Family was the most important thing.
Abuela didn't recognize that. She pushed her children to the breaking point to fit her image of perfection.
She threw out Bruno, and dismissed Mirabel for not doing enough. She demanded endless work from her daughters to serve the community, not recognizing they were the real gift.
But what if she was right about the family needing to earn the miracle? What if Abuela knew the miracle better than anyone could guess?
"Why do you need candles?" Antonio asked, the colourful toucan on his shoulder staring at him with a powerful intensity and the jaguar the small boy rode smiling down at him.
Bruno shrugged. "I dunno. Magic."
"I don't need candles to talk to animals. Break free. You don't need these tools. Just cast it."
Bruno paused, feeling a spike of pain at the memory, and spoke.
"To make the perfect show. They felt bad if you just poured some sand down and told them they needed to stop eating Arepas all day or they'll grow a gut. You need drama. You need acting. You need to make it all about the scene. Not about me. Not about Bruno. Then it just became easier to do it that way. I get better miracles when the townspeople liked the look of it. When I wasn't doing it in my room."
Antonio paused, and then nodded. He then immediately asked another question.
"Why do you need the sand?"
Bruno shook his finger side to side, saying no.
"You'll see. No spoiling the plot."
Antonio grinned, and tapped his head.
"You can do this." Antonia said. He then wandered away.
Four candles. Leaves in the center. Sand all around. A very unbothered capybara and an excited Mirabel. The weight of the family on his shoulders. Could he do this? He had to.
He tossed salt over his shoulder for good luck, held Mirabel's hands, rough from hard sewing, and began.
The vision swirled around them along with the sand. Green light crackled over the sand as an image of Mirabel formed in front of a cracked house.
Bruno stamped his foot, trying to shake the vision away.
"It's just the same thing. I gotta stop!"
Mirabel looked at him, the same look of determination that had drove her to pull him out of his closet to the wider world visible on her face.
"No. We have to go on. There has to be something- look, a butterfly!"
A yellow butterfly floated up on high. Bruno focused, following the vision. Futures span and twisted as the sands of time bent to his will.
There was an image of sad villagers. Their house was stained with mess, trash covering the floor. A woman cried on her husband's shoulders at the foul stench.
"Where is that?"
"Señora Pezmuerto's house. I'd recognize that dirty, unfit for fish kind house anywhere. Clean your fish bowl!"
Mirabel looked at him. "Her name means dead fish? Is that it? Do we help her and fix the magic?"
"Wait, the vision is shifting."
A woman was smiling, enjoying herself. She touched small green things- potatoes.
Then Mirabel appeared in the vision, in front of the candle. The source of their magic. It was getting brighter. The two reached out to each other.
"You hug her?"
"Who do I hug?" Mirabel asked.
The image got more forceful. Prophesy Mirabel slugged the person hard and the candle glowed. The sad villagers smiled, flowers popping up around them. The magic was restored by this punch.
On the ground the figure twisted their head gracefully. The way her hair moved.
Isabela. Bruno let the vision die down, and smiled.
"It all makes sense. To fix the miracle you need to punch Isabela. She's not worked hard enough to make flowers, you can fix her. Simple and-" He paused.
He felt a pain inside, and covered his eyes. It was time. Every time he told a prophesy they'd hate him for it. He didn't cause the future. He didn't make that fish die, he didn't make a man bald, he didn't make it so that punching Isabella would fix the magic. Everybody hated him for it. Every time.
He didn't hear any angry words. He uncovered his eyes.
Mirabel looked happier than she had for a while. She fist pumped. "Isabela. You destroyed the magic. I knew it. I'm coming for you." She smacked her fist into her hand. "And I'm gonna make your selfish entitled princess ass perfect!"
Just watched this lovely film. Great songs, great messages, great families. But when watching it, I felt they were pretty lucky that the cure to their magical problems was for people to do whatever they wanted and chill in a hammock with loving family members. What if the actual cure was to be perfect?