When John Musker and Ron Clements told Disney Animation chief John Lasseter that they were interested in creating a new story based on the Polynesian demi-god Maui, Lasseter had one response: “Go research.”

Clements and Musker have an even longer history at Disney than Lasseter does; as the writer-director team behind The Little Mermaid and Aladdin, they essentially invented the modern Disney animated musical. But Lasseter was clear: the project would not go any further until Musker and Clements actually went to Polynesia, marking the beginning of a process that makes Moana one of Disney’s most culturally authentic endeavors yet. For a studio that has been dogged by accusations of cultural insensitivity in the past and present, it was no small accomplishment.

Musker and Clements’s 2011 trip to Polynesia, the first of many, led to the birth of what they would later name the Oceanic Trust. Consisting of a group of anthropologists, cultural practitioners, historians, linguists, and choreographers from islands including Samoa, Tahiti, Mo’orea, and Fiji, this group was integral in shaping some of the finest details of Moana, from character design to song lyrics—and they certainly understand the skeptics who raised eyebrows when the marketing materials for Moana were first released.

John Musker and Ron Clements on a Moana research trip Courtesy of Walt Disney Pictures

“Anybody who is familiar with the history of the Pacific Islanders in film, there’s cause for worry,” said Dionne Fonoti, an anthropologist and filmmaker from Samoa who was part of the Trust. Even the film’s young star, Auli’i Cravalho, a Hawaiian teenager making her film debut, admitted that she wasn’t so starstruck by Disney’s interest to approach Moana without concerns. “I was wary,” she admits. “I think that everyone can say they might be a little afraid of it, because when we have a film that is inspired by a culture we want to feel good about it.”

When the first designs for Dwayne Johnson’s character, Maui—the heroic Polynesian demigod who created the Pacific Islands by fishing them out of the sea—were revealed, some Pacific Islanders objected to his robust shape. Will Ilolahia, from the Pacific Island Media Association, told Waatea News in June that Disney’s version looked offensively wrong to him: “[Maui] is depicted in the stories that’s been handed down, especially in my culture, as a person of strength. . . . This depiction of Maui being obese is typical American stereotyping.” New Zealand M.P. Jenny Salesa, of Tongan heritage, posted a photo of Maui on her Facebook, captioning him “half pig, half hippo.”

The film was hit by controversy again in September, when a Maui costume featuring a tattooed body stocking was pulled from the Disney store in the wake of complaints about “brownfacing” and cultural appropriation. “I think we did the right thing as far as the costume was concerned and Maui was concerned,” the 15-year-old Cravalho says. Musker calls the pushback “understandable” given the historically bad treatment of Pacific Islanders on film.

Disney Animation has come a long way since the days of “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” and “What Makes the Red Man Red.” But even Disney’s early 90s renaissance was marked by criticism. “It’s Racist, but Hey, It’s Disney” a New York Times headline read of 1992’s Aladdin, while 1995’s Pocahontas inspired at least one scholarly paper about persistent, damaging stereotypes of Native Americans.

But by the time Disney made its first trip to the Pacific Islands with 2002’s Lilo and Stitch, the company’s increased commitment to cultural respect had led to island research trips and a cast of Hawaiian voice actors who were encouraged to rewrite their lines to include more accurate pidgin and Hawaiian slang. But with Moana—which deals in ancient and sometimes mythological aspects of the wider Polynesian culture—the input was much more granular and scholarly.