Ever since he was a little boy, it’s been Plankton’s dream to take over the world—a dream he believes he can fulfill if he can only steal the infamous-but-secret Krabby Patty formula. The reason he believes this is a bit convoluted; but suffice it to say that Plankton’s plans have always failed, often foiled by SpongeBob himself.

Unfortunately, that repeated failure has taken a toll on Karen. She’s always supported her husband’s dream, but she believes he’s going about it the wrong way. Karen’s something of an evil genius herself—being a cross between a computer and a robot, after all—but for 25 years, Plankton has neglected to acknowledge her brilliance.

Well, enough is enough for Karen. So when Plankton refuses to listen to her ideas once again, Karen decides to end their evil alliance and take over the world for herself.

Realizing he can’t stop Karen alone, Plankton reluctantly teams up with SpongeBob. But the happy, yellow sponge doesn’t just want to save Bikini Bottom: He wants to save Plankton’s marriage.

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Her father, Simba, has temporarily left to be with Nala, her mother, as she prepares to give birth. And sure, she’s got Timon, Pumbaa and Rafiki to look after her while Simba’s away, but that approaching storm makes her tremble even more.

That’s why Rafiki sits her down to tell her the story of another scared cub who overcame his fear and became the lion king: her grandfather, Mufasa.

Yes, Mufasa was also terrified when that flash flood swept him away from his parents and into a foreign land. But he found a brother in Taka, the cub who pulled him from the water and helped Mufasa find acceptance in a new pride.

Taka is royal blood, son of King Obasi. And he’s ecstatic to finally have a brother with whom he can grow old. And one day, when Taka is king, he and Mufasa can rule over all the creatures of the land.

But the truth is … Taka is no leader. He is a coward, which is why he fled when outsider lions ambushed his mother.

The lions are led by Kiros, a fierce, white-coated feline who has slaughtered his way through the lands to crown himself the lion king—and he’s soon to arrive at Taka’s pride. That’s why Taka and Mufasa are commanded by King Obasi to flee to order to preserve the royal bloodline. They take off, hoping to take refuge in the far-off Milele, a mythical land of peace and prosperity.

But something nags at Taka. Because as they journey, he can’t help but see the animals they encounter along the way look at Mufasa as leader, not at him. They admire Mufasa’s traits, not his.

Isn’t Taka the one who’s supposed to rule?

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Moana teamed up with Maui to find and return the heart of Te Fiti. In so doing, they calmed Te Ka (who, it turns out, was just who Te Fiti became without her heart). And the ocean was finally safe to traverse again.

Well, Moana’s been doing just that. As her village’s Windfinder, she’s been sailing across the sea, searching for new islands and new peoples.

As of yet, she’s had no success. Sure, there are plenty of other islands in the area. Some even show evidence of other tribes having lived there once. But nobody has responded to her conch-shell calls.

Then, Moana receives a vision from her ancestor Tautai Vasa, the former Windfinder of her island. According to him, Moana’s mission is doomed to fail unless she can find the legendary island of Motufetu. In ages past, the island served as a central connection point, a place where all the currents of the ocean (and all the peoples) met. Unfortunately, Nalo, the god of thunder and chaos who hates humans, sunk the island to the depths of the sea, cutting off the currents and preventing passage from one island group to the next.

Moana learns that unless she finds Motufetu and breaks Nalo’s curse, her people will eventually wither away and die alone in isolation. And not just her people, but the people of each island she’s yet to discover.

The voyage will be long and dangerous. In fact, it could take a lifetime to succeed—if Moana is indeed able to succeed at all. But she won’t let her people down. And so Moana chooses, once again, to leave all she loves behind to learn what lies beyond the horizon.

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From her fellow townspeople’s point of view, however, there is one little problem: She’s just not like them. She reads books. And she dreams of adventure and true love. What a peculiar young thing.

Of course that doesn’t stop the lantern-jawed Gaston from wanting her as his wife. She’s the prettiest girl in town, after all, which makes her the best. And doesn’t he deserve the best?! He’s certain he’ll cure her of all that silly reading and dreaming once they tie the knot.

Belle isn’t interested. She’d rather wait for the future while taking care of her forgetful but loving papa. He’s such a dear old fellow, and an inventor, too. Someday his wonderfully quirky inventions will make him famous, she’s sure of it.

So when Papa gets lost on his way to the city, and his horse returns without him, Belle is instantly concerned. And she rides out to search for him, his faithful horse taking her to the gates of a gloomy old castle. Inside, she finds her father, locked away in a dungeon cell.

“Go away, Belle!” he cries. “Save yourself.” But it’s too late. The surly owner of this enchanted castle has heard the commotion and storms into the shadow-cloaked room. With bared teeth and an angry roar, he makes the facts clear: Papa trespassed and a price must be paid. If Belle wants to take his place, so be it. But someone will be the lifelong prisoner of … the Beast!

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Elphaba, you see, is green.

Elphaba’s flesh is actually a violent shade of green: a spinach-cabbage-and-kale-juice-in-a-blender tint. From the moment that she was born in her little Ozian home, people were aghast at her verdant appearance. And no one could explain how it had happened.

In any case, Elphaba’s skin shade ensured teasing and torment her entire life. Even her own father only endures her because she loves and cares so well for her crippled sister Nessarose.

Now, Elphaba is entering into Shiz University, along with her sister, Nessarose, who’s in a wheelchair. The reactions of the other students are nothing new: They look sadly upon Nessarose and are appalled at her greenly offensive sister.

Then there’s Galinda.

Despite all the glares and uncomfortable sighs around her, the incredibly popular and blonde Galinda took very little notice of the disturbance. She had so much more to think about: her smile, her hair, her reflection in any shiny surface. This school icon with her radiant hair, perfect ears and button nose barely had time to spare for a black-clad green person.

In fact, Galinda probably wouldn’t have given Elphaba so much as a sneer except for … two key interactions.

The first of these moments was when Elphaba let her emotions get away from her in the school courtyard and something, well, stormy happened. Was that magic? You hardly see that in Oz anymore.

Galinda and the other students were suddenly quiet and paying attention. Galinda in particular. For, you see, she wants to be a magic user herself. But she doesn’t seem to have much aptitude for it. Could it be that the green girl can … oh, never mind. It must have been a trick of the eye.

The second special moment took place just after Galinda finished unpacking her many cases and wardrobes in her dorm room. It was at that instant that the door opened and in walked, of all people, the green girl. She’s Galinda’s roommate.

But here’s the thing: It was at this exact moment when these two locked eyes that something stirred in both their souls. Something deep, something unexpected. Fervent as a flame, it’s a feeling neither have ever felt before.

What could it be called?

Uh … loathing! Yes, that’s it.

They hated each other with a red-hot passion; so pure, so strong. This is bound to be a terrible year. To be breathing and sleeping in the same dorm room with someone like that. These two are both certain that it will be a disgustifing experience.

Or.

Maybe.

It could be the beginning of a friendship that’s altogether magical.

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“You’re not Charles Dickens,” Rizzo the Rat replies.

“I am, too.”

“No, a blue furry Charles Dickens who hangs out with a rat?”

“Absolutely!”

Well, Gonzo may not actually be Charles Dickens. But he does seem to know the 19^th-century novelist’s tale A Christmas Carol like the back of his hand. In fact, he proves it.

Gonzo narrates the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, a miserly old grump with love for nothing but money. As London’s citizens put it, “If they gave a prize for being mean, the winner would be him.”

But on Christmas Eve, Scrooge is visited by several spirits who warn him that if he doesn’t change his ways, he’ll suffer the consequences of his sins.

And it all starts with this famous line:

The Marleys were dead to begin with …

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Princess Ellian of Lumbria wishes that was the case with her parents. But King Solon and Queen Ellsmere are monsters.

No, like, they’re literally monsters.

Ellian isn’t sure how, but about a year ago, her parents were cursed. Since she hasn’t found a way to return them to normal yet, she and the palace servants have been keeping the beastly king and queen locked up, hiding them from the public and praying nobody finds out their secret.

Luckily, Ellian may not have the keep the charade up for much longer.

The Oracles of the Sun and Moon, the most powerful beings in Ellian’s world, have agreed to help the royal family—or at least to give them some advice.

According to them, the king and queen turned into beasts because they lost the light that guides them through life. So all they need to do is find a new source of light.

Luckily, the Lake of Light is just such a source. But ironically, it’s located deep within the Dark Forest of Eternal Darkness (so dark, they named it twice).

Ellian will have to guide her parents on their pathless, lightless journey as they discover a way through mountains, ford new streams and glide across deserts. You know, if the unstable cliffs, deadly rapids and quicksand don’t kill them first.

But Ellian is willing to do whatever it takes. Just so long as things go back to how they used to be.

[Note: Spoilers are contained in the following sections.]

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At least that’s what the cheering throngs in the street think. He’s a chaotic anti-hero to them. A man who screams in the face of authority and blows out someone’s brains on national TV. This clown-painted misfit represents every angst-filled shriek they keep bottled up inside.

Arthur, on the other hand, feels none of that. He wears no clown face. He’s just a rail-thin, broken man who’s dragged near-naked out of his cell each day to dump out his pot of urine. He’s heavily drugged, empty and drifting numbly toward an approaching death sentence.

He murdered five people, after all. Six, if you count his mother.

But then Arthur meets a woman named Lee as he’s dragged through the nearby psychiatric asylum. They talk. They bond over parental abuse. Her eyes glow with manic adoration. And a frail, broken man walks away … with a song in his heart.

Sure, his trial is days away. It’s an open-and-shut case. But music is his hiding place, an escape. It lifts the hellish up to the level of merely painful. It, like love, can even give this husk of a slightly psychotic man a reason to look forward, not down. And Arthur is suddenly filled with music.

That music may be discordant at times. It may bleed into a minor key. But it’s better that the sour-breathed chortles of the heavy-handed guards and the constant waul of Arthur’s onrushing death.

Perhaps there’s a way. The doctors who interviewed him gave him the right words to say, the right psychosis to wear. That and Lee’s eyes and voice could be enough. And when she begins singing with Arthur in his mental musicals, Arthur is sure.

They want a killer to sing at trial. The Joker will croon.

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Attorney Rita Mora Castro certainly understands that. Del Monte—known to his legion of well-paid friends as “Manitas”—is one of Mexico’s most notorious drug lords. His wealth is fathomless, his power limitless. His infamy? Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it? Everybody knows his name. But if he shows his face in the wrong places? He might find himself seated in a courtroom—or dead and dismembered in the desert.

Yes, Manitas wants—needs—a change, the sort of change that requires someone to meet the right people, grease the right palms, distribute the right palms. And so, he bribed and brought Rita to him: Bribed her with the promise of life-changing money, then brought her to his well-armed encampment with a bag over her head. You can’t be too careful. Not here, not with the change he seeks to make.

And what kind of help could someone like Rita provide? What kind of change could a man like this want? Rita wonders as she faces the notorious criminal—a man who could have her fed to his dogs with a snap of his fingers. Does he want a visa to a country far, far away? Perhaps a new identity: plastic surgery to hide the telltale scars and golden grill in his mouth? A litany of new bank accounts to shuffle newly laundered money into?

Manitas won’t say. Not until Rita agrees to work for him. “Hearing is accepting,” he tells her.

“What do I risk?” Rita asks.

“Becoming rich,” Manitas says with a smile.

Rita takes the piece of paper offered to her and signs. She’s accepted. Now, it’s time to hear.

“I want to be a woman,” Manitas says.

Rita betrays little surprise other than a small pause, a widening of the eyes.

“To change your life or to change your sex?” She asks, finally.

“What’s the difference?” Manitas says.

If Rita has qualms, it doesn’t matter now. Hearing is accepting. If Manitas wants a sex change, he’ll have it. She’ll find a doctor who’ll keep the secret. She’ll find a place where he can heal, somehow plant evidence that convinces the world—including Manitas’ own cartel—that he’s well and truly dead. She’ll protect Manitas’ wife, Jessie, and two young sons—sending them to a country where they’ll be safe from Manitas’ countless enemies. Rita will make it happen; if she doesn’t, the drug lord will surely have her killed.

But if Rita imagines that a successful surgery will mark the end of her relationship with Manitas, she’ll have quite the surprise in store.

[Warning: Spoilers are contained in the following sections.]

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For Moon, a tiny owl just getting his wings under him, shiny is the best. If he sees something glitter on the ground or gleam in the trees, Moon will grab it, yessiree. He’ll bring it home and show his boring ol’ dad.

So what if Moon kinda, well, wrecked the nest after his latest treasure hunt? He brought home something shiny, at least! And now that the family nest is destroyed, they can all rebuild it! In silver!

“When you’re grown, you can make your silver nest in any tree you like,” Moon’s exasperated father says. “But it’s getting cold, and we have no nest at all.” Dad’ll need to go out into the forest and try to remedy that—and bring home something for dinner, too. So he gives Moon a very important job: Watching his baby sister while Dad’s away.

“Stay very still and very quiet,” Dad says. “And don’t go anywhere!”

But being still and quiet and don’t go anywhere isn’t Moon’s thing. The nest is broken, and Moon figures he’s just the owl to fix it. I mean, all he needs to do is gather a few sticks, right? And whaddya know, they live in a forest! There are sticks everywhere! So Moon promises his sister that he’ll stay close to the tree and be right back.

And then he sees something shiny.

The next thing you know, Moon’s attacked by a hawk. Dad swoops into the rescue, but Moon tumbles down and breaks his wing. With danger still hovering, Dad still has some work to do—but Moon sure can’t make it home by himself. Not with a broken wing.

“You’re going to be fine,” he tells Moon. “Just stay in the tree. Stay. In. The. Tree!”

This time, Moon listens. He stays in the tree all night. He stays in the tree even as someone chops it down. He stays in the tree as it’s carried down the freeway. And he’s in the tree when it’s placed smack-dab in the middle of Manhattan’s Rockefeller Center, festooned with lights and glass balls and scads of decorations.

Shiny.

But as much as Moon likes shiny, he likes something else even more.

Home.

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