A charming musical which tells the story of the thirteen-person magical Madrigal family, Disney’s Encanto (2021) delves into several important concepts in Family Systems Theory, a school of therapy where individuals are always treated as part of larger family systems. At its essence, Family Systems therapy helps individuals understand their roles and relationships in their families and the ways they may act out those dynamics unconsciously in other settings. What patterns are being repeated? What conflicts are going unaddressed? What roles are people playing, and do those roles really fit their hopes and needs?

Though I’m a chaplain and not a therapist, I lean on Family Systems quite a bit when working with patients and their family members, and as I watched Encanto, I was blown away by the depth with which this film approaches family and all its complexities. In this post, I’ll explore a little about the each member of the three generations of Madrigals living in their enchanted home in Colombia, and I’ll cite Edwin Friedman’s Generation to Generation pretty frequently. I’ll also talk about how I might interact with each family member and the consults and therapies I might recommend for them.

As you read, I’d encourage you to think about how some of these issues may play out in your own family. Maybe there’s a specific Madrigal to whom you feel drawn, and perhaps this analysis can help you explore why. Encanto is currently in theaters and streaming on Disney+. I’d recommend watching it before reading further because there will be significant spoilers, and all images used here are property of Disney Animation Studios used for education purposes yada yada— anyway, let’s talk about…

Mirabel

Luisa

Antonio

Uncle Bruno

Abuela Alma

Abuela and Mirabel’s Relationship

Abuela, Mirabel, and Bruno’s Emotional Triangle

Isabela

Dolores

Pedro and Casita

Aunt Pepa and Julieta (Mom)

Uncle Felix and Agustín (Dad)

Camilo

The Town

Concluding Thoughts

Mirabel- The Identified Patient

All families have their issues.
All families have their anxieties.
And all families usually have a few people onto whom they project all that crap.

The “Identified Patient” may not be the person in the family who has the most significant problems, but this person’s issues will inevitably become the focus of family conversation. Sort of a family scapegoat, the Identified Patient winds up the target of the family’s issues but is often the person most likely to seek help dealing with those problems.

If you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around this concept, think of the prompt, “Everything in the family would be fine if…”

For example:
“Everything in the family would be fine if Grandaddy Clay would quit talking politics.”
“Everything in the family would be fine if my brother, Raimundo, hadn’t had his accident.”
“Everything in the family would be fine if Aunt Kimiko hadn’t run off with her high school sweetheart.”
“Everything in the family would be fine if Cousin Omi didn’t die at such a young age.”

Or, in the case of the Madrigals:
“Everything in the family would be fine if Mirabel had gotten a gift.”

The second youngest of the Madrigal family, Mirabel has the distinct shame of being the only Madrigal without a superpower. Well, actually, her dad (Agustín) and her Tio Felix don’t have powers since they married into the family, and it doesn’t seem like the family’s matriarch, Abuela Alma, has any specific powers either, but the family specifically focus on Mirabel’s lack of supernatural powers. Mirabel often flashes back to the botched ceremony wherein she should have received a supernatural gift but didn’t, and the movie’s opening number even shows her bragging on all the other members of her family while avoiding the topic of her own abilities. The inhabitants of the town around the Madrigal home even groan and sigh as they talk about what a “downer” it was for Mirabel not to receive a special power like her other relatives.

True to the Identified Patient’s nature, Mirabel overcompensates and seeks help holding the family together.
Mirabel finds the long lost Tio Bruno.
Mirabel coaches her youngest cousin through his gift ceremony.
Mirabel helps her sisters explore their frustrations and anxieties.
And all of this action comes from her own insecurity as the only un-magical Madrigal (you know, except for Abuela, Felix, and Agustín). All the family’s issues seem to come back to Mirabel, and yet Mirabel is not directly responsible for any of them. That’s the life of the Identified Patient, and every family has at least one.

If I were part of Mirabel’s care team…
I would encourage Mirabel in identifying her own fears and anxieties (rather than fixating on Abuela’s and the rest of the family’s). So much of Mirabel’s identity is wrapped up in her lack of a gift that it seems like it’s become her defining characteristic. She cheers on the rest of her family while downplaying herself, and in a few cases, it seems like she’s starting to resent them (especially Isabela) because of it. I would encourage Mirabel to reflect on the things she likes about herself and then make a referral for longterm counseling. Mirabel might also benefit from group therapy so that she can see how her role in her family plays out in other situations.

Luisa- Invulnerability and Anxiety

So, first of all, every single song in this movie absolutely slaps, but Luisa’s could very well be the best. After Dolores tips Mirabel off that Luisa is worried about losing her gift, Luisa lets Mirabel into her fear.

From the opening number onward, Luisa shines as one of the family’s most charitable members. Using her super strength, she redirects rivers, rounds up wayward donkeys, and performs all sorts of other feats of strength to benefit her community. From the outside, Luisa seems like she has it all together, but she has a secret: she lives with a constant fear of losing her strength and becoming —by her assessment— useless to her family and community. All her self-worth is tied up in her abilities, and she believes herself worthless without them.

Desperate to maintain her worthiness, Luisa tries harder and harder, and she refuses to let any other family member into her fear. She puts on the guise of invulnerability, which effectively turns her head into an echo chamber where her fears can reverberate and escalate without any release of tension. Only when confronted by Mirabel does Luisa finally break down and share the pressure she’s under. To Abuela’s dismay, Luisa becomes visibly sadder and less secure after this confrontation. While her physical strength is in fact wavering, she’s more emotionally free and able to let her family into her pain (even if Abuela doesn’t want to address it). Luisa is acknowledging the tension, which will in itself help to alleviate some of it. That’s the thing about anxiety: naming it and talking about it may be painful, but it also helps.

If I were part of Luisa’s care team…
If any family member just needs some space to talk, it’s Luisa. She’s always working, always striving, always putting her own needs and desires on hold so she can help others. Therapy is a space to focus on yourself, and Luisa would probably find such a space incredibly liberating, so yeah, I’m recommending ongoing therapy with a licensed counselor. As Luisa’s chaplain, I would mostly just listen and possibly help her explore self-worth outside of just her physical strength. I would also help Luisa clarify what “rest” and “self-care” might look like for her and help her set specific goals in this area. I would also like to engage Luisa in a conversation about healthy boundaries because, at the beginning of the film, it doesn’t seem like she’s taking any time to herself for rest and recovery. She’s saying “yes” to every request, and that’s not going to be sustainable forever.

Antonio- Homeostasis and Standard Bearers

The youngest member of the Madrigal family, Antonio carries a difficult burden. After his older cousin, Mirabel, upset the status quo by not attaining a supernatural gift, Antonio must receive a gift so he can restore “homeostasis” for the Madrigals. Homeostasis is the unspoken balance within a family, and a family system will always strive toward homeostasis, especially during a crisis.

If a family tends to express conflict outwardly and openly, even if the most cantankerous relatives aren’t at the Thanksgiving table, some sort of fight will probably still happen. That’s homeostasis.

If one family member decides to challenge the status quo, others (whether consciously or not) will probably step up their efforts to preserve it. That’s homeostasis.

If a family never talks about a particular taboo subject, a family member bringing it up will meet immediate resistance from others. That’s homeostasis.

Homeostasis ensures comfort and consistency by creating balance, but in doing so, homeostasis also resists growth and traps family members in roles and dynamics they may no longer fit.

After Mirabel doesn’t receive a gift, the family puts far more pressure on Antonio for his gift ceremony. “Everything must be perfect!” he hears his parents and Abuela say over and over. Though they never say it to him explicitly, Antonio understands he must balance out the shame they feel about Mirabel’s lack of a gift, and that’s a lot of pressure for such a young kid! Antonio has effectively become the “standard bearer”— the one entrusted to protect the family legacy. (Though it should be noted Luisa, Isabela, and Mirabel each feel pressure as standard bearers too.) I love how Antonio defuses this pressure; rather than blame Mirabel or participate in the family shunning of her, he enlists her help. “I can’t do this without you,” he insists as he takes her hand at his gift ceremony. Though attaining a gift and restoring some balance, Antonio has also ensured his cousin doesn’t become further sidelined. While Antonio has taken steps toward homeostasis by attaining a gift, he has also resisted it by encouraging Mirabel to remain at the center of attention with him.

Of course, notice how the other Madrigals immediately (if unwittingly) move back toward homeostasis by excluding Mirabel from a family photo. Antonio’s efforts have not been wholly successful, but this will not stop him from trying.

If I were part of Antonio’s care team…
Antonio clearly feels overwhelmed with the burden of restoring homeostasis in his family while also including Mirabel, so I would encourage him to consider his own wants and feelings. Additionally, I might encourage him to talk more about his family members and some of their problems so he can see he is not in fact at the core of their struggles. If Antonio learns to separate his own hopes and fears from those of his family, he will hopefully carry less stress in his relationships. Also, I’m impressed with the way Antonio already uses family structures (especially the relationship with Mirabel) to ease his fears, so I’ll affirm him in this and encourage him to continue. After all, if a family system is already working toward the benefit of those within it, why interfere? I can just step back and let the Antonio/Mirabel dynamic do its thing. As far as referrals, I know I’m sounding like a broken record on this, but I recommend continued counseling by a licensed therapist. I’ll also request a consult from a child life specialist to help Antonio’s parents and Abuela better understand the burden he’s carrying and how they might better communicate with him about it.

Sidebar: How great is it that a character who already excels at communicating his emotions receives a gift centered around communication?

Uncle Bruno- The Exile

Ah, here comes the other contender for best song…
“We don’t talk about Bruno, no, no, no,” Mirabel’s family members sing together about the troubled relative seemingly absent from their home. Some years before Encanto takes place, Bruno’s gift of prophetic visions caused tension among the family members to the point that Bruno couldn’t stand it any longer and fled. In his absence, even his name has become taboo, and the younger generation who barely remember him whisper about his strange habits, which have been exaggerated over time. Camilo in particular describes the meek and diminutive Bruno as seven feet tall, covered in rats, and feasting on human screams— no doubt a caricature of descriptions fed to him by Tia Pepa, who still blames Bruno for the storm on her wedding day.

While the Madrigals assume Bruno has left their town, in reality, he has been hiding in the walls of their home for years— still very much a part of the family even in his self-imposed exile. He’s still struggling with the same emotional problems, and he’s doing his best to patch the cracks in the walls from within. As Edwin Friedman once wrote, “The umbilical cord is infinitely elastic.” Put more plainly: your issues are always your issues, no matter how many miles you put between you and your family.

Even though Bruno is “absent” from his family, he cannot escape the Madrigals’ conflicts or the role he plays in them. Living in the walls, Bruno rehashes the events of the night he left and ponders what role Mirabel will play in the family’s possible downfall (because even Bruno’s exile ultimately comes back to the Identified Patient, Mirabel). Even in his isolation, Bruno longs to be a part of the Madrigals. In a particularly touching scene, Mirabel even finds a small table beside the cracked dining room wall where Bruno has carved a nameplate for himself in the style of the rest of the family’s. With such a strong desire for reunion, Bruno’s exile cannot last forever, but it will take Mirabel’s intervention and another family crisis to pull him back.

If I were part of Bruno’s care team…
Bruno needs acceptance and affirmation. With his troublesome gift, he’s been beating himself up for ages now, so I would spend a lot of time just listening to Bruno and giving him a chance to vent. I would encourage him to put words to his feelings and then validate those feelings. Most importantly though, I would make sure I wasn’t the only care-provider Bruno shared his struggles with! As a chaplain, I can’t diagnose. That’s not part of my skillset or my job description. Still, it’s clear Bruno’s mental health needs some attention, and with his unusual communication style and mannerisms, it seems like the filmmakers are coding him as neurodivergent. When we meet Bruno, he’s been living in the walls with only rats for companionship, and he’s very obviously neglecting his health and hygiene. All sorts of guilt and regret and anxiety are swirling around in his addled mind. I want Bruno to start seeing a therapist regularly, but I also want him to sit down with a good primary care physician to be screened for depression and other mental illnesses. I’ll probably try to raise some alarm bells with the rest of the medical team, but as a chaplain, there are limits to what I personally can do here. I’m deeply concerned about Bruno.

Abuela Alma- Transforming Trauma

Encanto opens with interspersed memories of two traumatic events: the death of Abuelo Pedro and Mirabel’s botched gift ceremony. Abuela Alma carries all of this pain in her role as the stoic protector of the family, and her pain directs much of the action in the film.

Abuela suffered on the night her family received their miracle, and as such, her pain will always be a part of the Madrigals’ specialness. She doesn’t hide the miracle candle away in a safe place; she puts it on display for all to see— a constant reminder both of the family’s blessedness and their trauma. Abuela seems to be transforming the family tragedy into something life-giving and helpful, but even so, there’s significant unaddressed pain here. She talks constantly about the miracle, but she talks so little about her late husband. She has repressed the trauma of that terrible night in favor of celebrating the miracle, and the harder she fights to preserve the miracle, the more the pain seems to bubble up. So many of her interactions with Mirabel, Bruno, and others are driven by this pain. Hell, she forces Isabela and Mariano together without regard for either’s feelings, and a little part of me wonders if she’s subconsciously trying to recreate her “perfect” marriage through them. Abuela fights to protect the family and its legacy even at the expense of individuals within the family, and this is why she comes into conflict with the highly empathetic Mirabel (who focuses on individuals more than the family as a whole).

SPOILER ALERT. (But honestly, if you’ve read this far, I’m assuming you’ve seen the movie.) Abuela finally names her pain and experiences healing through her reconciliation with Bruno and Mirabel, which must take place at the river where Pedro sacrificed himself to save the family. Abuela states she has not visited the river since that night— again revealing her efforts to hide the pain in favor of celebrating the miracle. Only losing the miracle seems to help Abuela finally share her pain, and Bruno and Mirabel can fully embrace her. She has finally let them in.

Sidebar: I find it fascinating how much Abuela gravitates to the image of the butterfly. It is all over their house, appears on the miracle candle itself, and features prominently in Abuela and MIrabel’s clothing. Because of their life cycle (caterpillar-chrysalis-butterfly), butterflies often serve as metaphors for trauma and transformation. The butterfly symbolizes rebirth, but exiting the cocoon is a painful process. Abuela is all about trying to transform trauma, so she’s always surrounded by butterflies, On a personal note, several major hospitals (including my own) have adopted butterfly imagery as they help healthcare workers navigate the trauma we’ve all experienced throughout the COVID pandemic.

If I were part of Abuela’s care team…
I am not a trauma therapist, so I’m immediately making a referral on this one. Still, as her chaplain, I notice Abuela only talks about Pedro’s death and the family’s miracle, but throughout Encanto, Abuela says nothing about Abuelo Pedro’s personality. Mirabel (and the viewers) only glimpse it in a silent flashback at the climax by the river. I would ask Abuela to tell me more about Pedro when he was alive. What was he like? How did they meet? What made him unique? I wonder if there’s a way to understand the Madrigal identity and legacy apart from Pedro’s death and the miracle.

Abuela and Mirabel- Emotional Triangles

The core conflict of Encanto isn’t between Mirabel and her perfect sister Isabela or her stressed out sister Luisa or the enigmatic Tio Bruno; it’s with Abuela Alma. Abuela wants to keep things exactly as they are and protect the magic, while Mirabel fears the loss of the magic and will try any new approach to keep it intact. Rather than directly engage each other, Mirabel and Abuela’s conflict ropes in every other member of the Madrigal family.

Direct conflict with one other person is really hard. It’s an easier and perfectly human alternative to pull someone else into the conflict, whether as a confidante or an ally or a mediator or any other role to ease the pressure. A colleague once explained it to me: the most stable structure in architecture is a triangle, and so it goes with families too.

Rather than address their tension directly, which would be very uncomfortable and painful, Abuela and Mirabel feud over how to help Luisa maintain her strength and her confidence. They pull Isabela in different directions regarding her romantic relationship and her creativity. They can barely look one another in the eye when Antonio pulls Mirabel with him toward his door in the gift ceremony. And then there’s their relationship to Bruno, who hid because of Abuela’s actions and returned because of Mirabel’s.

The Madrigals’ magic cannot reignite until Mirabel and her Abuela address their tension directly, but they share an impulse to channel their conflict through other family relationships instead. Again, this is pretty normal family stuff, so we shouldn’t judge Mirabel and Abuela. Ultimately, it takes a significant loss (the candle burning out and Casita collapsing) for the two of them to sit down together, open up to each other, and then hug it out.

Triangles may very well be the most important concept in Family Systems because they happen everywhere. Every group of people (families, friends, coworkers, astronauts on a months-long journey to Mars, whatever) has emotional triangles, and these triangles always overlap into other relationships to form “interlocking triangles.” An event in one part of the web will always vibrate out and affect another. The important thing here is recognizing a triangle has formed and figuring out how to interact with the triangle— something Bruno does surprisingly (and perhaps unintentionally) well. More on this in a second.

If I were part of Abuela and Mirabel’s care team…
According to Friedman, it does little good to try and force the opposite points of an emotional triangle together. If I were to sit down with Abuela and Mirabel at the same time, they would almost certainly draw me into their conflict and attempt to persuade me to side with one or the other of them, or they might both turn on me. I suspect I’d have better luck talking to each of them individually, helping them identify their hopes and fears about the family, and then encouraging them to talk candidly to one another.

Abuela, Mirabel, and Bruno- Emotional Triangles (part 2)

Alright, as a little bonus here, I want to look harder at one specific emotional triangle in Encanto. As addressed previously, there are emotional triangles everywhere in the Madrigal family as Abuela and Mirabel sort out their conflict over how best to protect the family. I wasn’t really sure whether I should use the Bruno-Abuela-Mirabel triangle or the Isabela-Abuela-Mirabel triangle, but since Bruno is actually living in the walls and abandons his hermitic existence due to their triangle, I figured he’d be the more extreme example.

Friedman writes, “The most triangled position in any set of relationships is always the most vulnerable; when the laws of emotional triangles are understood, however, it tends to become the most powerful.” So contrary to what Pepa, Felix, and the rest of the family sang before, oh yes, we will talk about Bruno! We might even talk to him.

Rather than address their tension head on, Mirabel and Abuela channel their stress at a third member of the family: Bruno. Mirabel and Abuela almost function like equally-charged magnets repelling each other, but Bruno’s introduction brings stability to the dynamic. Mirabel finds him relatable (if a little creepy), and though Abuela is disappointed in him for running away, she genuinely desires reconciliation with him. Though Mirabel and Abuela repel each other, they are equally drawn to Bruno, which gives him influence with both of them.

As the third party in the triangle, Bruno theoretically holds the most power in the relationship, and despite his timid nature, he successfully confronts both Abuela and Mirabel at the film’s climax. Notice too how Bruno does not directly interfere in their relationship or try to mediate between them (which would likely cause both to turn on him); rather he helps Abuela and Mirabel process their issues individually so they can sit down together of their own accord. Sure enough, their individual interactions with Bruno help to drive Abuela and Mirabel into the all-important conversation they’ve been avoiding throughout the movie: What does it mean to protect the Madrigal family, and how can the gift-less Mirabel help her Abuela to do that?

In spite of his reputation among the family, Bruno ultimately holds all the cards, and his intervention —however passive— is crucial to Mirabel and Abuela’s reconciliation.

If I were part of Bruno’s care team…
While in this hypothetical scenario, I’ve already talked with Bruno a bit about his anxiety and referred him for ongoing mental health counseling, I really want to double down as we discuss his relationships with Abuela and Mirabel. When navigating an emotional triangle, one of the most helpful skills is “non-anxious presence,” the ability to separate one’s own anxiety while still remaining emotionally present in the relationship. It’s a tough balance to strike, and Bruno is pretty much one seething mass of anxiety wrapped in a poncho, so he’s going to struggle with it. I would want to help Bruno separate out what he fears, what Abuela fears, and what Mirabel fears so he can talk to each individually without getting consumed by his own anxieties. Again though, Bruno really needs the help of a therapist and a good primary care physician. As a chaplain, I can encourage him to pursue these, but it will ultimately be up to him.

Isabela- Self-Differentiation and Loyalty

One of the great tensions in every family is how much its members adhere to preset identities or set out on their own, and Mirabel’s older sister, Isabela, exemplifies this tension. “Self-differentiation” is the act of separating one’s own desires and feelings from those of the family, and it exists on a continuum where the opposite extreme is total unquestioning loyalty to the family, its traditions, and its expectations. For Isabela, loyalty means keeping up a perfect image, making beautiful flowers for the town regardless of the season, and marrying Mariano Guzman, the man the rest of the family have selected for her (even though she isn’t interested in him). Mirabel helps Isabela into self-differentiation by inviting her to express her creativity, share her real desires, and set aside her perfect persona, all of which she does joyfully in —you guessed it— another really solid musical number.

It’s important to note here that Isabela represents the continued escalation of Abuela’s perfectionism. In response to the trauma of losing her home and husband, Abuela seeks to provide a perfect life for her family and their town. The next generation (Bruno, Pepa, Julieta, and their spouses) thus feel even more pressure to maintain the magical Madrigal mystique, and the third generation (Luisa, Dolores, Isabela, Camilo, Mirabel, and Antonio) feel it even more. A trait like perfectionism tends to pass from generation to generation, but it will never stay at the same level of intensity; a trait like this must escalate or be broken. This is what’s known as —intense jargon coming up— “the transgenerational model of change.”

In Isabela’s case, she has ascended to levels of perfectionism beyond Abuela and beyond her own aunt and mother. With the perfectionism reaching its most extreme, Isabela faces a choice: to continue the trend (by entering an unwanted marriage and then holding her own children to an even higher standard) or to break the trend and pursue art and individuality. Isabela ultimately chooses self-differentiation by declining Mariano’s proposal and unleashing her creativity, yet she remains loyal to the family by continuing to use her gifts to help the Madrigals and their town.

If I were part of Isabela’s care team…
As Isabela’s chaplain, I would prompt Isabela to consider the person she wants to be and encourage her in finding ways to express her desires to her family (especially Abuela). I would remind Isabela that her individuality and her loyalty to her family don’t have to be an either/or, but maintaining both will be challenging and may necessitate some conflict. Additionally, because I am not a therapist, I would recommend Isabela pursue counseling and take up art as a therapeutic practice. Similar to Luisa, Isabela could benefit from creating a self-care regimen for herself, and art will certainly be a part of this.

Dolores- Agency and Crisis

Dolores serves as a foil for Isabela in many ways. While Isabela’s floral gift is flashy and draws attention, Dolores’s superhuman hearing works best in silence. Whereas Isabela is immediately the center of every room she enters, Dolores remains shy and hovers around the periphery. Isabela is charismatic and flamboyant, while Dolores is modest and reserved. Even their hairstyles tell the tale: Isabela with her flowing brunette cascade accented with flowers contrasted to Isabela’s curly bun hidden behind a large bow. Dolores is always listening and seldom speaks, but her silence masks tension: she can’t ever seem to advocate for herself, and thus, her needs and desires are constantly overlooked by the rest of the Madrigals. Dolores’s crush (Mariano) is courting Isabela, and rather than say anything, Dolores waits and seethes and resents her cousin more and more.

As Isabela struggles to differentiate herself from Abuela’s vision for the family, so too does Dolores. Dolores has been cast as a background player because of the nature of her gift (and perhaps in contrast to her boisterous parents), but she possesses wants and needs and ideas and fears and hopes like any other member of the family. Dolores lacks agency, and only the destruction of the family’s house and Isabela’s rebellion finally prompt her to speak up and share her own wants with her family. Crisis has a way of introducing opportunity for change, and Dolores seizes her opportunity. When she quietly tells Mirabel, “I’ll take it from here,” it’s a moment of major transformation for her.

If I were part of Dolores’s care team…
For Dolores, I’m advocating for professional counseling almost immediately. There’s so much repressed here, and while a chaplain could provide her the space to talk and encourage her to name her feelings and desires, a therapist could do it better and over a longer period of time. Maybe I’m a little cynical, but I doubt one conversation with a caregiver will give Dolores the push she needs to identify and share her needs on a consistent basis. She will need continual encouragement over many months (or years) to claim her own agency and differentiate her needs from those of the rest of the family.

Pedro and Casita- Loss/Replacement

Throughout Encanto, I found myself thinking: “Is the house like the spirit of the grandad or something?” The movie does an excellent job of planting this idea without ever confirming it. A painting of Abuelo Pedro rests in a place of honor at the top of the stairs, and Mirabel greets him as part of her daily routine. The house itself (Casita) is very nurturing and helps each member of the family to get ready in the morning, and Casita also plays an active role in helping Mirabel fulfill her mission of keeping the family’s magic alive.

Casita and the family’s enchantment materialized at the same time as Abuelo Pedro’s traumatic death, so even if Pedro didn’t magically become the house, the two are strongly linked in the family’s hearts. Casita comes to support Abuela and her children amid their loss and grief and disorientation, so, in a way, Casita fills the supportive void left by Abuelo Pedro. Casita helps Abuela and her children to find new roles and reorient to life (albeit, a very different life).

Because Casita entered their lives at such a difficult time, Casita’s collapse toward the movie’s climax revives all their pain and grief. Abuela isn’t just losing her house; she’s losing Pedro all over again. Trauma is often transmitted from generation to generation, and in this painful moment when Casita collapses, the younger generations feel Abuela’s pain too. How will they go on? The family cannot retreat into their magical abilities and their service of the community; they’ve lost their favored coping mechanism, and they must stop and spend time in their grief.

Of course, Encanto is still a Disney movie, so we can’t leave the Madrigal family on such a down note. The loss of Casita and their abilities forces the Madrigals to cooperate on a new level, and with the help of their community, they rebuild their home, which springs to life once more. The temporary loss of Casita and their abilities has helped them to establish priorities more suited to their individual needs (self-differentiation!). And thus, Abuela’s vision of a united family lives on in a new and different way, not in spite of Casita’s collapse and resurrection, but because of it.

If I were part of the Madrigals’ care team…
I doubt Casita would ever wind up seeking a chaplain, so let’s imagine instead I had the chance to spend time with the full Madrigal family following Casita’s collapse. I’d want to help them reflect on their memories of Casita and what the home represented to them. No doubt, the family would draw the connection between their home and their patriarch with little to no prompting. From there, I’d probably encourage the Madrigals in finding ways to remember their home and their grandfather. What do the Madrigal name and legacy really mean? What does it mean to be a Madrigal without their home and their enchantment? There is opportunity in this crisis to redefine their family.

Sidebar: I’m fascinated by Abuela’s statement by the river after Casita’s collapse: “I asked my Pedro for help. Mirabel, he sent me you.” While I love the sentiment, I can’t help but notice Mirabel is now filling the role previously occupied by Pedro and Casita. There’s a chance this relationship could be used to once again suppress the trauma, but Mirabel seems more mindful of the need to grow together, and the family is able to move into more open communication and self-differentiation as they rebuild Casita.

Aunt Pepa and Mom (Julieta)- Escalation and Deescalation

While Abuela and Mirabel form Encanto’s central conflict, some of the other opposites within the Madrigal family are fascinating. The sisters Pepa and Julieta appear to represent turbulence and tranquility, respectively, and I can only wonder what some of their conflict prior to the events of the film must have been like! Their gifts reflect their different personalities, with Julieta’s gift being life-giving and focused on individual needs, while Pepa’s chaotic weather control affects everyone around her for good or for ill. Julieta’s gift is controlled and precise, while Pepa’s is tied to her feelings and requires constant monitoring.

Visually, Pepa and Julieta’s branches of the family can be distinguished by their clothing, with Julieta’s branch all attired in cool colors like blues and purples, while Pepa’s branch all sport warm yellows, oranges, and reds. In fact, Bruno’s yellow and green poncho could hint at his being caught between his two sisters. Even Julieta and Pepa’s spouses reflect the dichotomy between them, with Felix being vibrant and energetic and Agustín being subdued and accident-prone (more on both in a minute). Seldom seen interacting with each other, the sisters have seemingly opposite dispositions and serve opposite functions within the story.

Pepa escalates conflict. Despite telling Mirabel emphatically, “We don’t talk about Bruno,” Pepa has an entire musical number up her sleeve about her resentment toward her brother, and her own children know the story quite well (indicating she’s probably talked about it often). With the clouds circling over her head, Pepa can’t help but share her feelings, and those feelings usually intensify conflict among the Madrigals. Pepa may not instigate confrontations, but when she gets involved, things get more heated.

By contrast, Julieta deescalates conflict. When Mirabel inquires about Bruno and his prophecies, Julieta encourages Mirabel to cool her jets. She continually soothes Agustín and Luisa and Isabela. No matter who she’s talking to, Julieta advocates taking time and thinking things through.

If I were part of Pepa and Julieta’s care team…
I’ve noticed, as the Madrigal family approaches its big crisis (the collapse of Casita and the loss of the gifts), Pepa and Julieta each double down on their conflict strategies. Pepa grows more irate, and Julieta steps up her efforts to pacify others. While I think the two of them would benefit from professional counseling (especially full family counseling and group therapy), I would like to spend time with each of them and help them consider their approaches to conflict.
What do they really want for their loved ones?
What messages do they really want to send?
How are their current strategies helping or hindering those efforts?
More than anything, I would want to give each of them a space to offload some pent-up feelings, even if I need to break out a raincoat to do it.

Uncle Felix and Dad (Agustin)- The Outsiders

As stated previously, there are a lot of great foils within the Madrigal family: the serene Julieta and the temperamental Pepa, the shy Dolores and the vibrant Isabela, but one of my favorite pairings is Agustín and Felix, both of whom have married into the family and thus lack the customary Madrigal superpowers. As discussed previously, the two of them match their respective spouses. Felix is dramatic and passionate like Pepa, while Agustín is staid and levelheaded like Julieta. Felix is outgoing, while Agustín is more timid. Even their appearances contrast each other. Always in tie and vest, Agustín is tall, slender, light complected, and neatly groomed, while the casually-attired Felix is short and stocky with dark complexion and full curly hair. Honestly, these two are practically a Madrigal version of Bert and Ernie, but there’s another important difference between the two: self-differentiation.

Friedman writes, “It is not really possible, in fact, to become totally independent from one’s family except by fusing with another relationship system of equal intensity…” Both Felix and Agustín never once mention their families of origin, and they have even taken the Madrigal name, fusing fully into the Madrigal family system. Still, there’s some evidence of the different roles they must have played before joining the family.

Not to rag on Felix (who is a kind, loving, and highly involved father), but Agustín seems to be the stronger advocate for his children within the family. In the buildup to Antonio’s gift ceremony, Felix puts just as much pressure on the young boy as Pepa, Abuela, and any other family member. Felix fully buys into the gifts as a crucial part of the Madrigal identity, and he aligns with Abuela and Pepa in their anxiety around Antonio’s gift.

By contrast, following Mariano’s failed proposal, when Abuela lashes out about Mirabel and Agustín’s attempt to hide Bruno’s prophecy, Agustín stands his ground and defends his daughter. Much to Abuela’s shock, Agustín explicitly states he will choose Mirabel over the extended family and its legacy— thus making him the only character to directly tell Abuela there is something more important than the Madrigal miracle. In this moment, Agustín demonstrates strong self-differentiation that his foil, Felix, doesn’t show within the timeframe of the movie.

If I were part of Felix and Agustín’s care team…
I would encourage both Felix and Agustín to talk more about their families of origin and the roles they played there. How are the traits they picked up in those families working out among the Madrigals? What is working, and what should they consider leaving behind? In addition to recommending individual counseling, I would specifically encourage Felix and Agustín to participate in group therapy so they can try on some different roles and dynamics in a lower pressure setting than their found family.

Camilo- The Paradox of Playfulness

Paradoxically, Friedman writes, the most playful individuals in a family may prove the most adept at addressing serious issues. The Madrigal family’s shapeshifter, Camilo, certainly fits the bill. As not only a middle sibling but a middle cousin, Camilo seems primed to be overlooked. How does he respond to this? Pranks, mischief, and general mockery. With his ability to look like anyone in the village, he regularly impersonates his family members to their annoyance, yet his caricatures of his loved ones also prompt them toward healthy change.

When Camilo masquerades as Dolores, he is completely silent, and Dolores yells at him— her most emotive display in the whole movie other than her later wooing of Mariano. Dolores has been the family wallflower, but Camilo goads her into sharing her feelings.

When Mirabel inquires about Bruno, Camilo doesn’t hesitate to depict their uncle’s most sinister attributes. Sure, his portrayal exaggerates the aloof Tio Bruno, but Camilo still reveals just how uneasy the rest of the family was with Bruno’s intimidating gift.

To relieve tension prior to Antonio’s ceremony, Camilo transforms into an even shorter and livelier version of Felix, which both amuses Antonio and sends the message to Felix that he needs to chill out a little.

Through his humor, Camilo often reveals truths the other Madrigals ignore or deny. He can force difficult conversations in a way no other family member can, and because he always surrounds these issues with humor, he makes them more accessible. While, from the outside, Camilo may seem like the family clown, he serves a vital function, and I doubt the Madrigals would be able to confront many of their issues without Camilo’s playfulness.

If I were part of Camilo’s care team…
Honestly, Camilo seems pretty well adjusted. Were he my patient, I’d probably serve as a sounding board for him to vent about some of his family’s issues, but throughout Encanto, he doesn’t seem shy about naming this stuff directly. Because Camilo has spent so much time learning to imitate his family, I might encourage him to spend time in other systems (a workplace, school, group therapy) to see how he functions as a part of groups other than his family. He seems comfortable among the Madrigals, but what would it look like for Camilo to be himself in other spaces?

The Town- Extended Family Field

No person exists in isolation.
No family exists in isolation.
Our relationships always go beyond the immediate.

Just as we’ve looked at some of the interlocking triangles among the thirteen Madrigals (fourteen if you count Casita), we must also remember that everyone in the family has relationships outside the house as well. The Guzman family, the bald priest, the lady with the dead fish, the coffee-drinking kids— all have relationships with the Madrigals, and all affect the dynamics within the house.

Mirabel’s interactions with the townspeople highlight her insecurity.
Bruno’s undesirable prophecies showcase his awkwardness and loneliness.
Felix and Agustín presumably came from other families in the town.
Luisa establishes her self-worth by how she’s able to help the townsfolk.
Her possible marriage to a non-Madrigal finally pushes Isabela to express herself.
Antonio’s ceremony isn’t just important to the Madrigals; the whole town attends.

The town serves a vital role in helping the Madrigals address their issues, and no breakdown of the Madrigal family could be complete without acknowledging these other dynamics. When the Madrigals experience the collapse of their home and a possible end to their way of life, the town rallies around them and helps them rebuild. The town is a crucial part of their larger support system.

If I were part of the town’s care team…
Look, the town already has a priest as their primary spiritual caregiver, so I don’t want to overstep my bounds. Still, I’m curious about how having the remarkable Madrigals around affects others in the town. Also, as a point of hygiene, how long has that one woman from the “We Don’t Talk about Bruno” song been hanging onto her dead goldfish? I would consult a social worker.

Concluding Thoughts

I’m not really sure what remains to be said, but I still feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of Encanto. I mean, we’ve barely touched sibling order and the cultural context of Colombia. There are even more unexplored triangles. And I haven’t even touched Abuela’s paradoxical desire to “earn the gift” when gifts are, by definition, free. Besides, I figured the gift was already tied to Pedro’s sacrifice, and— you know, what? I’m getting sidetracked. Anyway,…

These filmmakers really did an outstanding job breathing life into every member of the Madrigal family. Each has believable quirks and motivations and goals and obstacles. They feel like a real multigenerational family navigating their conflicts together— supporting one another, irritating one another, and, in general, loving one another. I also hope this study of the Madrigal family has helped you better understand Family Systems Theory. For more information, I really recommend Edwin Friedman’s Generation to Generation, which has been a big help to me in hospital chaplaincy and bar chaplaincy alike. Remember: All of us are part of systems bigger than ourselves, and stepping back and studying those systems can help us gain awareness of our own hopes, fears, and desires.