Zootopia 2

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The biggest difference between *Zootopia 2* and its predecessor is the complete disappearance of the strong film noir atmosphere of the first film, transforming it into a purely romantic comedy. The charm of the first film largely lay in the deep integration of film noir, gangster films, and Disney's adorable animal animation, creating a powerful impact on the audience's world-building. In film noir, Nick's charisma stemmed from his intense, nihilistic skepticism towards Zootopia's entire system of "justice."

His years spent on the streets instilled in him a deep-seated wariness of the system; and, importantly, it's crucial to note that his initial wariness wasn't of Judy, but rather of Zootopia, a place rife with hypocritical politicians, unwarranted discrimination, and shady dealings. Therefore, in the first film, when he lets his guard down and decides to risk everything for Brave Rabbit's cause of justice, he appears exceptionally sincere, courageous, and moving.

However, in the second movie, Nick becomes a sarcastic, arrogant, and avoidant attachment figure towards Judy. There's nothing inherently wrong with this love-obsessed protagonist trope; the problem is that his anger towards Zootopia, the prosperous city built on lies, is gone, no longer nihilistic. Instead, he's secretly jealous, afraid of losing his job, and unwilling to cause trouble. He's both happy and helpless when he hears "happy anniversary," even acting like a schoolchild, trying to make the girl scream unprepared while he secretly laughs.

As a postmenopausal literary youth with some experience in writing short dramas due to financial constraints, I must say I was quite shocked when I saw it. This portrayal of Nick seems less like a product of classic film noir like "L.A. Confidential" or "Chinatown" and more like a product of "Boys Over Flowers" (not that "Boys Over Flowers" is bad; as a die-hard Oguri Shun fan, I found it very engaging, but these two narratives are not from the same cultural background or level of reflection).

Moreover, the "love-struck fox" persona is merely a commercially exploited and clichéd one. This new fox persona is indeed quite appealing to naive young girls, likely because they haven't experienced intimate relationships and therefore haven't either abused or been abused in one. They might even fantasize that boys bully them because they like them. Little do they know that ambiguity, mutual crushes, and being "good friends" who cross boundaries are actually among the most toxic relationships humans can form. True opposite-sex best friends, even those who can trust each other, sign large contracts, and go on missions together, will not engage in frivolous language, endless phone calls, check homework, or wear matching outfits.

In real life, people with avoidant attachment style or NPD may use "ambiguous" relationships with close friends to draw energy from others and satisfy their narcissism. In their thought process, ambiguity is more like a weapon of self-aggrandizement: "Look how amazing I am, I've landed another one, that's my immense charm." When you break down, cry, or feel wronged, the other person can simply say, "We're just good friends, why are you so emotionally unstable?"—and then they disappear without a trace.

The problem is that Zootopia 2 not only twists Nick's distrust and nihilism toward Zootopia itself into a kind of love-struck arrogance, it also beautifies this toxic relationship, making the audience feel that this avoidance can be relieved by hugging, that it is cute, and that it is adorable. It ignores the arrogance of the boyfriend in the short film and only provides a brief moment of fantasy respite: "The person who hurt me will eventually change for the better."

Fortunately or unfortunately, *Zootopia 2* is a female-centric film. And Judy, the female lead, is even more narcissistic and ruthless than Nick Wilde (regardless of gender). One could say its female-centric nature is more about fighting fire with fire. In the first film, Judy was a brave, persistent, and righteous little rabbit, a trustworthy friend. She ran and jumped to realize her dream of protecting Zootopia; unlike those politicians who say one thing and do another, she genuinely wanted to do something for that sinful metropolis.

What about this one?

It's important to understand that the most crucial element for any Disney character, or even any Hollywood character, is—never, ever, ever abandoning their companions. In this respect, Judy's characterization in the film goes to extremes; Judy is about to become the first Disney protagonist to abandon her companions (she didn't even react much when Nick was arrested by the police). Her unwavering dedication to the case and her callous indifference towards Nick would be considered villainous in a Spielberg film.

Of course, from another perspective, this also means that the only way to "conquer" (this word is also very toxic) them in the face of the relentless pull of avoidant attachment is to abandon humanity.

In general, Nick's narcissism is covert: I am vulnerable, and I don't want others to see my vulnerability. I need to work hard in secret to maintain my glorious and handsome image.

Judy's narcissism is overt: the earth will stop spinning without me, I am the number one justice in all of Zootopia, and anyone who hinders my justice should be eliminated.

Based on the conclusion that the two small animals shared their true feelings while hugging in the snow, we can even conclude that:

Nick needs Judy because Judy is easily startled and has a big reaction. Although she doesn't listen to him, she always thinks of him when something happens. Judy even takes him on various missions that he wouldn't normally be trusted to do.

--Judy also needs Nick, because only Nick will cooperate with her righteous act, even though she seems neither to care about nor understand Nick himself.

Zootopia 2 features many adorable characters, from the shoulderless Gary the snake to the wise Tom Nook, and the pig Beibei who carefully picks up the carrot pen.

Speaking of the main character

Honestly, even in dark-themed live-action films, it's rare to see such a melancholic and purely platonic friendship.

To put it simply without spoilers: the second film is significantly weaker than the first in every aspect. This is primarily reflected in three areas: First, the film's focus shifts from overcoming prejudice and achieving universal harmony to dismantling conspiracies. While both themes exist in both films, the first film's conspiracies are far more compelling and full of twists. The second film's themes feel forced and contrived. The first film's entire plot revolves around the conflict between carnivores and herbivores; removing this conflict would completely derail the story. However, the second film uses reptilian discrimination as a forced connection to the theme, but from cause to process to resolution, it all feels superficial. Removing these elements wouldn't affect the story's structure; it would just be a simple conspiracy, frame-up, and crime-solving story—like Detective Conan, which always promotes popular pairings. Second, what I find most unacceptable is the relationship between the fox and rabbit. The first film's portrayal of them as kindred spirits, "seeing the real you through the world's prejudices," a soulmate bond, is forcibly reduced to a "partnership leaning more towards romance" in the second film. This even goes so far as to somewhat distort the fox and rabbit's character development in order to emphasize the conflict. In the first film, the fox was full of justice, and the rabbit was full of rationality and cunning. One could even say that the reason their pairing was so appealing was because beneath their different bodies lay the same soul; the fox simply experienced more and disguised it better. Compared to the well-developed character arcs of the first film, the more stereotypical portrayals in the second are undoubtedly much weaker. Finally, in terms of plot design, the entire series, from climaxes to twists, is filled with deus ex machina. The twists are abrupt, and the solutions are even more baffling, reminiscent of recent Hollywood films where the protagonist shouts "love, family" and wins against a powerful opponent. Whether it's a general decline in Hollywood editing standards, an increasing inability to view others without prejudice due to global tensions, or the inability to write political satire in an environment dominated by "winner's mentality," regardless, when Gazelle sings the theme song so similar to "Wakawaka" at the end, it still brings back memories of watching Zootopia for the first time nine years ago, or even further back to the 2010 South Africa World Cup, when the global village seemed so close.

After jumping around and skipping home from the midnight showing, I calmed down a bit. I still really enjoyed it and am looking forward to watching it again with my friends later. But I'll also nitpick a bit.

As a sequel, it's inevitable to compare it to the first film. While the first film pioneered the Zootopia concept, the second didn't offer anything truly "new" to impress audiences. Furthermore, the pacing wasn't as perfect as the first film; the second felt rushed throughout, adhering to the standard three-act structure of a movie script, and ending without even a climactic battle.

However, if we consider the main storyline not as "the rabbit and the fox helping a snake find the truth about the construction of Zootopia and his home," but rather as "how a pair of partners who have gone through life and death to become inseparable can honestly face themselves and treat each other sincerely in the long future they will spend together," then the climax of the story is undoubtedly the scene where Nick and Judy reconcile (this sequence is meaningful, not just from the perspective of shipping).

Of course, one can criticize the second film for essentially repeating the core of the first, still talking about breaking down racial prejudice and the immigrant narrative of "home is where the heart is." However, for viewers outside the film, after witnessing the various surrealities of the world over the nine years from 2016 to 2025, seeing this kind of story—which could be described as "old-fashioned," "left-wing," or even "naively ignoring the fractured reality"—in a Hollywood blockbuster still evokes many emotions in me.

I could find a lot of fault with the story of how Zootopia was built, and some of the new characters seemed to have suddenly changed their ways, but I really enjoyed watching it.

Let's talk a little more about Judy and Nick; there will be some spoilers ahead.

The trailer for the second movie just came out, showing the two attending a partner consultation. I already felt that it was very reasonable for the second movie to focus on their "incompatibility." There were already hints in the first movie: the brave but reckless rabbit and the clever but timid fox. The scene in the first movie where they were trying to steal a whole train car full of midnight howling flowers, resulting in the train overturning and almost destroying all the evidence, was a perfect example.

The second movie does indeed continue the conflicts that may arise from their different personalities and ways of doing things, but what I particularly like is that even when the two have a falling out, Rabbit says "We may indeed be very different", but does not say anything explicitly separating them like "We are not suitable to be partners".

Even when arguing, you shouldn't say things that belittle the other person or that you don't mean. This is really, really good.

Nick also confessed to Beaver that he and Judy had a fight. Beaver asked him what Nick said before Judy's last words during the fight, which made Nick admit that he cared too much about Judy and was too afraid of losing her.

Wow, I really love the way the beaver asked Nick what he said first before Judy said that line. It makes Nick, and the audience (me), completely understand what "I" did wrong.

Of course, the lines for making up were also very well written. Two partners who care about each other have a conflict, and they can humble themselves, be honest with each other, and even have a third party comment on how overly honest they were to defuse any awkwardness in intimate moments. It's truly a textbook example of a healthy partnership. This "partner" refers not only to romantic partners but also to friends and business partners.

It might be easier to write about the tension and sparks between two characters going from 0 to 1, but to write about a relationship going from 1 to 100 in such a delicate, sincere, and endearing way is also quite impressive.

In short, I'll probably be watching it like crazy again.

After watching the film three times in IMAX a day later (two in English and one in Chinese), I wanted to write something about character development. ———————————————————————————————————————

Having seen some discussions about the character development of Judy and Nick in the second movie, I'd like to share my thoughts, which will definitely contain many spoilers.

Let me first state my own opinion, which may seem like I'm taking sides, but I can understand those who are dissatisfied because they think Nick is weaker in the second movie than in the first, and those who think Judy is not as likable as in the first movie.

However, I disagree with the above views, and I don't think that Judy and Nick in the second movie are out of character compared to those in the first movie.

Of course, there are some points of discussion about whether things could be different, but overall, I think the character development in the second part, especially the two main characters, is still very good (here, "good" mainly refers to the behind-the-scenes creators, but can also refer to the characters themselves).

Let's talk to them one by one.

Let's start with Judy:

Has Judy's growth arc, which was completed in the first movie, regressed in the second movie? This includes her interpersonal relationships in the police force, such as the appearance of typical American bullying scenes.

Judy has one consistent personality trait—impatience. The other side of this "flaw" is her willingness to take the lead and her exceptional drive.

After successfully averting a crisis in Zootopia in the first film, she, who already harbored dreams of making the world a better place, felt a sense of responsibility to protect Zootopia's peace and tranquility, and became a role model for small herbivores—as explicitly stated in the second film through a line from Chief Bogo, she now has many rabbit fans. However, this responsibility and role modeling also made her more internally conflicted.

Judy always feels that she hasn't done well enough, or that she could have done better.

This internal conflict mainly stems from Judy's own personality, but it is also related to the external environment. She gained fame and fans, which strengthened her motivation, sense of accomplishment, and vanity in striving for her dreams.

At the same time, her colleagues were not friendly towards her and Nick's relationship.

The police officers didn't seem as friendly as they were at the end of the first movie, and there was even a bullying element. First of all, I also think that American bullying is a plot device that, while effective in depicting the protagonist's predicament, doesn't really require much thought.

Secondly, I also believe that the creators put in some effort to make this plot "reasonable." For example, the colleague who mainly displays hostility is a new character in the second part.

Judy and Nick's colleagues mocked the duo, partly because Nick was irresponsible and had a sharp tongue—note that I acknowledge Nick has issues with his way of speaking, but I absolutely do not believe that he is justified in being bullied for it.

At the beginning of the movie, after the boar berates Judy, Nick retaliates by attacking her with his boar body. This gives a glimpse into their daily interactions with other colleagues at the police station. No one can possibly win an argument with him.

But Nick was genuinely unconcerned about the hostility and ridicule from his colleagues. To be precise, he was protected by Judy's approval and trust, making him highly resilient to external criticism, whether based on prejudice against the fox or dislike of his personality.

But Judy is different. And Judy cares not only about "whether I can protect Zootopia and be a good role model for small animals", but also hopes that her and Nick's teamwork will be recognized by everyone.

So after get off work, one of them would stroll home and enjoy life, while the other would be frustrated by the news of himself and his partner getting into trouble again, and take the "problems" of working with Nick as seriously as if they were studying a book.

Judy's conscientiousness is her strength, and the pressure and internal conflict she experiences from being too serious is one of the growth storylines in this film. —The other, of course, is her relationship with Nick.

(After watching the Chinese dub, I realized that Judy's "growth story" was actually summarized at the beginning through her video call with her parents, via her dad's lines, which included not only how to get along with them but also "don't take things too seriously.")

The second question is about Nick:

Has Nick been "weakened" compared to the first movie? All the highlights are for others, while he's the one who makes a fool of himself? He doesn't seem to have much initiative in following Judy around, and does the "Judy brain" make the character out of character?

In the first movie, Nick, except for the scene with Mr. Big, always seemed very capable, especially in his moments of standing up for Judy, his good sense of being the know-it-all of Zootopia, and in the turning point where he and Judy parted ways, he was both the "right" and the "hurt" party.

I can understand why some viewers were dissatisfied with Nick's portrayal in the second film. It's not that they expect the character to be perfect and flawless, but rather that they couldn't accept their favorite character being reduced to a clown for others to laugh at (here, "others" refers to both the situations in the film and the audience). Furthermore, his endearing qualities from the first film, such as his intelligence and wit, weren't shown in a significant way; while his flaws were magnified, such as his arrogance and seemingly cowardly and escapist tendencies.

Although I don't agree with this view, I don't want to convince viewers who hold this view, since everyone has different aesthetic preferences when it comes to liking a character and appreciating how a character is portrayed.

I just want to talk about what I like about Nick in the second movie from my own aesthetic perspective, and what I understand to be the creative team's approach to character development that differs from the first movie.

Nick has a characteristic that we East Asians might particularly resonate with:

Shyness and sensitivity towards actively expressing affection in intimate relationships. (Here, affection does not only refer to romantic love.)

In the cable car scene of the first movie, Nick's avoidance of the topic when Judy comforts him after he confesses his childhood dream of joining the Boy Scouts is a classic example. Also, the much-discussed line at the end of the first movie, "You know you love me," shows that even though he loves Judy too, he still needs her to explicitly tell him that he is loved and worthy of her affection and trust. (Again, it's important to emphasize that "love" here doesn't just refer to romantic love.)

The second part also continued this characteristic.

But Nick is "better" than us awkward East Asians in that, although he can be sarcastic at times, he would never unconsciously put himself in a superior position in a close relationship by belittling or belittling the other person. Even though he can't say it out loud, Judy can receive his support, trust and tolerance.

At the same time, the film clearly tells us that some feelings and emotions still need to be expressed face-to-face.

Another thing I really liked about Nick in the second movie was that he seemed much more consistent with himself compared to the first movie, where he hid his cynicism beneath an indifferent smile. To use a somewhat outdated buzzword—he didn't fight back internally.

Despite becoming Zootopia's first fox police officer, he won't shoulder the responsibility of changing the image of his entire species like Judy does.

He still harbors a pessimistic outlook on reality, which is explicitly stated in the film through his line advising Judy to give up on the case. To elaborate further, Nick in the first film was also prone to giving up (for example, when he and Judy were trapped in the cliffside shelter). This point is repeatedly emphasized in the second film, making him appear more cowardly and escapist. However, the audience can clearly feel that he and Judy are happy and proud to work as police partners.

The emphasis on Nick being "Judy's brain" was indeed a bit of a surprise to me on my first viewing. I'm sure I wasn't the only one; when I watched the first movie, I thought Nick becoming a policeman was partly to fulfill my childhood dream of being a Boy Scout.

However, the second film also explicitly tells the audience through dialogue that Nick chose to become a policeman because of Judy; he wanted to be Judy's partner. Therefore, his childhood desire to become a Boy Scout might not have stemmed from a sense of justice, but rather from a desire to fit in and make friends. Of course, it's also possible that he did indeed harbor a sense of justice as a child, but those aspirations have been worn away as he's grown up.

This does present a problem, making Nick seem to lack a certain sense of agency; he doesn't prioritize his own desires but rather puts Judy first in everything.

This is a fantastic setting for shippers, with a love-struck mind being the best dowry.

To be honest, I'm not a shipper for these two. I like the characters themselves and the chemistry between them, but I'm not the kind of viewer who would define what exactly is the feeling or relationship between them.

So I wonder if this kind of character development, which seems to center on the female lead, is a deprivation of Nick, and even a weakening of his abilities and image?

When I watched it a second time, I was certain of my answer: of course not.

People will naturally praise the character for using specific career goals as a direction and dream in life, which makes the path between effort and reward clearly visible.

However, I don't particularly agree with taking other people's ideas as a kind of dream based on more abstract emotions, especially nowadays. I even think it's foolish to entrust one's life to others.

If we place this on Nick Wilde in Zootopia, a fox who is used to being alone and has given up on exploring a lifestyle other than cheating and deception, he will be completely changed after meeting Judy.

Striving to stay by the side of the animals you love, care about, and cannot lose, who also love you, can hardly be considered a life goal for a fox.

As for Nick's arrogance about his past as a 12-year-old who's been involved in the underworld and then makes a fool of himself, this is, after all, an all-ages animated film. What's wrong with the protagonist making a fool of himself and having a laugh? Will Jodie stop loving Nick because of these embarrassing moments? Do the viewers who already like him think he's useless?

The third question I wanted to discuss was whether Judy and Nick's partnership resulted in Judy being too domineering and Nick being too subservient. But I've already written too much above, and I also feel that if you can draw such a conclusion after watching the second movie, there's not much to seriously refute. I'll just laugh it off.

A hike that started strong but ended weak

The pacing in the first half was great, and at one point I even wondered if it would surpass the first film.

As it turns out, the second movie's formula still holds true (actually, I was vaguely worried because the trailer kept playing on the old joke, "I'm just a stupid rabbit").

The biggest problem with this work is the pervasive sense of "scriptwriting design."

Judy Hopps abandoned Nick Wilde at a crucial moment, only concerned with investigating the case? The Hopps and Snakes were so focused on advancing the main plot that they ignored Nick? Nick was locked outside an iron gate and nearly burned to death, while Judy just stared anxiously at the computer screen? This severely violates Judy Hopps' character design; it's the writers forcibly creating dramatic conflict to make the character a scapegoat. In the end, Nick Wilde actually teamed up with Tom Nook to escape on his own… Even when the two revealed their true feelings, it was all in banter, and Judy never formally apologized to Nick. The character arc wasn't properly resolved. (Judy seems mean and overly liberal, but that's not the Judy Hopps I know.) All the comedic moments in this film were piled on Nick Wilde, making him seem pitiful. In this film, he loses himself, becoming Judy's appendage, tool, babysitter, janitor, and fall guy, abandoned at crucial moments, only to rush over and apologize to Judy later. But he should be the confident and arrogant Disney prince we love, Nick Wilde. Then there's the character Bob. When I first saw him, my brain didn't even register it; my cerebellum just told me he was going to turn against us. Sure enough, I laughed with relief later on. This villain is a classic example of a villain, a safe haven from clichés. And his logic is laughable: he wants recognition. So, is it more reliable to fawn over your imprisoned father, clinging to a hollow promise? Or is it more likely to gain the approval of all the animals and become famous in Zootopia by following the fox and rabbit to uncover the truth? The lynx family always reminded me of the Rothschilds, Morgans, and Carnegies. I wonder if such a century-old, top-tier family with monopolistic power would collapse just because the protagonist group gets a (potentially expired) patent? They can forge patents, murder citizens, and control a violent machine; would they be afraid of a yellowed, flimsy piece of paper from the protagonist group? Would Mayor Ma risk everything to side with the protagonist group because of a single sentence from Tom Nook? In the end, the lynx family was left with only the father and two children fighting alone, and they were easily defeated by Mayor Ma. What happened to your bodyguard group? (The portrayal of these large corporations and families is even less impactful than the intimidating presence of a certain local PR firm.) The villains in this film, such as Bobo and his father, are caricatured and stereotyped, which is not a good sign. Many film critics pointed out during the release of *Ne Zha 2* that caricaturing villains is extremely self-degrading. Disrespecting characters in the villainous position severely damages the film's rationality and seriousness. Furthermore, the Zootopia police, who have consistently acted as accomplices to the villains—such as the annoying Erzhu, the black-and-white pair, and especially the biggest protector, Mayor Ma (who completely disregards Zootopia's laws), suddenly side with the lynx family, only to be smoothly redeemed and dance with them at the end. This transition is abrupt and lacks credibility. (This is also very similar to *Ne Zha 2*.) The villains lack intimidation but are overly intellectually deficient. While this is a light comedy style, it severely weakens the sense of urgency among the fox and rabbit protagonists and disrupts the film's pacing.

The second major problem lies in the "laziness of the writers." All the characters in this show have become mere plot devices. Mr. "The Godfather" appears to save the fox and rabbit and provide information; Tom Nook appears to save the fox and rabbit and provide information; Gaggle appears to save Judy and stop the Zootopia police; Donut Leopard appears to provide information to Nick; Flash appears to save Nick; Tom Nook saves Judy incidentally; and then these characters flash by, finally appearing at Gaggle's concert… (And Chief Bogo, besides creating dramatic conflict for the fox and rabbit and then lying around for the entire episode, what did you actually do, ending up wearing that little suit and dancing at Gaggle's concert?!) The animals of Zootopia have all become plot devices; where is the infinite potential in each animal? In the critical moment when Judy was stabbed and Nick was about to be ambushed by Bobbert (I genuinely thought Nick would have a backup plan, that he would definitely turn the tables and kill Bobbert), there was no strategic maneuvering, no backup plan from the main characters; Gary simply had a sudden burst of energy and saved Judy, even taking down three Zootopia police officers. During Nick and Bobbert's life-or-death struggle on the rooftop, there were no extreme action scenes or brilliant rescue strategies; Judy saved Nick through emotional manipulation and irrational speed. At the crucial moment when the fox and rabbit opened up to each other, a barrage of words actually dissolved the serious emotional buildup that had been building throughout the film. Aside from a hug, their relationship seemed to have returned to normal, with no real progress whatsoever. (The screenwriter owes the fox and Nick an apology!) From this point on, the pacing of the second half of the film completely collapsed! And then, at the end, two annoying pigs appeared, knocked Bobbert unconscious with a frying pan, and then stuffed him with a hamburger??? I thought the "irresistible pig" storyline had a twist, but then the scene cuts to the theme song... I thought this was a Nolan Batman-style fake ending within a real one, but it really ended?? I thought the sheep deputy mayor's escape would be foreshadowing a major plot twist in the third movie, but it was just a cameo appearance in the post-credits scene where the fox and rabbit capture her at the airport? A weak ending, that's not clever, darling! Besides, the core story of this film is still a narrative of the suffering spectacle of Native Americans being driven from their homes, racial segregation, and cultural extinction, combined with Western universal values, the elimination of discrimination, the bridging of racial conflicts, and the equal rights of every animal—a classic narrative. Not only does it feel out of place in the East, but seeing this narrative again in 2025 feels utterly bland.

The third major problem lies in the "opportunistic nature of screenwriters".

The entire film is crammed with artificial sweeteners, and the ambiguity is ridiculously overdone, yet we're still best friends. We all "love" each other, but sorry, we're still "partners." It's hypocritical, ripping off the audience and sitting at the same table as Conan next door. Thinking back to Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps' outfits in their opening scene, it felt strangely familiar—right, it's Mission Impossible. In the end, it really became a low-budget Mission Impossible (animal version). The post-credits scene suggests they're really going to treat Zootopia as a cash cow franchise. Sigh… The audience left the theater in silence. My current feeling about Zootopia 2 is: Disney, you can make any movie bad, but my Zootopia can't be bad, it absolutely cannot be bad. After watching this film, I didn't reach the point where I could criticize it, nor could I praise it. It was just okay, nothing special, but I still feel a sense of disappointment. A feeling of loss. PS: After reading many audience and critic analyses, I have even more uncontrollable emotions. The most crucial element of Zootopia is its portrayal of the genuine emotions between Judy and Nick. This is why we loved the first film so much, and why we loved the fox and rabbit duo, regardless of whether they were a couple. In the second film, however, we see only layers of polished, superficial "emotions." The second film has too much grand good and beauty, but it lacks authenticity. (In my mind, Nick is composed and at ease, and Judy, though seemingly weak, possesses a strong core. The second film, however, portrays Nick as losing himself and becoming a sycophant, while Judy is arrogant and selfish.) When Zootopia lacks this crucial element of authenticity, if the fox and rabbit follow the same character arc and direction as in the second film, I think we can only look on pessimistically at their future and bid farewell to our cherished childhood memories…

Zootopia 2 was exhausting to watch, offering little in the way of healing. The reason is simple: the relationship between the fox and the rabbit is incredibly tiring. The psychiatrist's presence is extremely prominent, and in reality, the fox-rabbit relationship is a classic example of a toxic one. From the moment the official statement declared the fox and rabbit's relationship to be "pure friendship," an emotional torment was inflicted on both the characters and the audience.

In the previous installment, the fox and rabbit had built up their emotions to the extreme, seemingly on the verge of sleeping together; however, after nine years of waiting, their relationship has stalled. The fox's avoidance tendencies have worsened—he can't speak his mind, claiming it's due to "childhood trauma." In reality, he constantly verbally attacks Judy, using various jokes as a pretext to provoke strong reactions from the straightforward Judy; simultaneously, he's extremely introspective, particularly I-oriented, and has a multitude of thoughts, hoping Judy has mind-reading abilities and can appease him amidst his sharp tongue.

"I won't say I love you, but I hope you love me."

Nick's behavior pattern is actually closer to a dating technique commonly found in various PUA tutorials. It involves mentally transforming oneself into a "yellow-haired" person, constantly making non-aggressive but slightly offensive gestures towards the girl, giving her a slap followed by a treat, making her scream in anger like she's on a psychological rollercoaster. In this way, it starts by disturbing her mind, making her restless, and eventually leading to dependence.

So, having seen it all before, Ai Haibara, upon encountering Kaito Kid who frequently used this trick, immediately retorted flippantly: "Hmph, I hate this kind of (slick-tongued) man the most." (But she still couldn't escape Shinichi Kudo's constant attempts to win her over; this is what is meant by the mutual manipulation between comrades in arms.)

In developing Nick Wilde, *Zootopia 2* didn't forget to add a touch of jealousy and deep affection to his glib tongue. For the Asian market, this is a familiar trope, but effective. It must be said that Nick in this film completely lacks the dashing roguishness of the first movie; he seems like a stereotypical, sharp-tongued male protagonist from a Tomato novel—attacking you, hurting you, with a sharp tongue but a soft heart, yet he will always silently love you; you are his only one, and he still keeps your photos in his room.

But what's the point of such a character? It's more like a comforting excuse from wish-fulfillment novels: "The person who hurt you didn't mean it; they secretly love you." But in reality, those who hurt you not only want to hurt you, but also many other people.

Judy becomes even more abstract in this installment. Her sense of justice and straightforwardness, which should have been endearing qualities, are amplified to an extreme in order to fit the theme "We are different." She transforms from a clever rabbit who knows little about Zootopia but is courageous in exploring it into a reckless brute who disregards her own life and companions. Her pursuit of justice is closer to an obsession with grand narratives: "I want to achieve great things," "I want to save the world." It's as if she has no foxes, no parents or family, and is merely a cold-blooded and ruthless crime-solving machine.

Worse still, in this metaphysical pursuit, the rabbit seems to completely ignore the fox's individual needs and spiritual values; she just keeps repeating every day that she must always uphold justice, to the point that she is completely unaware that when she pops out of the pipe and tells the fox "losing the goal has nothing to do with it," her demeanor is already incredibly close to that of an animal.

That moment clearly demonstrated that she had no respect for the fox, only projection of her own feelings onto it; the fox was merely a tool for her to realize her personal value.

The cliff-climbing scene is the most emotionally weakest moment in the entire film, resembling a melodramatic love story from a Tomato novel: "I will never say I love you, and you don't care whether I live or die." A little more realistic than the Tomato novel would be that, in the novel, the author would write, "Although I'm arrogant to the point of being sarcastic, and you're straightforward to the point of being a jerk, we are truly physically attracted to each other, and we will fight a hundred rounds—"—as catnip for the vast number of female readers suffering from emotional torment.

But in the Disney world, Disney officially stated that the fox and the rabbit are purely friends. This adds an even more toxic layer to their already twisted and toxic relationship—yes, it's already like this, they've risked their lives for each other, he's already driven to the brink of despair by missing her, but it's still ambiguity, still a further emotional tug-of-war, nothing has changed. The rabbit will repeatedly play "Love You" from the carrot voice recorder in the post-credits scene like a young girl experiencing her first love, and the fox will secretly put the carrot voice recorder back together, but he is still that fox who says one thing and means another, and she is still that rabbit who constantly projects her personal pursuits onto her friend.

Nothing has changed. Driven by the demands of capital, they will continue to hurt each other, maintaining an ambiguous yet steadfast partnership.

Because capital demands that we make family-friendly movies, the fox and the rabbit are cursed. Their most beautiful moments of interaction can only remain in ambiguity, suspicion, sharp tongues, and hurt. They will forever remain just a pure friendship for children.

What a vicious curse!

Sigh, capital.

It's hard to find a more tragic and toxic couple than the fox and the rabbit.

I could almost hear the fox and the rabbit crying loudly backstage after their performance, "Don't hurt me."

Saying one thing and meaning another is the most tiring and worst way to communicate.

Sorry is the hardest word to say.

I'm afraid of losing to you, and you're afraid of losing to me. If the balance between us doesn't break down, we'll remain deadlocked forever.