Reviewing - Pixar Animation Studios: 2004 - 2009
A Tale of Two Studios
Shortly before the release of Toy Story, Disney and Pixar had struck a deal; Pixar would produce three animated films that Disney would distribute. This allowed Pixar to get their movies to a paying audience, but gave Disney the rights to the characters and any sequels. Eventually this became a very uncomfortable deal for Pixar – particularly when they were pushed to do a traditionally animated Toy Story sequel. Further, Pixar was effectively prevented from sprinting with any idea, seeing as they couldn’t pursue further stories with any successful characters. It was a more complicated deal than I’m describing here, but eventually tensions boiled to the point where Pixar and Disney’s negotiations collapsed shortly before the release of The Incredibles.
At the time, Michael Eisner was in charge at Disney, and his inability to offer a deal that Steve Jobs liked was a major reason that their talks didn’t work out. But along came new CEO Bob Iger (the guy who would eventually help Disney grab Marvel, Star Wars, and 20th Century Fox), who managed to smooth things over with Jobs and work out a mutually beneficial agreement. Disney bought Pixar, but both studios would retain their independence from each other. Pixar continued to release hit after hit, proving over and over again that the 7.4 billion dollars Disney paid for them was a worthwhile investment.
The Incredibles (****)
In which it's leftover night and Tony Rydinger is on the menu
An important step forward for Pixar Animation, The Incredibles is a genre-bending ride that I’ve watched probably half a million times.
Back when DVD players in vans was about as cool as landing on Mars would be today, a copy of The Incredibles stayed for likely an entire year in my family’s vehicle. There were a few films in my family that earned the prestigious honour of being trapped in our van – the kinds of movies that we watched over and over and over until we could recite most lines from memory and tell you about every single bonus feature. We even watched a few scenes in other languages to see how our favourite jokes sounded. Pirates of the Caribbean 2, the original Spongebob movie, Spider-Man 2, Steve Martin’s Pink Panther and The Incredibles are all in this 2000s-era Hall of Fame. As a result, the fight between Bob and Helen has been one I’ve known by heart for years.
“I said I’d be back later.” “I assumed you’d be back later – if you came back at all, you’d be ‘back later’.”
As kids, we just recited it because it was fun to mimic the dramatic heights of the scene. We didn’t realize how realistic a scene this was. Having been married now for three years – not that that in any way makes me even remotely an expert in the field – I’ve had my share of fights, and this scene got it bang-on. This wasn’t one fight, but several. Helen’s mad that Bob lied, that he’s ‘reliving the glory days’, that he’s refusing to attend their son’s 4th grade ceremony, and that he’s putting his family’s needs second to his own. At the same time, Bob’s feeling unappreciated by society, mad about the way everyone seems to have moved on from something he’s hung up on, and mad at Helen because he feels she’s holding their kids back from greatness. The fight jumps from one argument to the next in the blink of an eye, and I’ve definitely been there. To clarify, I love my wife, and we’re doing great. Fights are normal and healthy from time to time. My point is that as a kid, I didn’t understand the complexity of this fight, or how on-the-nose they scripted it.
The other thing I didn’t quite get when I was younger was how much this film was about a father having an affair. I watched deleted scenes back then that emphasized this idea, but didn’t really take it in like I do now. Bob gets an offer from another woman to give him a chance to feel like he’s a ‘real man’ again. In accepting this offer, he gets into a habit of lying to his wife over and over to hide the truth. On the surface, it looks like things are great. But underneath, there’s a marriage that’s in shambles. On that note, it’s surprising just how unscathed Bob and Helen emerge. I mean, the trust in their marriage has suffered tremendously, right? They glaze over this part of the story I suppose because there’s a giant robot about to destroy the city, but I think the two of them deserved a more drawn-out reconciliation than what they got.
Even so, I loved how they tied this rather domestic story into the world of superheroes. It’s 100% a movie about family, but it’s also unquestionably a superhero movie. And by the way – it’s a GREAT superhero movie. The “Superhero Relocation Program” plotline reminds me so much of the MCU’s Sokovia Accords, except Pixar beat the MCU by twelve years. I love the idea of superheroes being asked to step down and having to come to terms with a world that feels it’s outgrown them. To enter the superhero genre and hit us with that right out of the gate was pretty awesome. And on top of all of that, this film really poked fun at superheroes in the midst of everything else. They referenced superhero clichés with the “you caught me monologuing” bit or “no capes”, and Mr. Incredible stopping a train seems far too coincidental to be anything but a nod to Spider-Man 2 which had come out just two years earlier. This was such a smart and witty flick.
The last thing I wanna say about this movie is that it’s the first one Pixar did that focused on human characters. Human movement, hair, and flesh textures were something they’d struggled with in the past, so this film marks a major milestone because it opened up a whole other world of storytelling possibilities. That’s not to say that they were restricted before, although I suppose they were. In fact, the constraints of the technology available at the time were part of the reason their stories ended up where they did directionally speaking. But now that they could pull off human characters convincingly, the kinds of stories they could tell increased dramatically.
It’s hard for me to settle on a rating just because it’s hard for me to view this film with fresh eyes. I’ve seen it so many times that re-watching it felt more like thinking an old familiar thought than revisiting an old friend. But maybe that speaks enough to the quality of this film. Pixar did it again!
Cars (***)
In which cars have tongues and we're all supposed to be okay with that
Although Cars revved up one of Pixar’s most profitable franchises, it’s nothing more or less than okay.
This film was to John Lasseter what Treasure Planet was to Ron Clements & John Musker. In both cases, you had a director who had proven his mettle a few times before. This director had had a dream for years, but it had never been the right time for it. Lasseter was and is an avid car fan, and after churning out a series of mega-hits, he finally got the chance to make a movie all about them. Luckily for Lasseter, his flick performed immeasurably better than Clements and Musker’s Treasure Planet. Cars really does seem to be an ode to the automobile in every sense of the word. We see all kinds of vehicles personified, and the world of racecars is front and center. There’s car drivers and car enthusiasts making cameos here and there, and a big chunk of the film’s heart has to do with a love of the open road. For car lovers, I can imagine this being an instant hit.
Unfortunately, I’ve never really cared much for cars.
Everyone’s got their thing, and I respect that. I don’t want to knock car enthusiasts any more than I want them to knock my love for classic literature. All I’m saying is that this movie isn’t exactly up my alley. If the story were phenomenal, I think I’d be swayed a bit further. But there’s nothing that new about the story – especially when you compare it to the brilliantly original scripts from Toy Story, Monsters Inc, or The Incredibles. A snobby city kid learns that there’s more to life than the fast lane. I’ve seen this story before.
That said, that doesn’t make this a bad movie. The animation is great, and the story is competently executed. The characters are also pretty fun, which is a staple by now of Pixar films. Kids all over the place loved this flick, and with all the bajillions of dollars they made in merchandising and toy cars, it’s no wonder this film got two sequels and a whole bunch of short films to boot.
Oh, and I’ve gotta give them points for delivering us Rascal Flatt’s awesome cover of “Life Is A Highway”. What a song.
Ratatouille (***1/2)
In which conclusive replicable proof of the humanoid sentience of an animal species leads to the closure of a restaurant and nothing more
Pixar brings the heat again – this time in a Parisian kitchen.
It’s gorgeous, it’s classy, and it’s got that heartfelt quality that Pixar has become famous for. To date, Ratatouille is the second Pixar film to not merit a sequel – which I suppose could be either a compliment or a critique. Whereas Toy Story or Monsters Inc created these worlds that we desperately wanted to know more about, the world of Ratatouille is simple enough that we’re not left with big questions about what’s next for the characters. It’s a self-contained story that wraps itself up nicely, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And man, Pixar really showed off with the way they animated Paris. I mean, yeah, it’s Paris – a naturally beautiful location for sure. But they could’ve messed it up, and they didn’t. They made everything bright, vibrant, and filled with life. The rain scenes in particular were very cool. The way the sidewalks glittered was just lovely.
Ratatouille doesn’t have anything tremendously profound to say beyond the idea that you should be yourself no matter what. Even so, it does a great job of getting us to root for a character who is desperate to do just that. Remy is a likable enough protagonist, and his motivations are clear and logical from beginning to end. His relationship with Linguini is the heart of the film, and their interactions are a lot of fun. You have to suspend your disbelief a little bit, but hey, we’re watching a movie about rats cooking.
I wouldn’t call this one of Pixar’s best films for a few reasons. It doesn’t bring us into a world we’ve always thought about. Toy Story, Monsters Inc, and Inside Out all take us places we’ve dreamed of. I didn’t cry – and I cry at a lot of Pixar movies. BUT just because it isn’t one of Pixar’s best doesn’t make it a bad movie. It’s visually stunning, wonderfully animated, and it makes you hungry. It’s definitely still miles ahead of the competition, which in 2007 was Shrek 3, Meet The Robinsons, and Surf’s Up.
Yeah. This destroys all of those guys.
Wall-e (****)
In which Pixar somehow makes dramatically unhealthy obesity adorable
Ambitiously simple and simply beautiful, Wall-e earns its place in the top tier of Pixar storytelling.
By 2008, Pixar had pumped out a number of wonderful short films – many featuring protagonists that didn’t speak. These were charming and effective in their own right, but I’m sure the idea of making the lead for a full-length film essentially a speechless figure wasn’t an easy decision to make. True, Wall-e turned out to be an excellent communicator. He’s like a step or two up from R2D2; he manages to express a wide range of adorable emotions thanks to his wider array of articulation than his Star Wars counterpart. He’s an instantly likeable character, and I don’t see how anyone could not be rooting for him every step of the way. Eve is a similarly wonderful character with limited speech ability. But the beauty of this film isn’t in its complexity (though it is complex both in theme and in its animation). It’s beautiful because of how they tell a compelling story with simple tools. Wall-e makes us fall in love with him with a few beeps and some incredibly expressive eyes.
Wall-e’s journey is an old one. He’s trying to win the affections of a girl who’s clearly way out of his league, and he’s also a social outcast of sorts who ends up changing his society for the better. But at the same time, it’s also a wholly unique tale. It’s a dystopian future with charm and cuteness, a stark contrast to futures like The Hunger Games or The Giver. This could just as easily have been a horrifying film. If you asked me to draw a picture of a 700 year old robot from a garbage-strewn planet coming face to face with a thousand obese adults too big to even walk on their own…that could very easily be a pretty scary image. But Pixar made it cute, and that’s no small feat. Not only that, but they tackled a bunch of grown-up questions without impeding the cuteness. What could unchecked multifaceted corporations do to our world? How do you shake a generation out of apathy? At what point does a problem become too big to try resolving? All of these are delved into through the lens of a cute little robot who’s got a cockroach for a best friend.
Unsurprisingly, the most intriguing characters in this story are the robots. Apart from Wall-e and Eve, there’s a whole other world of the ‘working class’. Wall-e indirectly becomes the face of a robot rebellion as they work to divert from their main directives in favor of doing other things they care about. Time and time again in this story, we see robots faced with decisions. Follow the rules – or break the rules to accomplish something greater. MO, a cleaning robot, is faced with a particularly difficult dilemma as he spots a mess outside of the green line he is allowed to tread on. If he remains on his line, he cannot accomplish his directive to clean. And if he leaves his line, he has failed his directive to remain in the line. Most robots would simply explode under that kind of pressure, but MO and many other robots end up making concrete decisions that impact the world around them. The result is a progressively messier and messier society. But it turns out that a little mess may not be so bad every now and then.
Wall-e is bold, creative, and challenging in its storytelling. It’s an absolute delight, with stunning visuals and a heartwarming lead. It’s Pixar in top form.
Up (****1/2)
In which we're all crying within ten minutes
I’ve seen this too many times to be crying this much.
Up has the kind of insurmountable whimsical charm that Mary Poppins or a Little Golden Book has. They’re beautiful, young, and carry a nugget of gold within them. The scene where Carl’s house is leaving town is pure joy. It’s an impossible image, for sure. We can’t deny that there’s literally no way an old man could fill that many balloons single-handedly, cover them on his own in his backyard with enough tarp to weigh them down, and also string every single one through his fireplace. What was his plan for hooking up power or water to the house once he landed in Paradise Falls? And what are the rules of balloon flying? Realistically speaking, at a certain point in the film the house should’ve just sunk to the ground once there wasn’t enough balloon or helium to support it. None of this pop-a-few-and-descend-a-bit stuff. That’s not how flight works. But who cares – the image of a house floating through the sky with a million colourful balloons is just too fun to overthink.
Carl and Russell are every bit the classic Pixar duo. They’re polar opposites from each other, stuck together to achieve the same goal of getting Carl’s house to Paradise Falls. They’re hilarious together on their own, but they also get help from Dug the talking dog and Kevin the endangered bird. Kevin is my only problem with the film. As entertaining as he is, he doesn’t convey the sense of awe or majesty that you’d expect from a long-lost species. Think of that feeling you get when you see a dinosaur or King Kong or a unicorn in a movie. There’s a kind of jaw-dropping enchantment that falls over you if they’ve done it right. Here, Kevin is about as unimposing as can be. He’s funny, for sure, but I just don’t think I would’ve taken the same approach.
To be honest, though, that’s a pretty small gripe to have amidst the splendour of the rest of this movie. Everyone knows about that four-minute silent sequence near the beginning of the film where we see Carl and Ellie live their lives together. It’s just so freaking beautiful. It’s a scene comparable to the one in Finding Nemo where we watch Marlin and his wife attacked by that barracuda, in the sense that it creates the emotional gravitas that holds the rest of the film together. When the slightest object is rattled in Carl’s house, we all hold our breath because we know just how important those things are to him. And when Carl finally opens the ‘Adventure Book’ towards the end of the film, we get a moment of emotional resolution that still gets me right in the feels over a decade later. The life we have is an adventure no matter the twists and turns, no matter the triumphs or tragedies we face. And as hard as it can be to leave an old page behind, we can’t forget that no adventure is really over as long as we’re still capable of loving another person. It’s moments like this when I’m reminded of the difference between a family film and a kid’s movie – or of the difference between animation and cartoons. When we look at movies like this from the lens of “I’m too old for this”, we not only rob ourselves but we imply that good and beautiful stories are something to grow out of. C. S. Lewis once said that “a children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story in the slightest”. Up isn’t just about the old and the young – it’s a story for the old and the young.
And by the way, I really thought I’d be sick of the running “squirrel” gag. I am not. I am definitely still up for it.