Disney was not Disney as we know it in 1994. The studio was then just a few years removed from a prolonged artistic and box office slump, one that reversed only in 1989 with the release of The Little Mermaid. After that came Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, two more critical and commercial hits that cemented Disney’s cinematic renaissance.

But none of those movies were as big as The Lion King. Released in 1994, the Shakespearean family epic became an absolute blockbuster, smashing expectations and bringing the studio to new heights; it was the second-highest-grossing film in North America that year, and would soon become one of the highest-grossing films of all time domestically. “I remember we had parties for when it broke $100 million,” animator Andreas Deja says in the 2005 documentary Dream on Silly Dreamer, an unvarnished look at the rise and fall of Disney animation. “Then we had a party when it broke 150. Then it broke 200, and the parties just wouldn’t stop.” Suddenly the true box office potential of animated films had been unleashed.

“It changed the dynamic of everything that was going on at the studio,” said Dr. Maureen Furniss, an animation historian and director at CalArts, in a recent phone interview—not least because of its stunning hand-drawn animation, which brought to life vast, lush landscapes populated by a multitude of expressive animals. Film critic Roger Ebert called the movie Bambi for a new generation, praising its animators for embracing the studio’s classic, hand-drawn ethos while also using new technology to create “several remarkable sequences, including a stampede in which a herd seems to flow past the camera.”

Now the studio is in the midst of a second renaissance, remaking its older films—from Cinderella and Dumbo to Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin—for the modern age, using cutting-edge tech. The Jon Favreau–directed Lion King, out Friday, looks live action, but it isn’t—it’s a photo-realistic remake that replaces the original’s unique, hand-drawn flourishes—Simba’s long red mane, Scar’s droll expression and yellow and green eyes—with a Planet Earth approach, creating incredibly tactile lions who, like actual lions, have small eyes and wooden jaws, rather than the humanoid features of the first film’s characters. Considering the studio’s history, why would it be interested in this approach?

Perhaps, as with the studio’s well-received 2016 Jungle Book reboot, it’s because “animals are within the category of things that they are able to make look pretty realistic,” Dr. Furniss speculated. “I think the average person doesn’t know what a lion looks like,” at least not close-up. “The Lion King lends itself to this thing.”

But as critics including Vanity Fair’s own K. Austin Collins have noted, the end result of this ultrarealistic approach is visually impressive but hollow. He compared the film to a video game, one that allows viewers to step into the Lion King experience while missing the point of what made the first film resonate. “It’s a lesson in why we value animation in the first place,” Collins wrote in his review. “We value it for, well, its animated nature: as a medium to convey emotions that are bigger onscreen than in real life, and exaggerated expressions, flights of fancy, a complete rejection of physics.”

The photo-realistic technique, critics argue, is missing the classic Disney stamp—the studio’s time-honored, individualized approach to giving each character its own distinct aesthetic. Viewers can sense that idiosyncratic artists created every character in the original film, Dr. Furniss noted—a Disney technique dates back to the studio’s Nine Old Men, the influential core group of animators who began shaping its animation ambitions in the 1920s and 1930s.

The pleasure of that animation, she continued, rested in each artist’s distinct hand. Andreas Deja, for example, was adept at drawing villains, creating Gaston in Beauty and the Beast, Jafar in Aladdin, and Scar in The Lion King. But photo-realism doesn’t offer artists that same signature; in the new Lion King, for example, Scar doesn’t look very different from any other lion. Instead of wicked expressions and menacing movement, his villainy is denoted by the fact that he mostly stands in shadows. Another example: when Simba, Timon, and Pumbaa sing “Hakuna Matata” together in the new film, there’s no over-the-top expression or comedy, no jovial vine-swinging or physically impossible but enjoyably goofy wave-surfing. Instead the characters stand singing in a straight line, traveling from point A to point B. Because hey, that’s what real animals would do. Compared side by side with the original sequence, as seen in the clip below, the new film looks surprisingly joyless.

It’s extraordinary work in and of itself, the new film’s ability to render a near-perfect imitation of something from the real world. “The problem is, how do you make a handcrafted National Geographic character?” said urban and media historian Norman Klein, a professor at CalArts, in a separate interview. Though he had not yet seen the film when we spoke, based on the concept and the trailers alone, he anticipated that it would be “a fairly stale experience” compared to the original Lion King.

Like many other critics he also sees this new Lion King as not necessarily a creatively driven enterprise, but a means to usher a new generation into the studio’s rich archive—and to make money. Lots and lots of money. “If there’s a nickel under your refrigerator, they will find it,” he quipped. “Disney people are unquestionably ingenious at double- and triple-marketing things.”

Evidently the photo-realism naysayers aren’t having an effect on that bottom line: The Lion King reboot is currently tracking at $450 million worldwide in its opening weekend. After the wild success of both Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast, it would come as no surprise if it crossed the $1 billion mark. Does this mean that the movie might spark a new trend, generating a wave of copycat photo-realistic films? Not quite, Klein said. The film’s use of hyperrealism is “a natural extension of what’s been going on anyway,” he said.

Dr. Furniss agreed: “I don’t think so,” she said, when asked if she anticipates a potential boom in photo-realistic remakes. “I think the reason this one works is because it’s based on this strong original movie.” After all, there’s nothing like the real thing.

— The scoop on Midsommar’s totally wild sex scene  — A new Elvis biopic casts its King  — A toast to When Harry Met Sally, the romantic comedy for grown-ups  — The best books of the year, so far  — The media reflects on its actions in the decades-long Jeffrey Epstein saga

Looking for more? Sign up for our daily Hollywood newsletter and never miss a story.