It is easy to look at a poster for a colorful animated film and assume you know exactly what you’re getting. You see a girl, a cute rabbit, and a glowing rocket ship, and your brain immediately slots it into the "fun distraction for kids" category. But Over the Moon is a bit of a Trojan horse. Released on Netflix in 2020, this movie isn't just about a trip to the lunar surface; it is a heavy, gorgeous, and sometimes chaotic exploration of how we deal with the people we lose. Honestly, it’s one of those rare films that manages to be deeply culturally specific to China while feeling like it was written about your own family's dinner table.
Fei Fei, our lead, is a math-obsessed dreamer who builds a rocket to prove that a moon goddess is real. Sounds simple? It isn't. The real engine of the story is grief. Her mother passed away, and her father is moving on. That’s a jagged pill for a kid to swallow. Directed by Glen Keane—the legendary animator behind The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast—the film carries a certain Disney-adjacent DNA but strikes out on its own weird, neon-soaked path once we leave Earth.
The Cultural Heart of Over the Moon
What makes the Over the Moon movie stand out isn't just the animation quality; it’s the commitment to the Mid-Autumn Festival traditions. You’ve got the mooncakes, the family reunions, and the legend of Chang'e. In most Western versions of this myth, it’s a footnote. Here, it’s the emotional backbone.
The film doesn't sanitize the legend of Chang'e and Houyi. It leans into the tragedy of their separation. When Fei Fei finally reaches the moon, she doesn't find a serene goddess. She finds a pop star. A diva. A woman radiating literal light but drowning in a thousand years of loneliness. Phillipa Soo, who many know from Hamilton, voices Chang'e with this incredible mix of arrogance and fragility. It’s a bold choice. Instead of a wise mentor, we get a character who is just as broken as the young protagonist.
The food scenes in the first act are basically "food porn" for animation lovers. The way the light hits the mooncakes and the steam rises from the bowls—it’s clear the team at Pearl Studio wanted this to feel authentic. They didn't just want "vaguely Asian" vibes. They wanted specific, recognizable Chinese household dynamics. The meddling aunties, the respectful but firm father, the kid who feels like an outsider in her own home. It’s all there.
Why the Animation Style Flips the Script
Most movies pick a style and stick to it. Over the Moon decides to pivot mid-way through. The scenes on Earth are grounded, warm, and textured. You can almost feel the wood grain on the table. But once we hit Lunaria? Everything changes.
- Lunaria's Visual Language: It’s a neon fever dream. Inspired by the artwork of Joan Miró, the moon kingdom is made of pure light. There are no shadows. It’s jarring at first, especially if you’re used to the "realistic" lighting of modern Pixar films.
- Character Designs: You have giant green space frogs, glowing lions, and Bungee the rabbit. It feels like a 1990s toy commercial mixed with high-concept art.
- The Contrast: This visual shift represents Fei Fei’s internal state. Earth is the reality she wants to escape; Lunaria is the bright, distracting fantasy she uses to avoid her pain.
The "Ultraluminary" sequence is probably the most famous part of the film for a reason. It’s a K-pop-inspired stadium anthem that feels totally out of place for a traditional folklore story, yet it works perfectly. It tells us that this goddess has had to reinvent herself to survive the isolation. She’s not a dusty relic. She’s a survivor.
Grief as a Narrative Engine
We need to talk about the "Chamber of Exquisite Sorrow." That’s a heavy name for a kids' movie, right? In this scene, the movie stops being a fun space adventure and becomes a masterclass in emotional intelligence. Fei Fei and Chang'e have to confront the reality that "moving on" doesn't mean "forgetting."
A lot of movies treat grief like a problem to be solved. You cry, you hug, and you’re fixed. Over the Moon argues that grief is something you carry with you. It changes shape, sure, but it stays. The gift that Fei Fei eventually gives Chang'e—and herself—isn't a magical object. It’s the realization that love is infinite. Even when the person is gone, the love doesn't run out.
It’s actually quite sophisticated for a PG film. It acknowledges that new family members (like the "annoying" younger brother Chin) aren't replacements. They are additions. The relationship between Fei Fei and Chin is the emotional glue of the second half. Chin is loud, he’s energetic, and he’s exactly what a grieving, isolated girl needs, even if she doesn't realize it until she’s literally trapped on the moon.
The Music of Over the Moon
The soundtrack was handled by Christopher Curtis, Marjorie Duffield, and Helen Park. It’s a weird, wonderful mix. You have traditional Broadway-style ballads like "Rocket to the Moon" which hit all the expected emotional beats. But then you get tracks like "Hey Boy" and "Wonderful," which play with different genres.
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Music is used as a bridge. It connects Fei Fei’s memories of her mother to her current reality. When she sings "Rocket to the Moon," it’s not just a "I want" song in the Disney tradition. It’s a "I need to prove I’m not crazy" song. It’s desperate. You can hear the crack in her voice. That’s the "human quality" that often gets lost in over-processed studio recordings.
Misconceptions and Comparisons
People often compare this movie to Coco or Moana. While the "cultural journey" trope is similar, the Over the Moon movie is much more focused on the internal psychological state of its lead. It’s less about saving a village and more about saving a soul.
Some critics felt the moon section was too chaotic. They aren't entirely wrong. The introduction of the Gobi (the glowing space creature voiced by Ken Jeong) is a bit of a tonal shift. He’s the classic "wacky sidekick," and for some, he disrupts the emotional weight of the story. However, if you look at him as a manifestation of hope and resilience, he fits. He’s been exiled and lonely, too, but he chooses to be kind. He’s the foil to Chang'e’s bitterness.
What You Can Learn from Fei Fei’s Journey
If you’re watching this with kids—or even if you’re just a fan of high-level animation—there are a few things to keep an eye on. Look at the use of color. Notice how the palette shifts from warm oranges and browns on Earth to the cool blues and blinding neons of the moon.
Key Takeaways for Viewers:
- Embrace the New: The movie isn't saying the "old" life was bad. It’s saying the "new" life can be good, too.
- Logic vs. Emotion: Fei Fei is a scientist. She tries to solve an emotional problem (grief) with a scientific solution (building a rocket). The movie shows that some things can't be calculated.
- The Power of Myth: Stories aren't just for kids. They are the frameworks we use to understand the world when things stop making sense.
Whether you're there for the K-pop goddess, the adorable rabbit, or the deep dive into Chinese folklore, the film delivers something much more substantial than its bright colors suggest. It’s a reminder that even when you’re "over the moon" with sadness, there’s a way back home.
How to Apply the Movie's Themes Today
If you find yourself struggling with change or loss, take a page from the film's book. Don't try to build a literal rocket to escape your reality. Instead, look at the "Chamber of Exquisite Sorrow" as a metaphor. It’s okay to sit in that darkness for a while, as long as you eventually let someone else in to help you find the light.
Next Steps for Your Movie Night:
- Watch for the details: Pay attention to the crane imagery throughout the film. It’s a symbol of longevity and the soul that appears in subtle ways before the climax.
- Explore the legend: Read the original myth of Chang'e and Houyi. Seeing how the filmmakers adapted a thousands-of-years-old story into a modern space adventure adds a whole new layer of appreciation.
- Try the food: If you can find a local bakery, try a traditional mooncake. Just remember—don't eat it all at once; they are incredibly dense.
The Over the Moon movie remains a standout in the crowded field of streaming animation because it isn't afraid to be messy. It isn't afraid to have a protagonist who is occasionally selfish or a goddess who is kind of a jerk. It feels human, even when it's standing on the moon.