Lilo & Stitch: Music, Symbolism and the Disneyfication of the Local

The case of Lilo & Stitch is truly interesting — but even more so because of the condition it brings together.And here I’m going to get a little fiery, because… well, this is basically what my Master’s thesis was about. Not exactly Lilo & Stitch, but a phenomenon it detonates.

Just to give some context: my thesis looked at how music stops being a mere product and becomes a resource.That transformation depends on how we use it — through our practices of listening, reinterpretation, recirculation, and appropriation.In other words, everything lies in the particular process of reception.But… how far can that process go? As far as today’s case, I’d say.

(On my socials I’ll share a piece I wrote back in grad school, where I talked about the Disneyfication of Latin America.)

Wait — what do we mean by Disneyfication?

We’re not talking about something dark or evil. As one of my professors used to say, it’s about thinking carefully.The word refers to the power a cultural industry —in this case, Disney— has to shape the ways we see and think about the reality around us: cultures, values, identities.It’s the power to transform and reconfigure the local so it can be globally consumed.

So paying attention to these industries also means recognizing that our conception of “reality” is, in large part, outlined by other people’s decisions — that there are regimes of visibility inserted directly into our perception of what’s sensible and real.

(I know, I know — if this starts sounding too theoretical or repetitive, please stop me. It’s the invasive habit of academia, I swear.)

Music as a Symbolic Device

Here, music functions as a symbol ready for reproduction (as I mentioned in the previous episode).And as Cornelius Castoriadis once said:

“Society creates its symbolism, but not in total freedom.Symbolism attaches itself to the natural, to the historical — to what was already there.It ultimately takes part in the rational.All this gives rise to chains of meaning, to connections and consequences that were never intended or foreseen.”(Castoriadis, 1975)

In less theoretical terms: society works through symbols that have been historically constructed.And when we say historically constructed, we mean we have to look deeper — to understand the political and cultural relations from which those symbols were born, and through which they now build our reality.

So here, music builds symbolism and inscription with a particular style — but of what exactly?

In the case of Lilo & Stitch, I think it does so with Hawaiian culture.

The Sound of Representation

The inclusion of Elvis Presley in both movies links the story closely to the Hawaiian home — to what it means to be or exist in that territory.But… is that real?

There are two specific songs that Disney kept in both films — the original ones with lyrics in the native language.That makes up about 17% of the soundtrack — and in truth, the proportion is even smaller, because the native language only appears in a fragment of one of those songs.For me, it’s impossible not to notice —and I insist here— the historical parallel that the music carries.

Let’s remember a bit of history.The Hawaiian Islands were a sovereign state up until 1893 — until, after a few coups and political shifts (I’ll skip the details, or we’d be here for hours), the United States officially signed the annexation treaty in 1959.But was the Hawaiian people in agreement? Not really.A large part of the population still resents it.In fact, in 1993, the U.S. government signed what’s known as the Apology Resolution, which recognizes its participation in the overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy and the Hawaiian people’s resistance to being part of the United States.

So, when you see it from that angle, things change.Including Elvis Presley —being “the King,” a deeply American symbol, as emblematic as McDonald’s— as the main musical figure in a movie set in and representing Hawaiian life feels… ironic. Sure, there’s about 15% of Hawaiian language in the soundtrack, but still — the balance speaks for itself.

The image —in this case, the sonic and verbal spectrum that this industry has built around Hawaiian culture— condenses both history and the historical power of visibility regimes and the imaginaries that this industry so skillfully manages to play with.

Original Version