Disney’s 2025 live-action adaptation of Snow White endeavors to weave a classic tale with threads reflective of today’s societal fabric. Rachel Zegler steps into the role of Snow White, bringing an controversial perspective to the beloved character. Her portrayal infuses the princess with a specific resilience, attempting to align with contemporary narratives that celebrate inner strength and self-reliance. This iteration reimagines Snow White’s Caucasian origins, attributing her name to the circumstances of her birth during a snowstorm, symbolizing endurance and fortitude.
Yet despite the film’s efforts to reframe its heroine with modern complexity, a certain emotional distance lingers. Zegler’s performance, though poised and technically sound, struggles to generate the kind of effortless empathy this story relies on. And the friction doesn’t lie in her Colombian heritage, as some might claim, but in the particular cadence of her personality—a confidence that often reads as dismissive, a wit that occasionally borders on condescension.
Public moments—whether critiquing the original 1937 film with a hint of scorn, or joking about the prince being irrelevant—have shaped perceptions. For a character built on sincerity and softness, that edge becomes hard to reconcile. Zegler’s Snow White feels, at times, less like someone to protect and more like someone already bracing for criticism. It creates a curious inversion: instead of leaning into the story’s emotional core, the viewer often feels they’re watching from behind a glass wall.
Gal Gadot’s depiction of the Evil Queen offers a more textured villain, her portrayal embracing both elegance and darkness. The dynamic between Snow White and the Queen is steeped in layered contrasts—envy and innocence, projection and self-possession—and it’s here the film finds some of its most compelling tension.
The film’s approach to the seven dwarves strays from traditional portrayals, offering a group that reflects a broader spectrum of voices and visages. It’s a thoughtful reimagining, if somewhat unevenly executed, prompting conversation about what it means to evolve a fairytale without discarding its emotional DNA.
Visually, the film is striking, alternating between the lush, natural wildness of the forest and the cold ornamentalism of the Queen’s domain—an aesthetic metaphor, for the film’s own internal dichotomies. Musically, it reaches for a bridge between nostalgia and reinvention.
While Snow White strives to harmonize legacy with relevance, the results are mixed. Its heart is present, but questionable. And in a story where warmth and wonder are everything, the coolness of its central figure—regardless of race—makes it just a bit harder to believe in happily ever after.
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