From Fairy Tale to Allegory
When children laugh at Judy and Nick’s adventures in the theater, adult viewers should realize that Zootopia 2 is far more than a family-friendly animation. The sequel continues the tradition of wrapping complex sociological questions in a colorful animal world, but its critical edge goes deeper.
If the 2016 Zootopia exposed personal prejudice and hidden discrimination, the 2025 sequel turns its camera on a more fundamental question: how oppression is woven into social structures themselves. This is no longer a moral fable about “good people can be biased too,” but a systematic critique of colonial history, spatial politics, and inherited power.
The English title Zootopia is a carefully designed paradox: “Zoo” (cage) plus “Utopia” (ideal society). It hints that the city, though seemingly perfect, is built on exclusion and control. The sequel’s job is to tear away the utopian mask and show the violent foundations beneath the prosperity.
Revealing Three Layers of Structural Oppression
The most important theoretical contribution of Zootopia 2 is its presentation of oppression as a three-layer structure, moving from the surface down to the roots.
Personal-Level Bias
This was the focus of the first film and the starting point of the sequel. Judy carrying fox repellent spray and blurting out offensive remarks to Nick reveals the mechanics of implicit bias and microaggressions. Even people who see themselves as progressive can unconsciously reproduce discriminatory logic.
In the sequel, that personal bias extends to fear of reptiles. Gary, a gentle and even timid snake, stands in stark contrast to the city’s image of reptiles as “cold-blooded killers.” This contrast is no longer about biology; it is pure cultural construction. Reptiles are demonized simply because they are “other.”
Institutional Discrimination
The police system itself becomes an object of scrutiny. Judy, as the “first bunny officer,” experiences not just tokenism but a broader mechanism of exclusion. The mandatory “partner counseling” for Judy and Nick looks like therapy on the surface, but in practice is discipline imposed by the institution on nonconforming behavior.
A deeper critique is that the film hints at the police as guardians of power. Judy and Nick may be heroes, but they operate inside the system and rely on state violence to “save” oppressed groups. This extends the critique of the first film: a “white savior” and “blue lives matter” narrative that still places hope in establishment goodwill rather than empowering the oppressed to resist.
Structural and Systemic Oppression
This is the most subversive part of the sequel. It reveals that discrimination is not only in people’s minds or in written policies, but solidified in the city’s physical space itself.
The climate wall system, the segregation of Marsh Market, and the historical absence of reptiles all point to one core proposition: Zootopia’s prosperity rests on the systematic exclusion of certain groups. This is not a conspiracy by a single politician, but the original violence embedded in the city’s construction.
Metaphors
A. The Absence and Return of Reptiles
The complete absence of reptiles in the first film is revealed as a historical expulsion, directly echoing the logic of settler colonialism:
- First, stigmatize the indigenous. A manipulated murder case (a snake killing a turtle) labels the whole group as “dangerous” and “savage.”
- Second, physical expulsion. Reptiles are driven out of the city core and their community, Reptile Ravine, is destroyed or repurposed.
- Third, historical erasure. Their contribution to the city (inventing climate wall technology) is erased, and the credit is given to the colonial Lynxley family.
- Finally, a legitimizing narrative. The city’s “founding myth” casts the founders as heroes and justifies the expulsion as a matter of “security.”
B. The Climate Wall System
In the first film, the climate wall is framed as a technological miracle that allows species with different climate needs to coexist. The sequel flips this optimistic reading:
- The climate wall is not a tool of inclusion, but a weapon of segregation.
- It divides the city into climate zones, a physical embodiment of spatial separation.
- The design of arid and cold zones deliberately excludes reptiles’ survival needs, a form of “environmental violence.”
- Control of the wall’s maintenance and expansion sits with the Lynxley family, making it a tool to monopolize resources and control movement.
C. Marsh Market
Marsh Market is the most symbolic setting in the sequel. Built on wetlands and connected by boardwalks and pipes, it carries a bayou slum vibe. It is Zootopia’s “reverse side”:
- Spatial marginalization: cut off from the city core, it becomes a gathering place for reptiles, aquatic mammals, and other “unwanted” groups.
- Economic marginalization: smuggling and black markets flourish, not because of moral failure but because residents are excluded from the legal economy.
- Cultural marginalization: the area has its own vitality and community culture, yet is seen by the mainstream as “dangerous” and “chaotic.”
The Lynxley family plans to expand Tundratown, which means swallowing Marsh Market. This is a blunt metaphor for gentrification:
- Under the banner of “urban development,” low-income communities are displaced, land is converted into high-value real estate, and original residents are left with nowhere to go.
- The “independence” of Marsh Market residents is essentially abandonment and exclusion, not true autonomy.
D. The Lynxley Family
The Lynxley family is the perfect embodiment of elite power:
- Stealing innovation: climate wall technology was invented by reptiles, yet the Lynxley family claims it and patents it. This reveals the violent nature of intellectual property under capitalism: whoever controls law and power can legitimize others’ creations as their own.
- Historical revision: by controlling education and public narratives, they cast themselves as “city builders” and erase reptiles from history.
- Inherited power: wealth and influence pass down generations, forming a fixed ruling class. Even the “fallen” heir Bobert can easily mobilize smuggling networks and antique resources.
From “We Are the Same” to “Accepting Our Differences”
This thematic shift exposes the inner dilemma of liberal pluralism.
The First Film’s Optimism: The Assimilation Illusion
The slogan “Anyone can be anything” is essentially an assimilationist narrative. It assumes that once prejudice is removed, everyone can gain equal opportunity within the existing system.
Judy becoming a cop and Nick “going straight” both happen by adapting to and integrating into the mainstream system. This narrative ignores a fundamental question: what if the system itself is the source of oppression?
The Sequel’s Compromise: The Cost of Acknowledging Differences
The sequel retreats from “we are the same” to “accept our differences.” It seems more mature, but actually reveals a deep sense of powerlessness:
- Biological differences are not easily changed: foxes do not understand hugs, elephants fear mice, and herbivores’ smiles look like provocation to predators. These details suggest some differences are deeply rooted and cannot be erased through “mutual understanding.”
- Limits of inclusion: Judy and Nick’s painful faces when eating insects to respect reptiles, and seals refusing coins and touch yet still being ignored, show how difficult true cross-cultural understanding is.
- The nature of compromise: “accepting differences” often means marginalized groups must adapt and sacrifice. In the film, reptiles work to fit into Zootopia rather than the city changing itself to welcome them.
This shift is, in effect, a critique of multiculturalism as ideology. It shows that “tolerance” and “respect” alone cannot solve structural inequality. Real justice requires a fundamental redistribution of power, not just the acknowledgment of difference.
The Irony of the Name Zootopia
The name itself is a precise critical tool.
The Double Meaning of “Zoo”
- A zoo: a cage for humans to observe animals, where animals are classified, displayed, and controlled.
- A city of animals: seemingly free, yet planned, monitored, and managed.
The False Promise of “Utopia”
When Thomas More coined “Utopia,” the etymology already carried a double meaning: “eu-topia” (good place) and “ou-topia” (no place). Zootopia is exactly such a “no-place” good place. It promises equality and inclusion, but that promise rests on systematic exclusion of certain groups.
The Collapse of the “Melting Pot” Myth
America has long styled itself as a “melting pot” where cultures blend. That narrative hides a harsh reality:
- Integration equals assimilation: minorities must give up their cultural identity and adopt the mainstream.
- Selective inclusion: only those who “fit the standard” are accepted, while others are expelled or marginalized.
- Ongoing segregation: real-world racial segregation and economic stratification never disappear, they just take more hidden forms.
Zootopia’s surface prosperity is built on Marsh Market’s poverty, the absence of reptiles, and the Lynxley family’s monopoly. This utopia is, at its core, an exclusive space of privilege.
The ending scene, with different groups peacefully making burgers together, is warm. But the line “territorial animals always feel the urge to expand” tells the truth: power struggles are permanent, and harmony is temporary.
A Sociology Textbook in Fairy-Tale Clothing
Zootopia 2 uses animal allegory to weave settler colonialism, racist urban planning, and intellectual property violence into what looks like a light adventure.
The most unsettling part is not what it reveals, but that after revealing it, the film cannot provide answers. The final harmonious image is fragile because power structures remain unchanged, economic inequality persists, and spatial segregation continues. That line about territorial animals is the film’s most honest moment: it admits there may be no perfect solution.
Ultimately, Zootopia 2 matters because it asks the right questions even if it cannot offer radical answers. It invites viewers to think rather than feed them conclusions. It acknowledges complexity instead of selling easy hope.
In an era that increasingly rejects complexity, that is a radical stance in itself.
When children grow up and rewatch this film, they will realize that the scenes that once made them laugh were actually a prophecy of the world they will face. The answers that were not spoken are waiting for their generation to find.
Author’s note: personal opinion, for reference only.