‘Pocahontas’ Turns 25: “Colors of the Wind” Is the Best Disney Song of the ‘90s

Nostalgia is powerful. So much energy, perhaps especially now during a quarantine, is dedicated to reliving the past via comfort binges and #tbt. Nostalgia is the main reason why articles like this one right here get pitched and get clicked on; we want to relive the pop culture of our past, specifically our childhoods, so that we can feel something, anything.

So, Pocahontas turns 25 today, and yes, I’m nostalgic for it. I was 10 when this movie came out, and this was the new release that most influenced the one trip to Walt Disney World that I remember; yes, I have a photo of my bowl-cut-sporting fifth grade self standing in a Reebok t-shirt alongside the park’s “Pocahontas” and “John Smith.” But, as Mad Men pointed out, you can’t have the pleasure of nostalgia without pain—and Pocahontas is definitely, very that.

Pocahontas is a movie that takes tale of colonialism, genocide, and absolutely gross child-bride horrors and revises them into a totally sanitized, generally unremarkable Disney movie that slots neatly into the blockbuster formula that Disney locked into place on Oliver & Company—okay, okay, with The Little Mermaid (but justice for Oliver & Company). It’s very “you tried hard” for 1995, which is (rightfully!) nowhere near good enough in 2020 (rightfully!). But the truth that the movie around it is forgettable at best, cringe-inducing at worst really only proves one point: “Colors of the Wind” is the greatest Disney song of the Disney Renaissance, and there’s absolutely zero nostalgia influencing that statement. Revisiting the movie as an adult and realizing that it’s the definition of bland only makes “Colors of the Wind” stand out—and apart, on its own, free from artificial affection.

This is a bold statement, because Disney’s musical output from 1989 to 1999 is unimpeachable and has informed not only every single karaoke trip of the last 30 years, but our pop culture language. Declaring “Colors of the Wind” the best doesn’t diminish the glee of “Be Our Guest” or the soaring romance of “A Whole New World” or the vibe of “Hakuna Matata” or the powerful yearning of “Part of Your World.” These are all 5-star songs “Colors of the Wind” doesn’t get mentioned nearly as much as it should, perhaps because it’s from the movie it’s from. But it should, because it is also a 5-star song (and it also has an Academy Award, Grammy, and Golden Globe behind it).

Truthfully, the “Colors of the Wind” sequence sums up everything Pocahontas should have been about and it’s really the only part of the movie that gets it: it’s John Smith, an arrogant Englishman voiced by a deeply problematic Australian with an inexplicably American accent, getting read to filth by Pocahontas. The sequence, when viewed apart from the rest of the film, cuts through the lies kids are told in school about the origin of this country. She’s saying that the buildings and roads Smith and his colonizers want to build are not inherently better than what Pocahontas and her tribe—and all the tribes—have already built. They’re just different, and while the colonizers think the native peoples are missing out, Pocahontas clearly articulates that it’s really the greedy, pompous invaders that are missing out. And she does all this through song.

“Colors of the Wind,” sung in the film by Judy Kuhn and on the radio by Vanessa Williams, is an emotionally-stirring power ballad against capitalism, materialism, racism, all the evil-isms. That’s what sets it apart from all the other 5-star Disney songs; I love “Under the Sea,” but that song doesn’t make me feel the way “Colors of the Wind” does—a song that comes halfway through an otherwise tepid film! The song makes you go from 0 to 100 on the feelings (and then back down to 0).

What’s remarkable about “Colors of the Wind,” though, is that it somehow lives up to the task of making an emotionally-stirring power ballad about incredibly serious topics both sincere and resonant instead of wince-inducing and cheesy. It’s like all of the magical synergy between animation, music, and words that Disney usually spreads out across all 80 minutes of its films was condensed into one 4-minute punch. Alan Menken’s music is anthemic, which adds gravitas to lyrics that could easily veer into Hallmark card territory—and honestly might read that way when divorced from the instrumentation and animation. But really listen to the lyrics and, just, damn, the wordplay.

You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You’ll learn things you never knew, you never knew

The way lyricist Stephen Schwartz repeats “you never knew,” it adds a bit of stylistic flourish through repeating the phrase while also doubling down on just how far removed the colonizers are from even beginning to understand what they’re missing.

How high will the sycamore grow
If you cut it down, then you’ll never know

This applies to so much more than just trees. And then there’s my favorite line:

Those two lines, “You can own the Earth and still all you’ll own is earth until,” like—using both meanings of the word Earth, underscoring how the junk you throw on top of land means nothing if you forsake the beauty that’s already there—there’s a real people vs. property argument to be made here (reinforced by the line “and we are all connected to each other” from earlier in the song).

Paired with the animation, the most adventurous animation of the entire film BTW, it just sings. It’s such an effective way of demonstrating—in a children’s movie!—a point-of-view on American history that you don’t get in textbooks. It makes you feel the breeze, smell the grass, hear the stampede—it makes you nostalgic. It makes you nostalgic for an America that existed hundreds of years ago, before Starbucks and outdoor shopping centers and highways and sprawl. I don’t know what it is behind the alchemy of lyrics, song, and animation that makes “Colors of the Wind” so powerful—and I apologize for taking 900 words to sum up with “I don’t know.” But it is powerful, and it makes me yearn for harmony. That’s so cheesy, I know it is, but somehow I cry every time I watch this sequence. How does it do it every time?!

But Pocahontas undoes all this good with it’s “uplifting” happy ending wherein good colonizers turn on the bad one and a truce is struck between the native people and the invaders. The message of “Colors of the Wind” is ignored, which we know because… uh, we’re living in America. We chop down so many trees before knowing how high they’ll grow. Men only want to own the Earth. People who know nothing dangerously think they know everything. We aren’t painting with any colors of the wind. We’ve got one yellow-green Crayola and it’s been worn down to a nub.

All these complex emotions, emotions about justice and society that you don’t expect to feel from a Disney movie, make “Colors of the Wind” a triumph. And it’s why it, and not the whole movie, are worthy of your nostalgia. Nostalgia is pleasure and pain, and “Colors of the Wind” has both and so many shades in between.

Stream Pocahontas on Disney+