Disney’s latest live-action remake, Snow White, is shaping up to be the studio’s most controversial—and possibly least beloved—reimagining to date. Released on March 21, 2025, the film has been met with scathing reviews, social media backlash, and disappointing box office numbers—fueling criticism that Disney’s modernized approach to its classic fairy tales may finally be backfiring.
According to The Guardian, the film is a “toe-curlingly terrible” attempt at a remake, criticizing its sentimentality and “soulless” aesthetic. The paper called out the performances, direction, and script as lacking the charm, wit, and originality that made the 1937 animated version a timeless success.
Critics weren’t alone in their disdain. Audiences have also shown little enthusiasm. As reported by The New York Post, Snow White pulled in just $15.5 million on its opening day and is projected to earn only $45 million across its debut weekend—an underwhelming figure by Disney standards, particularly for a film in one of the company’s most iconic franchises.
From the outset, Snow White seemed destined for trouble. The casting of Rachel Zegler, a Colombian-American actress, in the lead role sparked intense backlash online. Critics and fans alike questioned Disney’s rationale, noting that Zegler—despite her Broadway background and vocal talent—did not reflect the visual or emotional essence of the original character. Unlike the animated Snow White, who embodied innocence, sweetness, and a classic fairytale beauty, Zegler brought a more modern, assertive tone that clashed with the role’s traditional roots. Many wondered aloud what specific qualities led Disney to cast her—beyond optics—given that she neither resembled nor projected the iconic purity and charm that made the original Snow White so beloved.
Zegler further inflamed tensions by publicly mocking aspects of the 1937 film, calling Prince Charming “weird” and suggesting the story needed a feminist overhaul. Rather than approaching the material with reverence, she appeared eager to rewrite it entirely. Her comments, widely circulated and criticized on social media, fueled accusations that Disney was prioritizing politics over storytelling—and had cast the film based more on ideological messaging than narrative fit.
Gal Gadot, who portrays the Evil Queen, didn’t fare much better in the court of public opinion. Though her performance wasn’t the central focus of critique, her outspoken support for Israel during the 2023 Israel-Gaza war reignited calls for boycotts in the months leading up to the film’s release. As reported by Variety, tensions around Gadot culminated in protests at her Hollywood Walk of Fame ceremony just days before the film’s debut.
But beyond politics, some viewers simply couldn’t reconcile Gadot’s casting with the role itself. After years of being celebrated as the fierce, principled Wonder Woman—a global symbol of strength and virtue—audiences struggled to accept her as a jealous, vindictive villain. The disconnect was jarring. Who wants to see a beloved superhero suddenly scowling into a magic mirror, dripping with malice? For many, it wasn’t just a misfire—it was miscasting.
Adding fuel to the fire were rumors of offscreen friction between the two leads. According to People Magazine, Zegler and Gadot had “nothing in common,” with sources citing political differences, generational gaps, and clashing energies on set. Zegler appeared to confirm those tensions—at least indirectly—by posting behind-the-scenes photos that conspicuously excluded Gadot. As noted by Page Six, the omission was interpreted by many as a deliberate snub.
The controversy didn’t stop there. The film’s depiction of the seven dwarfs—arguably the most recognizable elements of the original—sparked widespread criticism. Disney’s decision to replace traditionally cast dwarf characters with CGI and non-dwarf actors drew backlash from advocacy groups and performers alike. As reported by The Wall Street Journal, critics accused the studio of “using wokeness as a smokescreen” for eliminating authentic representation and avoiding difficult conversations about inclusivity.
Even diehard Disney fans struggled to find anything redeemable. The film’s script was panned as heavy-handed and joyless, filled with clunky modern platitudes instead of the whimsy and wonder that defined the original. Online reviewers labeled it “corporate propaganda in a ballgown” and “the most joyless remake Disney has ever done.”
In a last-ditch attempt to soften the public’s response, Zegler posted a childhood photo of herself dressed as Snow White, describing the role as a lifelong dream. But for many, the gesture rang hollow—an emotional appeal in the face of legitimate criticism that only reinforced perceptions of tone-deafness and performative sincerity.
The result is a film that has not only failed to impress—but has ignited cultural fatigue. As Disney’s slate of live-action remakes continues to grow, Snow White may serve as the breaking point: a case study in what happens when legacy storytelling collides with corporate overreach, creative confusion, and social controversy.
For now, the fairest one of all may still be the original—and nothing Disney can manufacture seems able to recapture that magic.
