Volume 5, Entry 36: I 2 I

Dancing and singing with A Goofy Movie

In May 1995, Mom and Merry drove their four kids up to Arden.

Typically, a visit to Arden would center around shopping in the multi-story mall by the freeway or a meal at the only Olive Garden around at the time, but this trip saw us visiting the movie theater down the street. Elk Grove was still a year away from theaters of its own, so this was the closest venue the moms could find for us to watch Disney’s latest release, A Goofy Movie.

Despite going to the movies more than 600 times since then¹, I still count that nine-year-old third grader’s trip among my most memorable theater experiences. Why? The theater accidentally directed us to a screening of the Mel Gibson epic Braveheart rather than our G-rated Disney feature. The guy working apologized and guided us to a private screening room, all to ourselves. Because of that space, Julia, Kathryn, Tom, and I descended the stairs and danced through the credits that reprise the film’s climactic song.

In part because of age but also surely because of that entire day’s novelty, I became a big fan of A Goofy Movie afterward. Although John Denver played on endless loops during car rides in that era, my cassette of choice at home was the soundtrack to A Goofy Movie. To this day, I can sing all six of its musical set-pieces from memory, but I can also recall minor moments from the movie with uncanny accuracy. I shouldn’t remember the color-grading during Pete’s spit-take or associate Cheez Whiz with blossoming background romance, but I do. Those details, among so many others, live rent-free in my mind to this day.

Still, because my first viewing occurred almost three decades ago, A Goofy Movie has long been a prime candidate for revisitation. I’ve half-listened to a few “underrated masterpiece” video essays about the film and popped it on once or twice as an adult, but I’ve never examined it with anything remotely resembling a critical eye.

That idea has sat in my “Newsletter Topics” list since I added its first bullet point, but film criticism wasn’t my plan for this week…until Amazon led me there. I reviewed longtime family favorite Galaxy Quest last week for our principal’s staff newsletter, and that fortuitous turn prompted me to watch the sci-fi comedy on Friday. When it concluded, Prime Video (obnoxiously) started another movie seconds into the credits. That was A Goofy Movie. I watched it from start to finish while working on lesson plans after dinner.

Like my piece about Past Lives in February, this isn’t so much a review as an amalgamation of thoughts, connections, and takeaways from the film. I don’t have a central thesis beyond “A Goofy Movie rocks”, but I hope my openness enhances the piece—this is about a G-rated Disney flick from the 90s, after all.

If you haven’t seen A Goofy Movie, I highly recommend it as a film about generational divides, communication, and family that’s wiser than it has any business being. But if that doesn’t appeal to you, I might encourage you to watch the final concert scene at least. Even without greater context, you’ll probably laugh, possibly cry, and definitely rock out like nine-year-old me once did in a movie theater.

If that alone doesn’t also describe A Goofy Movie, I don’t know what would.

*****

Despite the iconic character’s name in its title, A Goofy Movie doesn’t center on Disney’s top dog as much as his son, Max.

First introduced in the Disney Afternoon series Goof Troop, Max ages into high school for his feature film debut. Wearing baggy jeans and an oversized red hoodie, Max stands in for seemingly every cinematic teenage boy in the 1990s: he’s annoyed by school, ostracized by his peers, and ignored by the girl he adores.

On the last day before summer, Max decides to change things. Hijacking a monotonous assembly, he performs an elaborate dance routine while lip-syncing to a song by chart-topping artist Powerline. While the act ends in calamity, his performance is a hit with the student body. Unfortunately, it’s less popular with the principal, who admonishes Max’s hooliganism to the only person on his emergency contact card: his single father, Goofy.

Known for his lanky frame, full-throated laugh, and slapstick silliness, Goofy makes for the perfect counterpoint to his kid. Shameless, folksy, and painfully old-fashioned, Goofy is a relic of a bygone era of animation, and the modern, culture-obsessed Max regards him as a dopey dinosaur. Max wants to be cool and fit in, but his dad maintains the cornball sensibilities of the 50s, wholly unaware that his “Aw, shucks” demeanor is cringey.

Max especially resents his father because of what he represents regarding Max’s future. Goofy’s son has nightmares about genetics where his father’s elongated snout, over-large teeth, and legendary laugh become his own. Max doesn’t want to become an awkward anachronism, so he pushes Goofy away. He wants nothing to do with his dad.

Which stings because Goofy only has his son. Working as a department store photographer, Goofy preserves adolescence all day, only to return home at night to find scowling proof of his obsolescence at the dinner table. Max isn’t a little boy anymore; he doesn’t need or respond to the same dad he had a decade ago. But Goofy only knows one way to be, and he fears growing apart from the sun his planet orbits.

In that way, Max’s stunt at school actually inspires his father. Convinced by the hyperbolic principal that Max’s current trajectory will end in prison, Goofy decides to take his son on a fishing trip during the first month of summer. He aims to reconnect with his boy as he once did with his dad, but primarily, he seeks to protect that boy from further corruption in a frightening world. Unfortunately, this poses an unexpected problem: Max’s theatrics caught Roxanne’s eye and positioned them for a date at a party centered around the live Powerline concert in two weeks…when he’ll be in Idaho fishing with his dumb dad.

Panicking, Max tells Roxanne that his dad knows Powerline and that their road trip is to LA to dance on stage with the star. Roxanne remains skeptical, but Max extracts a promise from his crush to wait and watch for him. Alas, it’s a pyrrhic victory: the trip’s still on, but Max has become a liar.

So Max and Goofy set off on their trip to Idaho from their upper midwestern home. Along the way, chaos ensues, as, of course, it would. There are run-ins with Goofy’s wealthy and overbearing neighbor Pete, who treats his son P.J. like an army private, there’s an uncomfortable afternoon at a cringe-inducing animatronic show for toddlers, and Bigfoot even shows up. Every scenario offers humor while crunching the duo into close quarters, but their chasm remains wide.

After one eventful night, Max seizes an opportunity and modifies his father’s map, redirecting them to Los Angeles. At first unaware, Goofy later finds out but refuses to question his son. Although Max feels guilty, an uneasy alliance forms as both pretend they’re getting what they want.

But that truce burns to ash when they’re traveling definitively southwest, and Goofy must come to terms with that betrayal. Animosity leads to carelessness, a car accident, and a harrowing near-death experience on a waterfall, but the danger enables the two to talk. Max comes clean about Roxanne and his lie, while Goofy admits to paternal insecurity. When they survive the ordeal, Goofy endeavors to put his son on stage at the concert and save him from his mistake, leading to a wild finale that sews up every loose thread in six riveting minutes.

In many ways, A Goofy Movie suits a younger audience perfectly. Ignoring credits, the film’s runtime lands under 73 minutes, and the script moves with incredible efficiency. As a cross-country road trip movie, the scenery constantly churns, stringing silly moments between more mature plot-developing discussions. Goofy’s slapstick leanings also lend to entertainment, with his long limbs conducive to madcap antics and dancing alike, while Max’s puppy love felt relatable even to prepubescent me.

And that says nothing of the incredible soundtrack that kept the movie in my life long after we left Arden. Several songs belong on Broadway, artfully balancing storytelling demands with catchiness. The weakest of them, “Lester’s Possum Park”, is nevertheless an earworm, but the best manage to excel on several levels. “After Today” marks Max’s “I Want” song but also characterizes high school for younger viewers in a colorful and kinetic way. (My favorite song from La La Land, “Another Day of Sun”, always evokes this one for me.) “On the Open Road” lets animators throw random characters and sight gags galore at the wall, but it also formalizes Max’s and Goofy’s contrasting perspectives visually rather than verbally. Lastly, “Nobody Else But You” sets reconciliation and honest dialogue against a heartstring-tugging score, letting father and son voice their harsh truths without venom seeping through. In all three, the story meaningfully progresses, and the world widens, but the songs remain fun and singable melodies presented with creative panache.

The soundtrack to A Goofy Movie also features two other original songs. Sung by Tevin Campbell as the fictional superstar Powerline, “Stand Out” and “I 2 I” are certified bangers. Although we danced to the latter in the theater that day, “Stand Out” is itself an incredible piece that feels plucked straight off a Best of the 90s compilation. Both include fantastic production that backs up Campbell’s soaring vocals. It’s not an exaggeration to say that Powerline sang the first rock music I sincerely loved.

That tends to be where I’ve always stopped in my praise of A Goofy Movie: it’s got an endearing story and a killer soundtrack. It’s good for what it is, I said. I viewed it as a minor Disney doodle designed to build up Goofy’s brand visibility in the 90s, a movie that lucked into its heart and quality. There’s no shame in that, by the way. Not many Disney animated flicks outside the mainline turned out this well. Bravo, but let’s move on.

Except that’s where my latest watch elevated my admiration for the film. Watching this familiar favorite with an adult’s eye transformed my impression. I had considered A Goofy Movie a happy accident, but I’m convinced it demonstrates sophisticated design and emotional nuance far exceeding its historical acclaim. There’s a ton of meat on the bone despite its minimal minutes.

Because A Goofy Movie centers on the relationship between a kid and an adult, the reaction I anticipated was increased empathy for Goofy. I don’t have kids, but I’ve worked closely with young people since I was sixteen, and I’m inching closer to middle-aged Goofy’s general status as a clumsy dinosaur. My wizened eyes should feel for Max’s dad now more than ever.

My empathy for a character increased on this watch—but that empathy was for Max more than his father. Certainly, I feel for Goofy, who’s raising a teenage boy alone while always present, persistent, and paternal to a fault, but Max is at a stage where he yearns for independence. That isn’t Goofy’s fault so much as a side effect of time’s passage, but I can imagine Max’s rejection stinging. His son is a jerk to him. Period.

Nevertheless, Max’s teenage troubles landed differently for me this time. Before, I took them at face value and saw the world blocking him at every turn, but now I see how much Max stands in his own way. Although Roxanne responds to his stunt, there’s evidence that she is already somewhat smitten with him. Max blames his awkwardness on his irrelevance, but Roxanne points to the very laugh that haunts him as something she adores. Did Max need to hijack an event to catch her eye? I mean, it worked…but I would argue he could have just talked to her instead of pining and plotting in the corner.

The same could be said of his peers. While Max views himself as an outcast, I might argue it’s less intense judgment than a combination of age and apprehension. Max doesn’t drive, so it’s safe to assume he’s a freshman or sophomore, and that puts him on the edge of the bustling world of seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds. He gets pushed around occasionally, but that mistreatment never seems personal. And when Max commandeers the assembly, his peers immediately applaud him. They seem very willing to cheer him on when given the chance.

To my eyes, most of Max’s misery manifests from his own making, but he’s also negatively affected by the adult world around him. At school, Principal Mazur is an obnoxious autocrat, hyperbolic with his rage and wholly unaware of his arrogant condescension. He thinks he rules with an iron fist, but he’s a laughing stock no one respects.

There’s also his dad. True, the well-meaning Goofy is a far cry from the myopic Principal Mazur, but he does make things difficult for Max. He resists acknowledging that his son is older, treating him like a little boy and bristling when this results in attitude. Goofy’s life centers on his son, and the turmoil there creates an immediate crisis. Scared and with a limited support system, Goofy panics. While he isn’t the same jerk as his neighbor Pete, he does treat Max the same way, forcing compliance rather than seeking understanding and compromise.

Communication is a topic I regularly land on during Therapy Thursdays, and it’s a concept that stood out in A Goofy Movie this time. Early on, neither Max nor Goofy listens to the other. Both seem to think they’re saying what they’re feeling—we alternately see scenes through each pair of eyes—but neither one does. They haven’t established a process for communicating with one another, so each remains in his respective box, stewing over the other’s inability to understand…as engineered by not inviting them to greater awareness.

That’s why I love the final act of the film. Although the wish-fulfillment concert is the more dynamic set piece, “Nobody Else But You” depicts the healing power of healthy communication. Floating down the river, Max and Goofy speak their truths and gift the other an opportunity to understand his perspective. They trade barbs—Goofy bemoans Max’s moodiness while Max characterizes his father as “missing a screw”—but neither winces from the criticism. They’re clearing the air, not by apologizing for their mutual injuries or pretending they didn’t happen, but by acknowledging the affection between them that overwhelms the pain. Neither interrupts and neither argues; they take turns singing verses before joining together in harmony.

The film doesn’t deliver an ending where anyone changes who they are; they change how they are by broadening their perspectives through dialogue. It’s quiet and small compared to the wild ride that closes the film, but it’s the movie’s greatest wisdom: communication mends fences. Yes, heroics and good fortune contribute to the ultimate resolution with Roxanne, but the star is heartfelt verbal communication between two men—not exactly a Hollywood staple.

There’s not a better takeaway I can imagine.

*****

Later, in 1995, the same six people returned to the theaters in Arden to watch Toy Story. Though technically produced by Disney, Toy Story kicked off an era when Pixar challenged assumptions about animation’s artistic potential. Pixar pictures worked on multiple levels, entertaining children and inspiring adults, and it wasn’t long until popular convention anointed Pixar as the animation studio with the deftest cinematic touch.

That reputation has tumbled somewhat in the 2020s (despite Inside Out 2 making $1.6B and counting), but I can’t argue against the company during the early millennium. Pixar’s early offerings presented visually inventive, kid-friendly stories drenched in themes apparent only to the adults in the room. It was Pixar, not Disney, who wrestled poignant moments and emotional clarity out of monsters, fish, and Broadway-obsessed robots. Monsters Inc., Finding Nemo, and WALL-E are beloved classics and entries in my Blu-Ray collection for good reason.

That said, watching A Goofy Movie reminds me that Pixar was not some peerless monolith. The Goof boys’ road trip frames a minor Disney feature around a legacy character nobody clamored for more of, but the film succeeds much like Pixar’s finest do. A simple, familiar story about an awkward teenager and his dad transforms into a story about acceptance, communication, and growing up, even while silly gags race across the screen. It’s entertaining, well-scripted, and impressively voiced like the best of its era. And unlike Pixar films, A Goofy Movie succeeds while saddled with the burden of being a movie musical under a restrictive runtime, perfectly balancing its numerous needs. Frankly, I’m blown away. I consider it a genuinely great movie.

With that said, I may be an outlier on A Goofy Movie. It sports a 6.9 rating on IMDB but merely 59% on Rotten Tomatoes; grown-up kids like me might remember it fondly, but history hasn’t razed it from the back catalog of Disney+. Though no masterpiece, I love it, but plenty of people remember it as barely even good, let alone on any level approaching the burying-brilliance-in-plain-sight Pixar.

That’s where I would beg to differ. I do think there’s more to A Goofy Movie than meets the eye. I’ve referenced some of the movie’s themes as a nod to its maturer-than-expected wisdom, and I’ve spoken to its thoughtful structure, quality music, and efficient storytelling as points in its favor. But do any of those elements evidence the purposeful construction that defines Pixar’s most outstanding work?

Yeah, probably not. Every detail seems to matter in a movie like The Incredibles or WALL-E, but I’d have a difficult time narrating the necessity of a drag-racing grandmother, a pet octopus, or Pauly Shore’s casting in A Goofy Movie. The seams show more in Max’s story than in Up. I don’t doubt some of what appeared on the screen in 1995 made it there just because.

And that’s okay. The film remains a beautiful balance of heart and humor that understays its welcome. The movie maintains Disney’s animated musical tradition while updating an otherwise musty character. A Goofy Movie doesn’t need to be Ratatouille to be successful. It doesn’t need to be that caliber.

Except I swear that it is—or at least, it’s greater than I thought before. Last Friday’s viewing was my first time with subtitles, meaning I watched in a way I hadn’t previously. Again, I know this script well and the music by heart, but I’ve never read any song’s lyrics. This includes those in “I 2 I”, a tune so magnetic that I still start dancing to it almost thirty years later. What’s “I 2 I” about? Who cares! It’s a plot device pop song! It’s there because Max promised a concert appearance during the final act.

Or is it? With the lyrics on my screen, I processed the singer’s words differently. Instead of letting female backup dancers and a limited nine-year-old’s perspective guide my comprehension, I read the actual words Campbell sings during that beloved scene.

I got myself a notion
And one I know that you'll understand
We set the world in motion
By reaching out for each other's hand

Maybe we'll discover
What we should have known all along, yeah
One way or another
Together's where we both belong

If we listen to each other's heart
(Oh yeah) we'll find we're never too far apart
And maybe love is the reason why
For the first time ever we're seeing it eye to eye

Since I was nine, I’ve heard this song as a generic pop song. If asked to elaborate, I’d have said it’s broadly about romantic love, not unlike so many other songs I adore. Within the movie’s story, that’s certainly what Max hears from it, so that’s how I heard it, too.

As an adult viewer interrogating the film for the first time, though, I see through that facade.

Within the script of A Goofy Movie, the lyrics of “I 2 I” don’t allude to a love interest in Illinois. That song isn’t about Max and his crush coming together.

It’s about Goofy and Max. It’s about a father and son.

In 1995, I danced during the credits as “I 2 I” played. In 2024, I cried.

Which is to say: I think I’m finally seeing eye to eye with the people who produced A Goofy Movie.

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By my count, this marks my 250th piece published on Substack. That round number probably deserves more attention than I’m offering it, but this piece took several days to come together. I didn’t have time to do more with it than this. Maybe I’ll think harder about post 300, which I will write next summer if everything goes according to plan. For this year and this week, Max and Goofy will speak for me on entry 250.

Some weeks, I know exactly what I’m going to write about and then execute that plan. During others, I labor through a piece while my mind buzzes with other possibilities. “I 2 I” represents the latter. On the flip side, I’ve known my intended topic for next week for over a year, and the subject matter for September 22nd’s has been written in ink since May.

Go figure.

1. Yes, I keep a spreadsheet