Every girl and every boy
Has Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Joy
(Disgust as well) within their minds
To guide them through their days.
They form and file memories,
And inside Riley, all of these
Are touched by Joy, who always finds
The silver lining’s rays.

Though Joy insists on keeping her
As happy as they always were,
A touch of Sadness now in spots
May not be such a shame.
When Riley moves against her will,
And Sadness starts her off downhill,
The world of Riley’s inner thoughts
Will never be the same.
_____________________
While other people have been eagerly awaiting adult fare like Jurassic World, Mad Max: Fury Road, and Batman vs. Superman, I’ve been looking forward to Inside Out, hoping that it would be a return to the Pixar excellence to which moviegoers had become accustomed. I’m happy to say, it is. I’m trying to not let other critics’ positive reviews color my opinion, but I really am thrilled that Pixar has bounced back from the good-not-great status of Brave and the disappointment of Cars 2.

A movie about personified emotions in the control center of the mind—as original as it sounds, there have been similar concepts before, like the nearly forgotten ‘90s sitcom Herman’s Head, but whereas such ideas are usually reserved for comedy, Inside Out delves deeper, putting the emotion in emotional. Within the head of 12-year-old Riley Anderson, all her emotions work together most of the time—Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Anger (Lewis Black), Disgust (Mindy Kaling), and Fear (Bill Hader, in full Flint Lockwood mode)—and everyone but Sadness has a clearly defined role to play in guiding Riley’s actions. While this cast could have been one-note, epitomizing singular, often negative feelings, they all contribute to Riley’s personality and work well as characters due to their concern for her overall well-being (despite some poor decisions), not to mention the wisely chosen voice cast (many of which hail from Saturday Night Live or The Office).

While Riley’s external world involves a tempestuous move from Minnesota to San Francisco, her inner world endures even more distressing changes, worsened by the separation of leader Joy and downer Sadness from their psychological Headquarters. Having included too many spoilers in my past reviews, I want to tread lightly with this one and leave the film’s full impact for the fresh viewer. Suffice to say, Inside Out is a journey through the psyche that casual viewers can enjoy on the surface and analysts can pick apart to find ever more engaging layers of nuance and symbolism underneath.

When I first heard the film’s concept, I was a bit perplexed by the choice of five emotions because not every experience or feeling is so clear-cut. Yet children’s emotions are far simpler and more distinct than those of adults; the filmmakers know this well and use this very fact as the driving conflict in the film (there is no villain), since Riley is in the formative years of young adulthood. What is the cause of children suddenly needing “alone time” or deriving more frustration than enjoyment from past pleasures? How would mood swings, depression, dreams, or sarcasm be visualized in this uniquely Pixar mindscape? The film’s explanations for questions like these are eye-opening, as is the role of multiple emotions in shaping our deepest memories and impressions, yet much of it is metaphorical, implicit, and never heavy-handed in its interpretation. Here’s an example of one of the many questions prompted by the film’s themes: While certain crises seem cataclysmic at the time, perhaps these tragedies are merely an inevitable step toward maturity, though they’re no less regrettable. You’ll understand when you see it.

Compared with Pixar’s other classics, Inside Out can hold its ground with favorites like Ratatouille, Up, and Monsters, Inc. (the latter two also directed by Pete Docter), and even if the film doesn’t quite reach the heights of The Incredibles or Finding Nemo, it has the potential to grow in stature with further viewing. I already love it more now than right after I saw it. The animation is a modern marvel, such as the energy-infused substance of the emotions’ bodies and the orb-filled labyrinth of Long-Term Memory. One random danger in particular seemed like an excuse for the animators to indulge in some visual fun, despite the fact that no kid will understand its cerebral implications. (I’m not sure I do.) Inside Out may not be Pixar’s funniest adventure, but there are still quite a few laugh-out-loud moments and imaginative silliness, such as a few unexpected movie references and the way that seemingly random gags come together ingeniously during the climax. It’s a stunning balance of humor, head, and heart.

As many critics have stated, there’s also a good deal of poignancy, particularly for parents recalling their children’s childhoods. While I don’t fit that category, I admire the presence of a close nuclear family and was still touched deeply by a certain selfless act toward the end. I have a long and storied history of crying at animated movies, from Tarzan to Brother Bear, but few films can extract a tear from me anymore. Inside Out did, and that made it a special experience for me. After watching the film, I was left with the pensive, bittersweet glow of a film worth seeing many more times. My Joy and Sadness must have been holding hands. Thank you, Pixar. It’s good to have you back in force.

Best line: (Fear) “We didn’t die today; I call that an unqualified success!”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2015 S. G. Liput
323 Followers and Counting

(Spoilers ahead)

 

In Andy’s bedroom, where imaginings thrive,

When he’s not around, all his toys come alive.

Potato Head, Slinky, Bo Peep, Hamm, and Rex

Are always afraid of what toy he’ll get next,

But cowboy doll Woody insists that they stay

Collected and calm on their owner’s birthday.

 

When Andy arrives with his new Buzz Lightyear,

The other toys welcome their space ranger peer,

But Buzz doesn’t know he’s a child’s plaything,

And Woody’s annoyed by his self-deluding.

As Andy snubs Woody in favor of Buzz,

The cowboy grows bitter with thoughts of what was.

 

A misunderstanding at terrible cost

Leaves Woody and Buzz isolated and lost,

And soon they are caught by the sick neighbor kid,

The evil, sadistic, toy-torturing Sid.

As Andy is wondering where his toys are,

Both Woody and Buzz meet with mutants bizarre.

 

When Buzz at last realizes he is a toy,

It’s Woody who cheers him to strive for their boy.

A frightening warning puts Sid on the run,

But now they must rush; Andy’s move has begun.

Some chasing and launching and falling with style

Bring both to their kid, and to Andy a smile.

_________________

 

As Cowboy Camp beckons, there’s sudden alarm

When ol’ Woody suffers a rip in the arm.

A rescue attempt for a playmate in need

Lets Woody fall victim to one villain’s greed.

A nasty collector abducts the old doll,

Who enters a world that he knew not at all.

 

He meets Jessie, Bullseye, and old Stinky Pete,

Who welcome him since he makes their set complete.

He sees he is famous and rare merchandise

And soon to be sold in Japan at great price.

Though Woody insists at first he must return,

He changes his mind out of care and concern.

 

Meanwhile, his friends from the bedroom are out

To rescue him, taking a dangerous route.

Despite some setbacks and a Buzz Lightyear clone,

They locate the cowboy to take him back home.

While Woody is torn on the choice of his fate,

True colors are shown until it is too late.

 

The toys are packed up by the covetous man

And head to the airport, en route to Japan.

Deciding that Andy will value them all,

They swing from the plane with a very close call.

The toys journey home for fun playdates anew,

Until Andy grows up, as all children do.

_________________

 

The time has arrived: Andy’s finally grown,

Less likely to play than to chat on his phone.

Though toys have diminished in number and note,

They wait for their owner, however remote.

Some misunderstandings, which happen a lot,

Leave most of them feeling unloved and distraught.

 

They donate themselves to a nearby day care,

Where there reigns a strawberry-scented stuffed bear.

This Lotso presents them to quaint Sunnyside,

But playtime is brutal for those who don’t hide.

Though Woody escapes to go home, he is found

By Bonnie, whose penchant for play is profound.

 

The other toys learn Sunnyside is unfair

For new toys and those that don’t please the big bear.

When Buzz is brainwashed to imprison his friends,

They follow the plan Woody then recommends.

The prison break seems to go just as they planned,

But Lotso arrives when escape’s close at hand.

 

The tables are turned with a trip to the dump,

Where deus ex machina saves in a slump.

Though Woody would gladly be Andy’s forever,

He hints at the best way for their ties to sever.

The toys find themselves in a new home to dwell

After one last playdate and a poignant farewell.

_______________________

 

The first computer-generated feature film could have been any number of lackluster productions, but as luck would have it, the pioneering feat was accomplished by the most skilled storytellers in the animation business, the folks at Pixar. Toy Story was an intrinsic part of my childhood; with the exception of Hamm, Jessie, and Bullseye, I owned all of the main characters. Woody and Buzz Lightyear are among the most beloved animated characters ever created, and they were introduced at the perfect time in my youth for me to become attached to them as more than just throwaway kiddie entertainment.

The first Toy Story may look dated in its animation compared with Pixar’s more recent endeavors, but even if the humans are lacking, the CGI is ideal for the plastic residents of Andy’s room. With the unique look at suburbia from a toy’s perspective, it was the first glimpse of the immense imagination at work at Pixar, able to introduce an ensemble of characters and make everyone both lovable in their own way and wisely merchandisable. Almost everybody has owned a toy and can thus appreciate the characters’ obvious desire to be loved and valued by their owner. While this connection to the heart allows these inanimate objects to become as real as any animated human or talking animal, the sly humor keeps the entertainment value at a 10, thanks largely to the sterling voice cast. Tom Hanks and Tim Allen were in their heyday in 1995, fresh from dual Oscar wins for Hanks and the success of “Home Improvement” and The Santa Clause for Allen, but, unlike some more recent celebrity voiceovers, both were undoubtedly the best choice. Their progression from rivals to buddies is both hilarious and convincing, supplemented by a host of golden supporting characters, like Wallace Shawn’s timid Rex, John Ratzenberger’s clever Hamm, and Don Rickles’ belligerent Mr. Potato Head. The film won a special Academy Award, predating the creation of the Best Animated Feature Oscar by six years.

As perfect as the original film is, Toy Story 2 is even better. The first film took its core concept (that toys come to life when we’re not looking) and ran with it, giving them real emotions of affection, envy, betrayal, and dejection; the sequel further explores the expansive possibilities of toydom: being broken, being forgotten and abandoned, being just one of countless doppelgangers, being valued as a collectible rather than a child’s plaything. The imagination keeps coming, with greater danger, more memorable characters (Joan Cusack’s Jessie, Kelsey Grammer’s Stinky Pete), and some unexpected laugh-out-loud references to Jurassic Park and Star Wars. Jessie’s backstory, in particular, still wets my eyes and instilled in me what I call “toy guilt,” a reluctance to give up old toys for fear of traumatizing them (I’ve since gotten over it, mostly). The fact that the film was essentially a rush job due to over-optimistic scheduling makes its achievement even more impressive. Since I consider it the best of the trilogy, it’s a shame it’s the only one that didn’t win an Oscar.

I was skeptical about Toy Story 3, a sequel released a full decade after its predecessor, but it delivered the Pixar goods against all odds. While it’s not quite on par with the first two, the improved animation is worlds away and the same unbridled imagination is at work in the creation of a prison camp day care ruled by a plush bear (a grandfatherly Ned Beatty). The film supposedly introduces at least 150 new characters, and I believe it; from the teeming playroom at Sunnyside, full of under-utilized voice talent, to Bonnie’s room (including a Totoro, courtesy of John Lasseter’s fascination with Miyazaki), the new faces are abundant and diverse, though not all quite as memorable. The film’s heart and action are plentiful, though the humor isn’t quite as generous (I didn’t find Buzz’s Spanish mode as funny as the filmmakers seemed to think it is). This threequel is a source of some contention between my VC and me. She was rather depressed at the loveless situation at the beginning and was left unsatisfied with Andy giving up his toys in the end, feeling that they should have awaited his children in the attic, like my Buzz and Woody currently are. Yet deep down, I think Andy knew that toys are meant to be played with, and children are their core happiness. As mentioned in Corinthians, he “put away childish things,” but not with the cold indifference of Emily in Toy Story 2; he took the time and effort to give them a fitting home and one last playtime to bid them goodbye. This was also important because he was able to pass on their names to Bonnie; without knowing the titles of Woody and Buzz, she might have called them Mrs. Nesbitt or some such moniker. As frighteningly dramatic as the dump sequence is, the final scenes are equally bittersweet, a near-perfect tear-inducing conclusion for these beloved characters. As much faith as I have in the creative minds at Pixar, I almost wish they would leave Toy Story 4 alone and avoid the potential stumble of fourth movies, which are even harder to pull off than threequels, as evidenced by the Pirates and Indiana Jones series.

Rotten Tomatoes indicates that the Toy Story films form the most acclaimed trilogy ever, with 100% for the first and second and a 99% for the third. I’ve enjoyed every one, as well as Buzz’s spinoff TV series Buzz Lightyear of Star Command, a fun and imaginative sci-fi show from my youth. Though I’ve grown up parallel to Andy and outgrown my own childhood companions, at least I’ll never outgrow these beloved toy stories.

Best line from Toy Story: (Woody) “YOU ARE A TOY! You aren’t the real Buzz Lightyear! You’re – you’re an action figure! You are a child’s plaything!”   (Buzz) “You are a sad, strange little man, and you have my pity. Farewell.”

 

Best line from Toy Story 2: (2^nd Buzz, to Zurg) “I’ll never give in. You killed my father.”   (Zurg) “No, Buzz, I am your father.”   (2^nd Buzz) “Noooooooo!”   (a great line in any movie)

 

Best line from Toy Story 3: (Jessie) “Woody, we were wrong to leave Andy. I—I was wrong….”   (Mr. Potato Head) “Jessie’s right, Woody. She was wrong.”

 

 

Rank: 60 out of 60

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

283 Followers and Counting

Remy’s a rat with a keen sense of smell,

Who loves not just eating but cooking as well.

His wish to create, though, attracts a backlash

From Django, his dad, who just wants to steal trash.

 

Their colony’s forced to abruptly take leave,

And Remy is lost in the sewers to grieve.

The voice of his hero, the late chef Gusteau,

Encourages Remy to rise from below.

 

He climbs to find Paris, the City of Lights,

And finds Gusteau’s restaurant, which thrills and excites.

When Remy tries fixing a soup in the kitchen,

He’s captured and threatened for trying to pitch in.

 

However, he’s freed by the awkward Linguini,

A garbage boy who couldn’t boil fettuccine.

He teams with the rat, who can pull on his hair

And cook from beneath the tall hat that chefs wear.

 

Though Skinner, the head chef, is sure there’s a rat

When some garbage boy begins cooking like that,

He can’t stop Linguini from gaining acclaim

And lifting Gusteau’s from its relative shame.

 

Linguini must face expectations concerned

And deal with celebrity he hasn’t earned,

While Remy must choose between kitchen and kin

And unearths a secret, to Skinner’s chagrin.

 

At last, when a critic named Ego arrives

To taste if Gusteau’s reputation survives,

The dish ratatouille reminds of his youth,

An odd revelation of taste and the truth.

 

Though Ego’s review is a tip of the hat,

Some people just can’t handle food from a rat,

But those who will open their mouths and their minds

Are thrilled by the flavors their tolerance finds.

_________________

 

Yet another Pixar masterpiece, Ratatouille is a film that could have so easily been a ridiculous failure with its absurd concept and rambling narrative, yet Brad Bird did it again, lending outstanding character development to Pixar’s ever-phenomenal animation.

Patton Oswalt will forever be Remy to me. (I know his real voice sounds exactly the same, having seen him on “Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”) As foolhardy as Remy’s dream seems, his vehement arguments with his dad and genuine talent for the culinary arts manifest a passion worth pursuing. Lou Romano is lovably incompetent as Alfredo Linguini (not the other way around), whom Remy uses as a living marionette. True, this is unrealistic, even for a film about talking rat chefs, but it leads to some of the funniest moments, as Remy perfects his follicular puppetry. The rest of the voice actors contribute exuberant performances, obviously enjoying their French accents, including Ian Holm as Chef Skinner, Janeane Garofalo as Colette, and Brad Garrett as Remy’s hero and imagined conscience Chef Gusteau. Plus, Peter O’Toole’s scathing articulations make Anton Ego a truly forbidding presence, albeit with an unforeseen soft side.

The animation is exceptional, one of Pixar’s most detailed depictions of the real world from the perspective of rat and human alike. My VC enjoys pointing out Remy’s adorable feet and sniffing nose, which make him considerably cuter than any rat I’ve seen. Textures and lighting are meticulously rendered, from the rushing water of the sewers to the distant, warm lights of the Eiffel Tower to the food itself, which is as delectable to the eye as to the characters’ taste buds. The atmosphere of Paris is further brought to life by the romantic score from Michael Giacchino. (Lost alert; in addition to scoring Pixar films like this, The Incredibles, and Up, Giacchino has also worked with J.J. Abrams on the Star Trek reboots and Lost.)

In addition to being laugh-out-loud with lethal thumbs and an abundance of slapstick humor, Ratatouille tackles some heavy material as well, including the morality of benign thievery, the expectations of parent and child, and the purpose and responsibility of criticism. Ego’s review, in particular, flew over my head upon my first viewing, but its profound message is a credit to the entire creative and analytical industry. Ratatouille also dares into less kiddy subject matter, such as legal scams, drunken interrogations, a character’s illegitimate child, and the realistic ramifications of a rat in the kitchen (which the film then ignores for the final gratifying scene).

Attempting much more than most animated films and succeeding in every area, Ratatouille is a film that can entertain both children and their parents on different levels. Heart-warming, funny, and appetizing, it was yet another feather in Pixar’s cap.

Best line: (Gusteau) “You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul. What I say is true—anyone can cook… but only the fearless can be great.”

 

Rank: 58 out of 60

 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

267 Followers and Counting