Let's Talk about Bruno: Family Wisdom from 'Encanto'
Dear friends,
Do we need to talk about Encanto? At first, we tried to resist talking about a movie ostensibly for children, but so many of you continued to bring up how the different characters and songs spoke to your own experiences. So, we don’t talk about children’s movies, BUT—
We have to begin by pointing out that Encanto is specifically addressing themes of displacement, intergenerational trauma, Lantinx culture, and the immigrant experience. Those are part of an underrepresented narrative in American media, and for that reason it has been speaking powerfully and uniquely to that population in ways that we would not be able to do justice (Thankfully, many other amazing writers with lived experience have. Here’s one example).
One of the reasons narrative is so powerful is the ability to capture one specific experience in ways that resonate with the audience. No matter your own background, we can all learn something from stories and the ways they mirror or differ from our own lives. Encanto covers so many different ways that unaddressed trauma ripples through families unintentionally. So if you felt seen after watching this movie, you aren’t alone. We’re breaking down a few ways each character suffers while waiting for healing. Spoiler alerts galore!
Alma: Alma’s story is one filled with postpartum trauma. She fears so much for the lives of her three infants, that she and her husband flee their home. Then, her husband and the father of her children is murdered in front of her. The miracle that she and her children survive begins to blot out her ability to express the depths of her loss. Instead, she responds to the lack of control she had in losing her husband, with a desire to “earn the miracle that somehow found us,” as if she and the family can remain so perfect as to be deserving of their survival and continued safety. It is only when she finally makes space to talk about the reality of her grief and trauma instead of focusing on just the gift of survival that she can free herself of that burden. Let’s just say that given our work, we’re pretty passionate about making sure parents have space to speak to their pain and process it in ways that heal.
Pepa: Pepa’s emotions are repeatedly invalidated as inconvenient or not in line with the image Alma is trying to project of a perfect family. She internalized the expectation and disallowed her own emotions. When we deny our own emotions, they don’t just go away. They reemerge as anger or eat us up as anxiety. We see both with Pepa. She’s trailed by a literal storm of anxiety that she’s repeatedly trying to shove down or mask with happy thoughts. At the other extreme, when her own anxiety pops up as a hurricane at her wedding, instead of addressing her own feelings, she comes back with anger for her brother. In the end, what frees Pepa is learning to “let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it go.”
Julieta: We know she is a kind and loving mother who can see both her own mother and daughter’s pain. Yet, when Maribel tries to tell her the truth and ask for her help, Julieta can only warn her not to wind up like Bruno. She doesn’t feel secure enough in the family to trust they can meet the truth together (a common theme for all the Madrigals). Her fear prevents her from offering that unconditional love and support to her own daughter in the ways she desperately wants to.
Bruno: Bruno’s character can be interpreted in so many ways. For some, his estrangement represents the brokenness of the family. Not talking about his absence results in it permeating everything they do. It’s the ever present undercurrent. Still other people feel like Bruno represents the way that people who are different can be misunderstood by and hurt by family that doesn’t take the time to see them for who they really are. Bruno sharing his gift with his family and community is consistently misinterpreted and he is blamed for their failure to understand. His overwhelming shame at letting down the family leads him to withdraw from those he most wants closeness with. He’s not free until Mirabel takes the time to recognize his gift and invite him to share it with her. Her love and acceptance of him empower him to step out of the shadows to help her.
Dolores: Since coming into her gift, she’s been privy to the whole families; secrets and dysfunction. She knows how much everyone is hurting, and she cannot escape the burden of knowing more than she should. But everyone’s listener has no one who is listening to her. She feels so much pressure to care for her delicate family that she’s unable to make space for her own needs and wants. She spends much of her screentime planning the wedding of her cousin to her crush and with a smile on her face. When healing comes to the family, she’s finally able to speak her truth and confess her love.
Camillo: To navigate the family’s dysfunction, Camillo has learned to keep them entertained. His humor and gift become a coping mechanism to protect him. He’s constantly shifting who he is to mirror the people he’s talking to—often literally turning into them. He’s rarely able to be serious and share any of his own emotions, wants, or goals. In fact, we learn almost nothing about him. He finally spends a long stretch of time as himself only after healing comes to the family.
Antonio: Even at a very young age, Antonio is already feeling the weight of Alma’s expectations. He’s hiding under his bed, afraid of disappointing everyone. After he receives his gift, there’s a passing criticism from his grandmother of his unruly animal friends—“I’m sure we’ll find a way to put your gift to use.” To be seen only as what you can contribute to the family and not as who you are is a heavy burden that leads straight to anxiety.
Isabella: Perfectionism is a burden springing up in response to the intense pressure Isabella feels to make the family proud of her. She’s not able to be herself or express her own wants and needs because she’s too busy trying to embody everyone else’s desires for her and her life. That fear holds her back from the fullness of what she can do, and it’s a familiar feeling for the perfectionists among us. When we ask ourselves, “What could I do if I just knew it didn't need to be perfect?” We might find that like Isabella the possibilities are more than what’s been imagined for us.
Luisa: If we are being honest (and aren’t we always) Luisa’s signature theme song was our original inspiration because Surface Pressure struck such a chord with parents balancing too much for too long during a pandemic. While of course this song speaks to a particular cultural dynamic, so many people could universally relate to the burden of being the strong one, the stable one, the responsible one. Crushed under the weight of endless pressure and expectations, her struggles to even carry the burdens that used to feel light. She starts to confuse her worth with her ability to do and even sings, “…I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service.” Too often we as parents can confuse who we are with what we do or don’t do, and we can think if we need to draw boundaries or say no that we are somehow less than as a result, but the result is the truth. Luisa is able to be stronger and explore other sides of herself when she finally feels the “joy, relaxation, or simple pleasures.”
Mirabel: When she cannot meet her grandmother’s expectations, Mirabel begins to believe she really is what everyone says she is—ungifted. She sings a whole song about how she “..can't move the mountains […] can’t make the flowers bloom […] can't heal what's broken […] Can't control the morning rain or a hurricane.” She’s despairing of finding a gift to help her family, when by the end of the movie she’s used her many talents to move the mountains around the Encanto, help Isabella grow new types of flowers, healed the hurting family, and helped Pepa get more in touch with her weather powers. Being told that she’s unremarkable makes her live her life that way. It’s only when she stops focusing on what her family expects her to be and is true to who she is that she’s able to really thrive.
In the real world, intergenerational trauma takes much more than a single conversation to unpack, and sometimes we’re on a healing journey of our own. That’s where we can come in—we’re here to help guide you and support you every step of the way. When we take the time to heal ourselves, we short circuit the cycle of trauma. We’re privileged to go with you on that journey.
Warmly,
Kellie Wicklund, LPC, PMH-C
Owner + Clinical Director
Christina Moran
Executive Director
