It didn’t seem like a wise idea to ask any of the children at my recent screening of Disney’s Frozen 2 (out November 22) what they thought of it. So instead I’ll just assume that the many giddy shrieks and laughs heard throughout suggest that the little ones for whom this movie—a sequel to the 2013 mega-hit that revived the moribund Disney princess genre and created an earworm for the ages in the power ballad “Let It Go”—was made liked it quite a good deal. Sure, there were a few errant cries for more popcorn rather than more Elsa, and yes some of the wee-est folk had to be carried out by their parents, back into the relative brightness, and thus safety, of the theater lobby. But for the most part, the kids seemed to think Frozen 2 was pretty great—pretty exciting, pretty funny, pretty transporting.

Take their word for it, I suppose. Because, from my sorry adult view, this sequel is entirely unnecessary, except in its duty to serve the needs of capital. Unnecessary isn’t always a bad thing; plenty of fun or otherwise enriching stuff doesn’t need to exist. But a dire case of cynical sequelitis plagues Frozen 2. The directors—Jennifer Lee and Chris Buck—and writers—Lee and Allison Schroeder—grasp for a new mythos to match the original’s, but come up woefully short. In that striving to justify a sequel, the Frozen team is forced to go bigger, grander, more existential, while still keeping things accessible to children. That’s a really tough balancing act, one Frozen 2 can’t manage. While I admire the movie’s attempt to more deeply mine the identities of sister-princesses Anna (sweet, non-magical) and Elsa (restless, can control snow and ice), its discoveries are rushed and are served up half-baked.

As Ralph Breaks the Internet proved quite winningly this time last year, a children’s film about one half of a lovable duo leaving the comfort of home to explore the world beyond is a pretty poignant story device. Frozen 2 begins promisingly in that same vein: following the first film’s adventure, Anna is content in her Nordic kingdom of Arendelle, hanging out with her sister, her dopey-hunk boyfriend Kristoff, and her magical snowman friend Olaf. Elsa, on the other hand, is feeling an itch. She’s being called to by a faraway song only she can hear. She suspects that in following that voice—maybe it’s hers?—she may discover where she, so othered by her unique magic abilities, really belongs.

That’s the journey of the movie, one towards further growth and self-actualization that will have the many fan theorists out there who’ve pegged Elsa as a maybe-queer icon just that much more convinced. (For a brief, brief second during the movie I thought Disney might actually confirm—or at least overtly hint at—that supposition in the film. But, no; Anna’s boring old straight relationship is the only real romance we get.) Along the way, Frozen 2 issues vague, if important, messages about conservation and environmentalism; about respecting indigenous peoples and cultures; and about how growing up is both scary and exciting, urging that realizing nothing is permanent in this or any world should be an encouragement to embrace the more intangibly lasting things, like love.

That’s all nice stuff! And I’m sure some of it will burrow into various kids’ brains and become some tiny but crucial part of their worldview. So I’m not trying to rain (snow?) on that lesson-learning parade. From a purely aesthetic point, though, Frozen 2 imparts those themes less than inspiringly. The film’s plotting relies on quick realizations and easy fixes. That’s not exactly rare in children’s entertainment, but there’s little effort to even half-disguise Frozen 2’s plot developments as organic. The movie hits each beat of its outline without any time or room allowed for a sense of true atmosphere or occasion—or revelation—to sink in.

The film is a lot of hurrying to get to what the conglomerate overlords surely care most about: achieving a “Let It Go”-esque moment of pop-ballad triumph, a true clarion call of marketability. Frozen 2 is really hungry for a sellable anthem. In that vain pursuit, the movie throws not one, not two, but three would-be barn-burners at the audience. The songs are by the original, Oscar-winning Frozen tunesmiths, Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez, so one might assume (if one is, perhaps, Bob Iger) that at least one of these sweaty songs is bound to recapture the old magic. They all sound fine, and are sung with the usual bombast by Idina Menzel (as Elsa) and, finally getting a belter, Kristen Bell (as Anna). And yet . . not a half-hour after seeing the movie, I couldn’t call up a single melody.

So that’s all something of a wash. But Frozen 2’s weirdest, and maybe worst, sin is how routinely unpleasant it is to look at. The animation is oddly bland and inert. Street scenes in Arendelle look distressingly, depressingly empty and devoid of life. When the sisters and their cohort travel north to explore the movie’s mystery, there are some bursts of fantastical visual grace. They’re fleeting, though, and otherwise Frozen 2 gives off the same lackluster dimness that hand-drawn direct-to-video sequels like Return of Jafar and Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas did back in their humbler day. There’s a patness to this theatrical-release sequel’s design that looks sorta cheap—even though I’m sure this movie cost quite a lot of money to make.

Again, what Frozen 2 is trying to say directly to kids has definite value. And there is sweetness to be found throughout, especially in the way the movie articulates how understanding oneself is a constant process—the first film’s happily-ever-after only got these sisters so far, it turns out. But the project surrounding those sentiments has a wheezy, floundering inelegance. Plenty of children will find it special, I’m sure. And maybe that’s all that matters. From my coldhearted grownup perspective, though, Frozen 2 pushes itself out on its own ice floe and it’s all too easy to, well, let it go.