Pixar

Luca: Summer Loving, Glazed by the Past

Jeremy BeckReviews
A scene from Pixar's Luca

Luca is a shape-shifting sea monster, and Luca itself is something of a transformer. It is by turns (and sometimes all at once) a coming-of-age story, an underdog sports movie, an ode to canonical Italian cinema, and a heartfelt fable of tolerance. That it ably fulfills all of these roles without succumbing to chaos or incongruity is a testament to the dexterity of its storytelling and the fluidity of its construction. It doesn’t so much offer something for everyone as it provides everything for someones—namely, for those audiences who hunger for art that is simultaneously funny, kinetic, sweet, and affirming.

It is not—and with every new Pixar release, the conversation tends to focus on what it isn’t rather than what it is—terribly imaginative. Small in scale and gentle in heart, Luca lacks the bold ingenuity that has (ahem) animated some of the studio’s more impressive recent works: the metaphysical philosophizing of Soul, the existential angst of Toy Story 4, the triumphant razzle-dazzle of Incredibles 2, the anthropomorphized emotions of Inside Out. But not every Pixar picture can be expected to stretch or redefine an entire genre, and besides, lamenting Luca’s familiarity risks diminishing some of its considerable charm. Here is a playful, gorgeous, heart-warming adventure that tells its tender story with craft and conviction. That it occasionally resembles other movies seems a small price to pay. Read More

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Soul: It’s All About Goals. Or Is It?

Jeremy BeckReviews
Jamie Foxx in Pixar's "Soul"

There may not be a venue explicitly called Imagination Land in Pete Docter’s latest feature, but there’s still plenty of innovation and ingenuity. Soul, the new movie from the Pixar standout, is another triumph, an inspired mix of vibrant animation, rich storytelling, and powerful themes. It asks big, probing questions—about life and death, art and commerce, work and pleasure—while also making generous room for ticking-clock suspense and broad comedy. This is a sweeping metaphysical adventure tale, complete with fart jokes.

The signature achievement of Soul is its conception of the Great Before, a vast supernatural laboratory of sorts where human personalities are forged before birth. Advancements in technology have allowed animators to pack the frame with infinite minutiae, but Docter’s approach here is spare and restrained. The realm he’s conceived is gently pastoral, a luminous land of rolling hills, peaceful meadows, and placid lakes. The blue-and-purple color scheme is similarly serene, smoothly shifting between various hues of turquoise and lavender. And the world’s essential openness—its sense of being permanently incomplete—feels not like a failure of vision, but like a gift from creator to viewer. Some fictional environments are overwhelming in their detail. Docter lets you fill in the blanks. Read More

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Onward: Dwindling Magic, But What of Imagination?

Jeremy BeckReviews
Tom Holland and Chris Pratt voice brothers in Pixar's "Onward"

The world is gripped by existential despair, so what’s better to capture our collective terror than a Pixar movie? The wizardly corporation owns a patent on brightly colored, child-friendly entertainments that nevertheless speak to adults’ bone-deep fears. Of course, Onward, the newest adventure from the preeminent purveyor of computer-generated animation, isn’t about the coronavirus, no matter how tempted we might be to perceive everything through the lens of that horrifying pandemic. But it is about people—and a world—crippled with fear and self-doubt, struggling to adapt to unforeseen circumstances. That it’s also a playful children’s movie with a happy ending comes as something of a relief, even if it also currently feels like wishful thinking.

But enough about impending global catastrophe. Besides, there’s a more obvious metaphor to be found in Onward. At one point, its two brothers, Ian (voiced by Tom Holland) and Barley (Chris Pratt), squabble over navigation, disputing how best to reach their destination. Ian, the more pragmatic of the pair, insists on taking the freeway, a straight shot to their goal. Barley, a fantasist with either grand ideas or delusions of grandeur, instead suggests that they follow the Path of Peril, a twisting road fraught with danger and uncertainty. The freeway is of course the logical choice, but in Barley’s view, it is the eccentricity of the Path of Peril—its literal and figurative curves—that makes traveling it worthwhile. Read More

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Toy Story 4: Growing Old and Living Young, All Over Again

Jeremy BeckReviews
Woody, Bo Peep, and Duke Caboom in "Toy Story 4"

Toy Story 4 is a movie about fear, loneliness, pain, disillusionment, and loss. Your kids will love it.

You might too, if perhaps not quite as much as you adored its predecessors. It’s been 24 years since the computer wizards at Pixar released an 81-minute feature about playthings that leap to life when their owners leave the room, launching a mega brand and revolutionizing the concept of animation filmmaking in the process. Now the studio’s longest-running franchise (take that, Cars!), the Toy Story movies remain durable thanks to their nervy fusion of reliable adventure tropes and provocative philosophizing, the way they make you take stock of your life and yourself even as they place you back in touch with your inner child. In terms of raw entertainment, Toy Story 4 isn’t quite as boisterous as prior installments; the new director, Josh Cooley (one of the writers of the stupendous Inside Out), is certainly capable, but his set pieces lack the series’ trademark Rube Goldbergian complexity or eye-popping gusto. But the screenplay, by Andrew Stanton and Stephany Folsom, teems with ideas, challenges, and possibilities. The result is a movie that may not ascend beyond infinity, but at least gets most of the way there. Read More

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Incredibles 2: Still Super, After All These Years

Jeremy BeckReviews
The Parr family is back in "Incredibles 2"

Taking stock of a dramatic change in circumstances, a young boy early in Incredibles 2 poses a seemingly simple question: “Are things… bad?” Well, son, it depends on whom you ask. Like the best of Pixar’s movies, Incredibles 2 situates itself squarely on the boundary between the fantastical and the real, wielding an arsenal of artistic tools—bravura technique, sharp wit, limitless imagination—to supply meaningful commentary and poignant themes about everyday life. These days, characterizing everyday life as bad could be construed as a pitiful understatement. But while Incredibles 2 does not entirely ignore our current political environment—one enterprising character adopts the slogan, “Make Superheroes Legal Again”—its allegorical concerns are more universal, expanding on the original film’s thoughtful exploration of marriage and parenthood. And because it perpetuates the franchise’s familial odyssey with even greater verve and intelligence, things in this sequel are far from bad. In fact, things are very, very good.

Again written and directed by America’s animation laureate, Brad Bird, Incredibles 2 picks up immediately after its predecessor left off, with the Parr family—a clan of clandestine superheroes led by Mr. Incredible (voiced by Craig T. Nelson) and Elastigirl (Holly Hunter), more commonly known as Bob and Helen—attempting to halt the exploits of a silly baddie calling himself the Underminer. It’s a bit surprising that Bird refused to allow any fictional time to pass between the two installments (the first Incredibles, of course, was released 14 years ago), but it spares him the bother of exposition, allowing him to instead dive straight into some brawny superhero mayhem. The movie’s opening set piece is a rambunctious joyride through the city’s streets and sewers, with Bob frantically attempting to subdue the Underminer and inadvertently causing massive amounts of property damage in the process. Read More

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