I’ll be honest: I didn’t expect to come out of Moana 2 with a lump in my throat. I went in thinking, Okay, Disney sequel, probably recycled plot, a couple of catchy songs, some fun visuals. You know the drill. But then the soundtrack hit me—specifically Get Lost—and suddenly I was twelve again, trying to figure out where the hell I belonged in the world, but with more tattoos and slightly better boundaries.
“Get lost.”
It’s a phrase people throw out when they’re annoyed. Dismissive. A push away.
But in this movie? It becomes an invitation.
To wander. To risk. To break from the mapped-out path.
And fuck me, if that doesn’t that feel like the medicine so many of us need?
The culture of it all
I’ve always loved how Moana grounds its story in Polynesian culture. It’s not just window-dressing; the mythology, the ocean as a living presence, the songs—they carry weight. I grew up with stories too, though a different flavour: Welsh fairy tales with their dragons and witches, sharp warnings and glimmers of hope. For me, seeing Moana sail through myth and memory feels like watching a collective soul try to remember itself. That longing for belonging—it’s universal.
And Moana 2 doubles down on that. The richness of the culture isn’t just in the costumes or the chants, it’s in the metaphor: a people who understand that “getting lost” isn’t failure. It’s navigation. Sometimes you need to drift a little off course to find where you’re truly meant to be.
Why it hit me personally
I think part of why the song Get Lost gutted me is because it mirrors my own navigation. My life has been one long experiment in straying off course—dropping out, breaking away, saying no to the script that was handed to me. I’ve “gotten lost” so many times: in relationships, in smoke-filled nights, in writing projects that swallowed me whole. And yet, every detour gave me something. A compass point, a fragment of truth, even if it came with blisters and heartbreak.
There’s this moment in the film where Moana’s journey isn’t about proving herself anymore—it’s about trusting herself. That’s the part that made me shift uncomfortably in my seat, holding back tears. Because that’s the real beast of adulthood, isn’t it? Not slaying monsters or crossing oceans, but believing that the pathless path you’re carving is valid, even when no one else can see where it’s leading.
The soundtrack as philosophy
I know I’m being dramatic over a Disney song, but hear me out: Get Lost isn’t just catchy—it’s a philosophy. One we’re taught to fear. Society loves a map, a job title, a five-year plan. Try telling someone, “Actually, I’m just… figuring it out as I go,” and watch the panic creep into their eyes. But what if that’s exactly how we’re meant to live?
What if getting lost is the only honest way to find ourselves?
I didn’t expect Moana 2 to hand me that reminder in surround sound, but I’m grateful it did. Sometimes the deepest truths hide in kids’ movies, disguised as singable choruses. Maybe because children don’t need the metaphor explained—they just know it’s okay to drift, to explore, to trust the tide.
So if you need me, I’ll be over here, getting lost.
Because sometimes that’s the only way home.
Until next time,
Jodie x