In Kung Fu Panda 4, Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman) tells Po (Jack Black) that he must relinquish the title of Dragon Warrior and find a replacement so that he can become the Spiritual Leader of the Valley.  (You may recall that in the first movie, Master Oogway held that position and passed away after choosing Po as the Dragon Warrior.)  While Shifu insists Po needs to accept his new role in order to continue growing, Po actively resists the change.  Like anyone who has spent a long time doing things himself, he is uncomfortable with being promoted to “management”.  He loves fighting injustice and hanging with the Furious Five and doesn’t want to give either of them up for a role that he doesn’t understand.  (To its credit, the movie does a decent job explaining just what a manager–or Spiritual Leader–actually does.)

Despite interviewing some awesome candidates, Po refuses to name his successor, which naturally frustrates Shifu.  Luckily for Po, a distraction comes in the form of Zhen (Awkwafina), a fox stealing ancient weapons from the Jade Palace.  Zhen manages to out-fox (sorry) Po for a while, but Po eventually traps her.  Although Zhen is convicted and sent to prison, her craftiness earns Po’s respect.  Just when the guards lock up Zhen, Po hears that his old foe, Tai Lung (Ian McShane), has returned.  (He’s not the only one of Po’s adversaries that returns in this movie, but he is the only one who actually talks.  Gotta be mindful of budgets these days.)

Zhen tells Po that Tai Lung is actually The Chameleon (Viola Davis), a sorceress who has appropriated Tai Lung’s powers from the Spirit Realm.  Since The Chameleon operates out of Juniper City, a place Po has never been, he asks the guards to release Zhen to his recognizance so that she can take him there.  During their journey, the two make a brief stop at the shiftiest cabin ever envisioned, where the rabbit stew is the freshest you’d ever taste (a funny throw-away sight gag.)  When Po and Zhen arrive at the city, he’s entranced by the amazing sights and tantalizing smells of but completely oblivious to the underlying danger around every corner.  (Think “The City Fox and The Country Panda”.)  I wish the movie spent time with Po the foodie instead of the parallel journey of Po’s two dads, which adds minimal value to the overall story.

Zhen’s status as an outlaw forces her and Po to take refuge among the Den of Thieves, where Han (Ke Huy Quan) states that she is no longer welcome.  The reasons for Han’s animosity towards his former apprentice are revealed in the movie’s mildly-surprising twist, which if I were paying closer attention I should have guessed.  When Po finally confronts and is defeated by The Chameleon, she reveals what her evil plan is, which is very similar to General Kai’s from Kung Fu Panda 3.  Thankfully, the movie’s big climactic showdown carries through with its themes of mentorship and trust, with Po finally realizing that inspiring others involves more than imparting fortune cookie wisdom.

Fans of this franchise know that this isn’t the first time Po has taken a road trip.  (He traveled to his father Li’s village in Kung Fu Panda 3.)  This is the first time the franchise has used a big city setting before, and the change of scenery proves to be a wise choice in several ways.  First, it gives the movie a different look than its predecessors.  Second, it becomes an excellent source of jokes and meta references that has made this franchise so enjoyable.  For example, when nobody in Juniper City recognizes Po, he rhetorically asks, “Is my success that regional?”  The  movie also wanders into Looney Tunes territory on several occasions, showing a willingness to draw humor from elements outside the established KFP aesthetic.  There’s the teetering cabin, a running gag about wanted posters, a talking fish who lives in a pelican’s mouth and a trio of homicidal bunnies.  The movie ultimately reverts to the established KFP formula but these madcap and zany elements provided a welcome touch of anarchy.

Although Kung Fu Panda 4 is funny and has plenty of action, the movie isn’t at the same level as the first two entries of this franchise.  With rare exception, the animation is perfunctory and lacks both the whimsy and beauty that it was known for.  I can still envision scenes from Kung Fu Panda, particularly the dazzling energy of Po’s training sessions and Tai Lung’s dramatic escape from prison.  Or Po fighting off Lord Shen’s cannons in Kung Fu Panda 2.  Po is still a  reliably funny character, but I thought the move made him a bit too naive in service of the jokes.  Po is too self-aware to not know when someone is mocking him.

Given how the Furious Five only make an appearance during the end credits, I was glad that Dustin Hoffman was back as Shifu.  Hoffman has always been this franchise’s secret ingredient, playing the apoplectic straight man opposite Black’s gonzo Po.  Even though Hoffman’s work here is barely more than a cameo, the Abbott and Costello-inspired repartee he has with Black is still a treat. I was also happy that the movie found a way to bring back Ian McShane’s Tai Lung, my favorite villain in the franchise by far. McShane’s devilish performance is so much fun I wished he were around more. Unfortunately, his presence comes at the expense of Viola Davis’ Chameleon, a visually striking but bland villain with generic motivations.

Regardless of what the plot implies, I’m dubious that this franchise will be turned over to Awkwafina’s character.  Not because Awkwafina is bad here, but because she doesn’t do anything to prove that she can carry one of these movies by herself.  Awkwafina’s vocal work is…fine, but she simply doesn’t have the comedic gifts that Jack Black has.  Black’s performance as Po iconic is so memorable because he imbues the character with his own goofiness and energy.  Additionally, while Black is comfortable coloring outside the lines, Awkwafina clearly is not.  She’s done vocal work in many other animated films before this one (The Bad Guys, The Little Mermaid, Migration, Raya and the Last Dragon) and aside from her gruff voice there’s nothing memorable about her performances in them.  With that in mind, I don’t see how this franchise could continue without Jack Black.  He gives these movies their silly, demented soul.  Without his involvement, I don’t know what would compel me to see another one of these films.  Mildly Recommended.

Analysis

Animated movie franchises like Kung Fu Panda are supposed to be light-hearted and fun for the entire family.  Which makes its latest entry a curious one, given how the story is driven by existential dread.  Yes, I’m being completely serious here.  Master Shifu insists that Po train someone else to do his job so that he can focus on inspiring others.  This “promotion” makes Po understandably anxious.  He’s become accustomed to the excitement and adulation that comes with being the Dragon Warrior, a role he’s excelled at.  He’s reluctant to give up doing what he loves for a role that is vaguely defined, where he will be judged not by what he does, but on  what others do in his name.  

Then there’s the matter of Po being a mentor and inspiring others.  While he’s had an excellent mentor in Shifu, he’s never thought of being one himself.  What approach should he use?  Should he parcell out his wisdom in the form of clever aphorisms?  Should he lead by example?  Should he stand back and let his charge fail, since failure is the best teacher?  As someone who enjoys solving problems directly, being a spiritual leader would mean Po would be working through others, something he’s never done before and that makes him nervous.

From his perspective, Master Shifu is just being practical.  Shifu, who is getting up there in years, knows that Po won’t be able to fight villains forever.  So when he asks Po to train his successor, Shifu’s direction is logical and sensible.  However, it hits Po squarely in the gut because it forces him to admit to his own mortality.  For someone who has lived entirely in the moment, this is heavy stuff for Po.  Shifu is forcing him to look beyond himself and ensure that the Valley of Peace will be protected when he’s no longer around, just like Shifu did when he transitioned teaching duties to Po.  While succession planning makes people uncomfortable, it is important because it creates stability.  Shifu knows that the valley will be in good hands after he dies with Po as its spiritual leader and a new Dragon Warrior in place.

While Kung Fu Panda 4 never has Po or Shifu discuss death outright, the concept of death has been part of the franchise from the beginning.  The first movie gave Master Oogway a beautiful death, where he slowly dissolved into flower petals.  When villains like Tai Lung are defeated, they’re sent to the Spirit Realm, otherwise known as the afterlife.  Shifu knows how important it is for Po to enable the next Dragon Warrior to succeed, so he kicks him out of his complacency and forces him to think about the future for a change.  The message in the movie is a simple one: we all die, but we also have a responsibility to teach the next generation so that they can learn from our mistakes.  Kung Fu Panda 4 may not be the best entry of the franchise, or even the second best.  But like the others it is surprisingly philosophical for a children’s movie.

This is the end.

Kung Fu Panda 4 reminded me of other instances where an animated movie franchise contemplates its own mortality within the context of the story.  In Cars 3, Lightning McQueen realized he could no longer cut it on the racing circuit.  In Toy Story 3, Andy’s toys face the possibility of being thrown away (a.k.a. dying) while they watch Andy prepare to leave home for college.  Shrek Ever After gave us a Shrek so tired of the direction his life had taken that he was willing to give up a day of his childhood to experience being an actual ogre once again.  Puss in Boots: The Last Wish had the eponymous cat looking to cheat death by wishing for more lives.  Now, in Kung Fu Panda 4, Po is being asked to give up his charmed life as the Dragon Warrior to become the Spiritual Leader of the Valley of Peace.

A pet theory of mine for why all of these franchises are obsessed with death and dying is that filmmakers know when their franchise has reached its “best by” date, and that sense of finality subconsciously works its way into the storyline.  For example, this theory would explain the underlying feeling of malaise in Shrek Forever After.  Instead of the series ending on a high note with Shrek the Third, the filmmakers had to come up with another story for a franchise that had effectively concluded.  Their creative apathy at being put into this position infused a story where the central character had grown tired of his own franchise and wanted a way out.

The Toy Story franchise is unique in how it directly addressed the mortality of itself and its characters with its third entry, only to shrug off that emotional reckoning in a sequel.  Toy Story 3 certainly was made with the intention of being the final chapter of the story of Andy’s toys.  After Toy Story 2 focused on the possibility of living forever, it made sense for the next movie to have Woody and the rest of the toys come face-to-face with death.  After all, Woody and Buzz made a pact to stick together until the end, even if that meant rotting in a landfill.  Toy Story 3 made that outcome a distinct possibility for Woody and the rest of the toys, and their brushes with death helped to bring the series to a cathartic and heart-breaking conclusion.  That is, until Toy Story 4 pretended like nothing ever happened.  Even though it was well-made and entertaining, it’s still a completely unnecessary coda.  (I suspect Toy Story 5 will be more of the same.)

Cars 3 is an example of a franchise that has gone on too long but where the filmmakers wanted it to continue regardless.  It handles this situation by having Lightning McQueen realize he is too old to continue racing and decides to mentor his replacement.  The idea appears to be to have  Cruz Ramirez become the lead character in future sequels, but this switcheroo didn’t work because Cars 3 effectively ended the franchise due to it being the lowest grossing entry of the franchise.  

As you may have noticed, Kung Fu Panda 4 uses the same premise.  However, the way it incorporates the notion of training one’s successor doesn’t feel as forced (or calculated) as it was with Cars 3.  Regardless of what I think of Awkwafina’s vocal work as Zhen, the introduction of a character for Po to mentor fits within the overarching storyline of the Kung Fu Panda series.  In the first movie, Po started out as a noodle chef and became the Dragon Warrior.  In the second movie, he learns how to find inner peace and defeats a villain who relies on weapons instead of Kung Fu.  The third movie saw become a teacher and learn how to use the power of his community to defeat a supernatural villain.  Po’s promotion to Spiritual Leader in this latest entry makes sense because it’s the next logical step for his character’s growth.  Whether the Kung Fu Panda franchise ever actually addresses Po’s death in a future sequel is another question entirely.  The world may not be ready for Kung Fu Fox, but at least we can’t accuse the franchise of not preparing us for that possibility.