On November 22, 2019, we all move into the unknown. Disney will release Frozen 2, a risky creative move no matter which way you slice the iceberg. It’s the ubiquitous studio’s first ever theatrically released musical sequel, it continues the story to a modern classic that finished its arc perfectly, it has to conjure up songs that somehow need to compete with the banger-ness of “Let it Go,” and it’s facing the societal hostility against Coco opener Olaf's Frozen Adventure (which I, dear reader, will always love). That’s a lot of pressure to live up to! And it got me thinking: Have there been any successful Disney sequels?

As it turns out: Yeah! While many of Disney’s most iconic titles did gain some direct-to-video monstrosities that are more Disney- than Disney+ (nailed it!), the Mouse House did manage some high-quality revisits along the way. Now, for your viewing pleasure (all of these are currently available on Disney+, except for Ralph Breaks the Internet, which is currently on Netflix and comes to Disney+ December 11, 2020), enjoy some of the best Disney sequels ever made.

Note: I’ve stuck with “Disney in-house” content only, which means no Star Wars, Marvel, or Pixar films (because, let’s face it, that would be unfair).

Ralph Breaks the Internet

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Image via Walt Disney Pictures

Wreck-It Ralph is perfect. A masterpiece that absolutely told a perfect beginning-to-end arc for its title character (John C. Reilly) and absolutely did not need a sequel. And yet, Disney gave us one. And they absolutely justified its existence by borrowing the playbook by their colleagues/rivals in animation: Pixar. As the Toy Story franchise kept working by virtue of its willingness to heighten all of its colors -- more darkness, more humor, more action set pieces -- so too does Ralph Breaks the Internet. This is, ostensibly, a family film for children to enjoy. A film that ditches the Gen-X-leaning arcade video game reference points of its predecessor for Gen-Z ready Internet references (my goodness, do I love Taraji P. Henson’s Buzzfeed-skewering Yesss). And yet, it’s also a film that climaxes with a viscerally terrifying monster made out of, literally, Ralph’s insecurities and obsessive tendencies regarding his friend Vanellope (Sarah Silverman). And I love every damn second of it. Is its screenplay, from returning writer Phil Johnston and franchise newcomer Pamela Ribon, as bulletproof tight as the first one? No. And I’m not sure it should be. I love how big, bold, broad, and downright messy Ralph Breaks the Internet is. It’s got a lot on its mind -- from existential crises to gender politics to the unnecessary grittiness of contemporary media -- and we deserve to experience it all and go along for the ride. Plus, it features one of Disney’s most crackerjack comedy sequences in the studio’s entire history by making fun of the studio’s entire history. Vanellope visits every single Disney princess, voiced largely by their original actors, and it is a damn good time full of damn good jokes.

Aladdin and the King of Thieves

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Image via Walt Disney Home Video

The Return of Jafar is bad. Woof, is it bad. And if that turned you off from exploring the third animated film in the Aladdin franchise, I wouldn’t blame you. But I would implore you to give Aladdin and the King of Thieves a chance. For one, Robin Williams is back as the Genie, after bitterly exiting the role before The Return of Jafar due to bad blood over Disney’s usage of his likeness in promotional materials (Dan Castellaneta, aka Homer Simpson, played him in the interim). And we, as a society, could use much of Robin Williams having an absolute ball as possible. For another, it combines the fun and pomp you’d expect from an Aladdin/Jasmine wedding with a mysterious and intriguing force of villainy that doesn’t let us forget the inherent edge in Aladdin’s backstory as, you know, a dang thief. Screenwriters Mark McCorkle and Robert Schooley get as close to Casablanca as a Disney DTV sequel will allow them to get, filling their narrative with delightful red herrings, dangerous MacGuffins, revelations of long-lost allies and villains, and even some explorations of class issues. And finally, while its music can never reach the highs of Alan Menken, Howard Ashman, and Tim Rice, the tunes do their job and thensome, adding to the general milieu of Aladdin’s score while trying some new stuff on for size. In particular, opening number “There's a Party Here in Agrabah” works as a perfect introduction to the charms of The King of Thieves. It gives you Williams doing all kinds of impression-hopping voicework over a jaunty, minor key, “Friend Like Me”-esque melody. It feels soothing, yet new.

The Lion King 1½

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Image via Walt Disney Home Entertainment

Forget Jon Favreau’s unnecessary 2019 CGI slog. This is the true Lion King adaptation we all need. The Lion King 1½ has an unusual title, to be sure -- but it ain’t no passing craze. It’s the only accurate way to summarize the film’s timeline. For, you see, this is the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead version of the original Lion King (appropriate, given The Lion King’s narrative debt to Hamlet), recentering the original narrative of the 1994 classic to two minor characters who really matter: Timon and Pumbaa. Nathan Lane and Ernie Sabella (with respect to Billy Eichner and Seth Rogen, who are the shining spots of the new LK) return to their roles like a comfortable pair of slippers. It just feels nice to hear these two characters bicker and ad lib their way through all kinds of vaudeville-feeling shenanigans. And The Lion King 1½ really leans into the vaudeville, Marx Brothers vibe of it all, starting from a cuckoo-bonkers self-referential place (Timon and Pumbaa literally watching the original film in a theatre!) and moving on comedically from there. I love this film’s audacity in revisiting iconic moments from its predecessor just to show us how little they mattered without Timon and Pumbaa, and how irreverent they treat these sequences once they get there. With some surprisingly rich exceptions: Director Bradley Raymond and writer Tom Rogers aren’t just here to craft a cleverly oiled joke machine. They’re actually interested in giving Timon and Pumbaa flaws, arcs, and fears, making them protagonists I’d love to follow in other movies to come. Can they interrupt Favreau’s take next, MST3K style?

Fantasia 2000

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Image via Buena Vista Pictures

How can you even make a sequel to Fantasia, Walt Disney’s 1940 passion project that’s a plotless, borderline avant-garde series of animated vignettes set to some of our most celebrated pieces of classical music? Well… by making some new plotless, borderline avant-garde series of animated vignettes set to some of our most celebrated pieces of classical music. I saw Fantasia 2000, released counterintuitively in 1999, at my hometown’s brand spankin’ new IMAX theatre. And it was a transformative, even overwhelming experience. Even at that young age, I was a huge music dork, especially about George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue.” And wouldn’t you know it -- Fantasia 2000 features Gershwin’s jazz-tinged masterpiece, accompanied by striking, beautiful, colorful, stylized, and downright fun animation (other iconic pieces include Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance, and Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite). Words can’t really do justice to the guttural impact these musical art pieces provide. It’s an effective, entertaining way to introduce classical music to youngsters. It’s a compelling case for the inherent power remaining in the intersection between animation as a creative and technical medium -- particularly when compared to the 1940 predecessor. And it’s just… pure cinema. There’s no need for narrative contrivances, justification for visual choices, or pretense for traditional intellectual comprehension. When the combination of these sounds with these images hits you, it provides something nothing else ever can. Oh, also, there’s very good bits between Steve Martin and Mickey Mouse. Can’t leave that unmentioned.

The Rescuers Down Under

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Image via Buena Vista Pictures

Among the many sincere pleasures in The Rescuers Down Under, the 1990 Australian-set sequel to 1977’s lovely The Rescuers, you get to hear Hollywood icons Bob Newhart and Eva Gabor (in her last screen performance) reprise their roles as Bernard and Bianca, a mouse couple dedicated to going on adventures and lightly bantering with each other. And if your heart isn’t exploding with the wholesomeness of all of that, I don’t want to know you. You also get delightful performances from Hollywood legends like John Candy, George C. Scott (giving the villainous poacher his all), and voice acting superstar Frank Welker -- all performing in service of an emotionally rich, yet fleetly paced caper. It also, from a formal standpoint, is a truly underrated display of technological skill and awe-inspiring creativity. It was the first entirely computer-generated animated film made in the world, developed in part by Pixar. And its animators have friggin’ fun with their new toys, richly rendering the Australian outback with vibrant colors and beautiful, fluid character models. Its opening sequence, a fast-moving push through the outback scored propulsively with Australian textures by Bruce Broughton, wallops you on your feet. And its narrative, alternating between cute talking animals and a surprisingly adult environmental threat, picks you back up and inspires you. To other studios trying to produce quality animated sequels, I say this: That’s not a sequel. This… is a sequel.

An Extremely Goofy Movie

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Image via Walt Disney Home Video

Even if you never watch this film, you must admit this: It’s easily one of the top “sequel subtitles” ever written. From A Goofy Movie to An Extremely Goofy Movie? That’s high quality stuff right there, friend. And yet, it’s a touch of a lie. Not unlike Ralph Breaks the Internet, An Extremely Goofy Movie is less “extremely goofy” and more “incisively, borderline sadistically interested in examining the heartbreaking familial pain at the center of a cartoon dog meant for kids to enjoy.” Don’t get me wrong -- there’s a lotta goofy stuff in the sequel, especially for those who love revisiting the Mountain Dew-fueled nostalgia of the early 2000s (the climax takes place at the friggin’ X-Games!) and those who love potshots at the pretentiousness of college academia (Goofy’s love interest is an intellectual librarian voiced by friggin’ Bebe Neuwirth!). But An Extremely Goofy Movie’s plot -- a Billy Madison-esque scenario in which Goofy (Bill Farmer) must attend college at the same time as his son Max (Jason Marsden) -- is instigated by the deep, sorrowful, destructive pain of Goofy missing his child when he moves away. He misses Max so much that he causes a horrible accident and loses his job at his workplace, and he misses Max so much that he hovers and overwhelms him at college -- a place where Max is desperately seeking to find his own identity and sense of independence. Am I being a bit over-dramatic about the dramatics of An Extremely Goofy Movie? Maybe. But when you throw on the sequel and start weeping when Max lashes out against his father, and his father (Goofy, the cute dog children enjoy) totally gives up on life and goes home, don’t come crying to me. Actually, do come crying to me. I know what it’s like to cry during An Extremely Goofy Movie, and I’m happy to help.