn realm of Andalasia into the gritty reality of New York City. This collision of worlds storybook idealism versus urban cynicism fuels the film’s humor and emotional depth, offering a fresh lens on the tropes Disney itself helped cement. Kelly’s script shines in its refusal to mock its characters outright, instead allowing their earnestness to coexist with the absurdity of their circumstances, a choice that elevates Enchanted above mere parody.

Amy Adams’ performance as Giselle is a revelation, blending wide-eyed innocence with subtle growth as her character navigates love and agency in a world that demands pragmatism. Adams imbues every gesture and glance with authenticity, making Giselle’s evolution from archetype to individual both believable and affecting. Her chemistry with Patrick Dempsey’s Robert, a skeptical divorce lawyer, grounds the fantastical premise, though Dempsey’s performance occasionally feels restrained, lacking the spark to fully match Adams’ luminescence. James Marsden, as the charmingly obtuse Prince Edward, steals scenes with a gleeful commitment to caricature, his exaggerated heroism a loving jab at Disney’s prince tradition.

Alan Menken’s score, paired with Stephen Schwartz’s lyrics, is a nostalgic triumph, evoking classic Disney musicals while subtly subverting their conventions. Songs like “True Love’s Kiss” are both earnest anthems and winking tributes, their lush orchestration contrasting deliciously with New York’s urban cacophony. However, the film’s cinematography, while competent, misses opportunities to visually amplify this contrast. Don Burgess’ lens captures New York’s bustle adequately but lacks the daring flourishes that could have mirrored the narrative’s playful duality. The animated sequences, though brief, are a visual delight, their vibrant simplicity a nod to Disney’s golden age.

The film’s flaws lie in its pacing and resolution. The third act, with its obligatory villain showdown, feels rushed and formulaic, undermining the story’s earlier ingenuity. Susan Sarandon’s Queen Narissa, while deliciously camp, is underutilized, her menace more theatrical than threatening. Yet, Enchanted remains a singular achievement, a film that dares to interrogate its own legacy while embracing the magic it critiques. It’s a love letter to fairy tales that doesn’t shy away from questioning happily-ever-after, leaving viewers enchanted and introspective in equal measure.