Five stars. Rated G, and suitable for all ages
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.19.15
Sheer genius.
After stalling a bit in recent
years, Pixar has reclaimed its throne of brilliance, thanks to the impressively
imaginative Inside Out, one of the most entertaining and ingenious metaphors
ever brought to the big screen.
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| Joy, right, is horrified to discover that a mere touch from Sadness can transform a yellow sphere — representing a happy memory — into one of sorrow. What will this do to the long-term memories carefully stored within their host little girl's mind? |
Mind you, it’s not that Cars 2, Monsters University and Brave were bad films; far from it. But they were
disappointing nonetheless: the first two driven more by merchandising and less
by a heartfelt reason to continue their storylines, as was realized far better
by the Toy Story trilogy. More to the point, all three recent films lacked
the inspirational, outside-the-box snap, crackle and pop that has characterized
so many of Pixar’s efforts.
It’s their own fault, really: Set
the bar high, and fans arrive with expectations.
All of which are met, and then
some, by the wonderful Inside Out. By turns exhilarating, wildly euphoric and
poignant, this modern-day fairy tale offers perceptive insight into how (and
why) we deal with love, happiness, family ties, crushing disappointments and
all sorts of routine daily successes and failures, along with a rather droll
suggestion of what might be happening when our lives feel “out of balance.”
Director Pete Docter (Monsters,
Inc. and Up) concocted a strikingly savvy premise, then shaped it into a
thoroughly engaging script with co-writers Josh Cooley and Meg LeFauve. In a
way, it’s the Monsters, Inc. concept writ much larger: Instead of merely
establishing a reason for nightmares, Docter & Co. have built an entire
fantastical explanation for all human behavior.
In short, we’re governed by an
uneasy alliance between five key emotions — Joy, Fear, Anger, Sadness and
Disgust — which take turns operating
a complex control center within our minds. Too much of any one emotion
results in instability, manifested in the outer “real” world by bewildering (to
others) behavior.
But it’s much, much deeper than
that, as gradually revealed in the charming saga of Riley, whom we first meet as a gurgling infant born to her
delighted mother (voiced by Diane Lane) and father (Kyle MacLachlan). As she’s
delivered into the world, Riley’s mind receives its first emotion: Joy (Amy
Poehler), awestruck by what she sees “through” her infant host’s eyes.
Joy is further surprised by the
creation and immediate storage of the baby’s first memory, wrapped in a
protective, bowling ball-sized soft yellow sphere: the color of Joy herself.
But infant frustration quickly
follows, cueing the arrival of Anger (Lewis Black); he’s soon joined by Fear
(Bill Hader), Sadness (Phyllis Smith) and Disgust (Mindy Kaling). Over time, as
Riley (now voiced by Kaitlyn Dias) grows into a rambunctious adolescent —
encouraged to do so by her doting parents — her myriad memory spheres are
predominantly yellow ... because what is childhood, if not a period of great
joy?
But matters are destined to get
more complicated.
Following this prologue, which
deftly establishes both Riley’s idyllic life and the shared responsibilities of
her inner emotions, the story proper begins with the announcement that Riley
and her parents will be leaving their Minnesota home for San Francisco.
Although putting a brave face on
this forced relocation — with Joy scrambling to make sure Riley stays that way
— the move is a disaster. Their new home is a fading relic; the moving company
has misplaced their belongings; the undefined business deal that prompted this
journey westward has Riley’s dad in a frazzle; and — horror of horrors — the
nearby pizzeria serves only health-conscious, vegetable-covered slices.
“Congratulations, San Francisco,”
Anger snarls, in Riley’s head. “You’ve ruined pizza!”
(A sentiment with which I’ve long
agreed, just in passing.)
Meanwhile, matters have grown a
bit odd at the control center. Joy has discovered, to her consternation, that
Sadness seems able to “infect” Riley’s memories, turning their happy yellow
hues into a morose blue. Fearing the long-term result of this, particularly
with respect to the essential “core memories” that shape Riley’s personality,
Joy concocts ever-more-desperate schemes to keep Sadness at bay ... but the
latter simply cannot help her involvement.
Eventually, and catastrophically,
Joy and Sadness get sucked into the tube that takes all memories to long-term
storage. (The breathtaking creativity behind all these mental details just
keeps getting better.) With only Fear, Anger and Disgust at the helm, Riley’s equilibrium
crashes: a ghastly first day at her new school, an even less successful tryout
for the local ice hockey team — the sport she embraced, back in Minnesota —
and, worst of all, sullen misbehavior toward her parents.
The latter prompts our first
brief glimpse into the respective control centers within Riley’s parents’ minds
... and rarely has the Mars/Venus divide been characterized with such hilarious
wit.
Clearly, Joy and Sadness must get
back to the control center, in order to avert the escalating chaos mounted by
the impulsive Anger. But they’re lost in the labyrinthine corridors of Riley’s
mind, where a whole new set of worker-bees labor at various tasks. Some clear
out long-neglected memories deemed obsolete and therefore cast into a deep,
dark pit, where they dissolve and disappear (and you wonder why we recall so
little of our childhoods?); others stage-manage our nightly dreams with a film
studio’s crisp efficiency (insert some barbed digs at the whole movie-making
process); still others handle all sorts of colorfully bizarre tasks essential
for emotional stability.
This elaborate mental cornucopia
allows for all sorts of whimsical concepts and set-pieces, not to mention
little bits of business scattered hither and yon. It’s an extremely dynamic
visual template, and one that constantly generates food for thought.
Such as — citing a prominent
example — Joy and Sadness’ unexpected encounter with Bing Bong, Riley’s
somewhat dormant “imaginary friend,” voiced with a heart-tugging blend of goofy
cheerfulness and pathos by Richard Kind.
The visual style varies, as
necessary, between Riley’s real-world environment and the more fanciful
surroundings of her mental landscape. The animated San Francisco setting employs
earth tones to depict familiar streets, neighborhoods and buildings (including
the westbound I-80 onramp from Pixar’s Emeryville home). All will be quickly
recognized by anybody who has visited the area. The line work is “solid,” in
the sense of conveying real-world stability and authenticity.
Riley’s mental landscape, in
contrast, is a riot of bright colors and cluttered, amusement park-scale
excess. The impression is one of softness: a feeling emphasized by the five
Emotions, who have fuzzy skin texture and rag doll-esque hair, in hues that
reflect their personalities (i.e. green for Disgust, red for Anger, and so
forth). Their somewhat ethereal nature is augmented by a delicate, winsome
score from Pixar stalwart Michael Giacchino, a recent Academy Award winner for
his poignant work on Up.
The voice talent is terrific
throughout, with Poehler’s hyper-happy exuberance an often ironic counterpoint
to the increasingly troublesome plot bumps. Smith is note-perfect as the
morose, self-pitying Sadness, and Kaling delivers just the right smug
haughtiness as the condescending Disgust. Hader is all nerves and jitters as
Fear — and his animated avatar even suggests the actor’s rubber-band
physicality — while Black’s hair-trigger displays of temper are a riot.
All sorts of guest voices pop up,
sometimes only for a sentence or two; sharp-eared viewers might recognize Frank
Oz, Paula Poundstone, Laraine Newman, Rashida Jones, and (of course!) Pixar
stalwart John Ratzenberger, continuing his uninterrupted streak of appearances
in every feature film made by the studio.
Much of this film’s charm derives
from its cunning plot twists and perceptive takes on psychology, so I’ll not
spoil any of those surprises. But I do think I’ve sussed out why Joy and
Sadness share the same hair color, which initially struck me as unusual. I
should have known better: Everything in this story — every detail of these
various characters — exists for a reason.
Such beguiling narrative
“density” has been absent from Pixar’s oeuvre since Toy Story 3 and Up.”
High marks to Docter: not just for his collaborative script work, but also —
with an assist from co-director Ronaldo Del Carmen and editor Kevin Nolting —
for pulling it all together with such engaging snap.
All that said, I suspect this
film will play better for adults and older children; the colorful environments
notwithstanding, youngsters likely won’t make head or tails of the story’s deep
psychological and emotional complexities.
One sidebar comment: As most
folks know by now, all Pixar features are preceded by an animated short subject.
Sadly though, and for the very first time with a Pixar short, I was completely
unimpressed by director James Ford Murphy’s Lava. It’s undeniably beautiful
to look at, but the storyline and story presentation — as a Hawaiian-esque
ballad — simply don’t work. I guess anthropomorphizing volcanoes was a harder
task than the puffy stars of 2009’s Partly Cloudy.
Which has nothing to do with Inside Out, of course. Docter & Co. have produced another animated
masterpiece, which I expect to have a long and happy afterlife — likely for
generations to come — in everybody’s home library.
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