Framing Heroes, Failing Sequels, and Falling Icons: What Media Teaches Us About Narratives

Stories are never just stories.

Whether it’s a breaking news headline, a blockbuster sequel, or a hip-hop album, every narrative is constructed with intent. Behind the scenes, choices are made: what details to emphasize, what emotions to evoke, and, ultimately, what message to send.

This past week, three distinct narratives caught my attention—not because they’re related, but because they highlight the immense power (and occasional failure) of storytelling in shaping how we see the world.

1. The United Healthcare shooter, framed across media channels as everything from a villain to an anti-corporate folk hero.
2. Disney’s Moana 2, an uninspired sequel that leans on nostalgia but fails to evolve.
3. Ice Cube’s Man Down, an album that prioritizes anti-woke rhetoric over musical creativity.

Each of these examples teaches us something crucial about storytelling: how it shapes public perception, how it can go wrong, and why audiences deserve better.

The Shooter, the Villain, and the “Hero”

The media’s coverage of the United Healthcare shooter is a textbook example of how framing shapes narratives. Depending on where you look, this man is either a deranged villain, a symptom of systemic failings, or a vigilante hero standing up to corporate greed.

Let’s unpack this.

Mainstream conservative outlets focus on the shooter’s mental health, conveniently sidestepping broader conversations about gun control. Liberal media platforms, meanwhile, frame the tragedy as yet another failure of America’s policies on firearms and corporate exploitation. And then there’s social media—a wild card. Here, the shooter has been reframed as a “hero” by some who see his actions as a stand against the inequities of the healthcare industry.

This isn’t just a difference in perspective; it’s a masterclass in framing theory.

Framing Theory tells us that how information is presented profoundly affects how we perceive it. In this case, conservative media emphasizes personal pathology, while liberal outlets zoom out to discuss systemic issues. Meanwhile, social media taps into a growing frustration with corporate greed, reframing a tragic figure into an anti-hero.

But it doesn’t stop there. Moral panic, another media phenomenon, is in full swing. By sensationalizing the shooter’s actions, some outlets create a “folk devil” to stoke societal fear. On the other hand, social media’s reframing of him as a vigilante evokes the same cultural fascination that turned characters like the Joker into anti-establishment symbols.

What’s the takeaway? There’s no such thing as a neutral story. Every narrative serves an agenda, consciously or unconsciously. And as media consumers, it’s on us to interrogate not just what we’re told, but how—and why—it’s being told.

Moana 2: When Nostalgia Isn’t Enough

From the news, we move to the silver screen—or, in this case, the disappointing glow of Moana 2.

It’s been eight years since Disney introduced us to Moana, a vibrant and culturally rich story that captivated audiences worldwide. This sequel, however, feels like it’s stuck in a time loop. Instead of building on the original, it offers outdated visuals, subpar dubbing, and a storyline that feels more like a recycled pitch meeting than a creative triumph.

Eight years is an eternity in animation, yet the sequel’s visuals are nearly indistinguishable from the first film. Where’s the innovation? Where’s the leap forward that Pixar and other studios regularly achieve?

The storytelling doesn’t fare much better. The original Moana felt authentic, grounded in Polynesian culture, with a protagonist who defied stereotypes. Moana 2, by contrast, leans on tired Hollywood clichés. The narrative—another ocean-saving quest—feels hollow, devoid of the emotional depth or cultural specificity that made the first film so special.

And let’s talk music. The first Moana gave us “How Far I’ll Go,” a song that transcended the film to become a cultural anthem. The sequel? Not one memorable track. In a Disney film, that’s practically sacrilege.

This isn’t just a bad sequel; it’s emblematic of a larger issue in storytelling. When studios prioritize safe, predictable narratives over creative risks, they betray the trust of their audience. And trust, in media or business, is a fragile thing.

Ice Cube’s Man Down: When Messaging Overwhelms Art

If Moana 2 is a case of playing it too safe, Ice Cube’s Man Down is the opposite: a bold, reactionary statement that stumbles under its own weight.

Ice Cube has always been a cultural commentator, but this album feels less like music and more like a manifesto against woke culture. There’s a lot to critique about the excesses of modern “wokeness,” but Man Down lacks nuance. Tracks like “So Sensitive” feel like Twitter rants set to a beat, leaving little room for musical exploration or thoughtful critique.

Musically, the album struggles as well. Ice Cube’s earlier work was innovative, raw, and full of energy. Man Down, however, feels stuck in a repetitive cycle of familiar beats and rhythms, as if Ice Cube’s creative spark has been dulled by his frustration.

Here’s the problem: When messaging overwhelms artistry, the result feels forced. The music loses its ability to connect, to inspire, to challenge in a way that invites reflection rather than resistance.

This album is a reminder that creativity and messaging must work in harmony. Tip the scales too far in one direction, and you risk losing what made your work resonate in the first place.

Why These Narratives Matter

What do a shooter, a sequel, and a hip-hop album have in common? They’re all examples of how narratives shape our world—and what happens when those narratives falter.

1. Media framing defines public perception: The United Healthcare shooter’s story shows how the same event can become multiple truths, depending on who’s telling it.

2. Audiences demand more: Moana 2 is proof that we’re no longer satisfied with nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake. We want innovation, authenticity, and respect for our intelligence.

3. Balance is everything: Ice Cube’s Man Down reminds us that even the boldest messaging needs to be grounded in quality storytelling.

At their core, these examples reveal the power of storytelling—for better or worse. Whether it’s a breaking news story, a Hollywood blockbuster, or a musical album, the narratives we consume don’t just entertain us. They shape how we see ourselves, each other, and the world.

Take-Aways

As media consumers, we’re not just passive participants. We’re part of the storytelling process. When we demand better stories—ones that are honest, innovative, and thoughtful—we push creators to rise to the challenge.

Because in the end, stories aren’t just reflections of our world. They’re tools to build the future. Let’s make sure that future is one worth creating.