Jeff Yang is a columnist for The Wall Street Journal and a frequent contributor to radio shows including Public Radio International's "The Takeaway" and WNYC's "The Brian Lehrer Show." He is the co-author of " I Am Jackie Chan: My Life in Action " and editor of the graphic novel anthologies " Secret Identities " and " Shattered ." The views expressed are his own.

"I'm not a princess -- I'm the daughter of a chief!"

"If you wear a dress and you have an animal sidekick, you're a princess."

That exchange of dialogue sums up the brilliantly self-aware and self-disruptive approach that Disney's next great animated feature "Moana" -- which hit theaters Wednesday -- takes to challenging our definitions of what it means to be a young woman, and what it means to be a hero.

"Moana" features newcomer Auli'i Cravalho as its titular non-princess and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson as Maui, a roguish but broken demigod who wears his legendary status quite literally on his sleeve (and chest, and back, and stomach). Their relationship is remarkable, in part because the divine being in this story plays second banana to -- and is repeatedly saved by -- the intrepid 16-year-old girl who gets the movie's top billing.

But this past September, long before the movie was set to be screened, it already found itself wriggling on the fishhook of controversy

In anticipation of its November launch, Disney had released a set of licensed Halloween costumes, allowing eager kids to trick or treat as Moana and Maui. Moana's outfit was effectively a generic Pacific Island-motif top and sarong. Maui's, on the other hand, was a leotard patterned with tribal graphics representing the demigod's tattoos, which play a critical role in the film's narrative. And the leotard was padded (to provide "mighty stature") ... and mocha-chocolate in tone.

The outcry was sharp, loud and instant. The argument could be made that this wasn't cultural appropriation -- a common charge made against costumes that depict race, ethnicity or nationality in a flattened, cliché or stereotypical fashion. But it unquestionably was something even more problematic: Brownface.

By providing kids with the actual skin of a Polynesian to wear on top of their own, it extracted, diminished and elided the identity of the people born with that complexion (and subject to historical oppression and even genocide because of it). It was a self-inflicted wound that Disney could have avoided, not least by simply imagining what it would look like for a towheaded, blue-eyed child with a porcelain complexion to have bronze skin beginning at the neck.

The uproar over the costume was just one example of how challenging the straits of identity are for those who seek to navigate pop culture away from its resiliently Eurocentric, patriarchal native island. Which isn't just a "politically correct" nicety -- it's a recognition that the world has gotten tremendously bigger, and the stories that are rooted in these traditions have become less and less relevant over time.

The trigger moment for Moana's story is her tribe's discovery that the waters around their home have been fished out, and the fertile soil is no longer delivering new bounty. That's a pretty good metaphor for Hollywood, as it keeps mining the same tired territories for inspiration with dwindling returns.

Even in an era of anti-globalist backlash, the studios realize that forging outward and navigating to new worlds is a necessity, not a luxury, to save their business. The movie is an example of what they can and should do. Maui the Halloween costume is an example of what they might and shouldn't. .. yet can't seem to avoid.

Case in point: Last weekend saw the release of the first official trailer for the DreamWorks/Paramount big-budget science fiction opus, "Ghost in the Shell," expected to hit theaters next March. "Ghost" is an adaptation of a hugely popular Japanese graphic novel and animated franchise by Masamune Shirow, set in a futuristic Tokyo where robots are everywhere, cyborg body modification has become the norm and hackers have become an existential threat to society.

Like "Moana," the franchise has a genre-shattering non-white female hero: Maj. Motoko Kusanagi.

But unlike "Moana," which took care to find individuals with authentic Polynesian heritage for its major roles, the producers of "Ghost" chose to cast summer tent-pole staple Scarlett Johansson as its unambiguously Japanese protagonist.

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Now, let's be clear, that's a business decision they had every right to make. Johansson is a legitimate box office draw, and hugely expensive adaptations of unfamiliar cult content are risky.

What's problematic is that in doing so, the producers chose to preserve every other aspect of the original story -- including its Tokyo setting, its Japanese wardrobe and decor aesthetic, its nonhumans (robot geishas) and its disposable villains and ethnic backdrop crowds; and most problematically, the physical appearance of its main cast.

At one point, it was reported that producers experimented with CGI to give the white actors an even more Asian appearance. Johansson sports a jet-black swallowtail bowl cut. Juliette Binoche, who plays a cyberneticist of questionable ethics, wears a kimono.

Character names have been anglicized, perhaps to deflect from the charge that these cosmetic alterations represent yellowface -- Johansson is now just referred to as "The Major" and Binoche's character is named "Dr. Oulet" -- but if the intent, as producer Stephen Paul claims , was to represent "Ghost" as an international and not a Japanese story, why is everything in the film painstakingly Japanese, except its white leads?

Let's hope that audiences vote with their wallets at the box office, and that "Moana," a film that shows the incredible depth and richness that the world offers when we invite others in to share their stories, preemptively crushes "Ghost" -- a movie that turns ethnicity into just another special effect. Our pop culture future depends on it.