Elio: Out of this world

Elio (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for animated action peril

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.29.25

Pixar still has the touch.

 

Although this wildly imaginative sci-fi fable is one of the animation studio’s goofiest, the story nonetheless is fueled by the essential element common to all of the best Pixar films: relatable human angst. Within minutes, our hearts ache for the title character (voiced by Yonas Kibreab): a lonely little boy still mourning the unexpected loss of his parents.

 

Since Elio is believed to be the official ambassador from the planet Earth, he's formally
introduced to all the dignitaries in the celestial Communiverse.

Pixar animators excel at conveying emotion, via the slump-shouldered set of the boy’s body, his doleful gaze and mournful expression. He’s lonely ... achingly lonely.

And, like any adolescent under such circumstances, he acts out: much to the consternation of his Aunt Olga (Zoe Saldaña), in whose care the boy has been placed. A brilliant Air Force major who has put her career partially on hold, she hasn’t any clue about how to handle her rebellious nephew.

 

His head literally is in the stars. Convinced that he can’t possibly fit into his current environment, the space-obsessed boy repeatedly tries to make contact with extra-terrestrials, hoping that he can be “abducted by aliens” to a happier, more magical place. He comes by this fixation honestly; Olga is stationed at California’s coastal Montez Air Force Base, where she and her team monitor satellite and orbiting debris activity.

 

The story’s first quick-cut comedy shot — of Elio lying on a beach, surrounded by an abduction plea scooped in the sand — is hilarious.

 

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the boy, in a galaxy far, far away ...

 

... various planetary dignitaries belonging to the benevolent Communiverse have long studied our Voyager 1 spacecraft, launched back in 1977 with its “golden record” that showcases Earth’s diversity via greetings, sounds and images. (Yep, there’s real science at the root of this saga.) They’re therefore primed when, through luck and happenstance, they intercept one of Elio’s ham radio messages.

 

And — poof! — he’s beamed light-years away, to the Communiverse.

 

Thanks to Ooooo (Shirley Henderson) — a liquid supercomputer that accommodates and assists species of all kinds who visit — and an amazing Universal User’s Manual, Elio is able to communicate with the strangest and most colorful assortment of aliens ever to grace the silver screen. 

 

Their primary spokespeople are Ambassador Questa (Jameela Jamil), a 15-foot-tall leafy pink sea dragon who hails from the planet Gom; and Ambassador Helix (Brandon Moon), a purplish blob with prominent eyebrows, who hails from the planet Falluvinum.

 

They assume that Elio is Earth’s official ambassador, a belief the quick-witted boy chooses not to correct. (Goodness, no; he’s having too much fun!)

Inside Out 2: A wild emotional rollercoaster

Inside Out 2 (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for no particular reason

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.16.24

Nobody could have expected this film to live up to its brilliant 2015 predecessor, which earned a well-deserved Oscar nomination for its ingenious script.

 

While Joy (yellow), Disgust (green) and Anger (red) watch with horror, Envy (turquoise)
and Anxiety (orange) seize control of their beloved Riley's behavior, with disastrous results.

But this sequel comes darn close, thanks to an equally clever narrative touch that establishes a solid reason to revisit these characters.

Recall, from the first film, that young Riley’s life was upended when her parents (voiced by Diane Lane and Kyle MacLachlan) moved them from the Midwest to San Francisco. This shattering adjustment taxed the skills of the emotional avatars in Riley’s noggin, who collaborate to keep her every thought and action (somewhat) under control: Joy (Amy Poehler), Anger (Lewis Black), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Fear (Tony Hale, taking over here for Bill Hader) and Disgust (Liza Lapira, similarly replacing Mindy Kaling).

 

Several years have passed, and Riley (Kensington Tallman) has become a well-adjusted middle-schooler: intelligent, kind-hearted, generous and blessed with a pair of inseparable besties: Grace (Grace Lu) and Bree (Sumayyah Nuriddin-Green). They do everything together; they’re also members of the school hockey team, where Riley is a shining star who — as the academic year concludes — has attracted the attention of talent scout Coach Roberts (Yvette Nicole Brown).

 

It has been smooth sailing for the emotions, and Joy — their de facto leader — is delighted by the way they’ve molded Riley into a “good person” via careful manipulation of their complex control panel.

 

Even so, the first hint of trouble concerns the means by which Joy has brought everyone to this happy moment: a classic case of good intentions destined to go awry.

 

But that comes later. Far more seriously, these five emotions are aroused one night from their slumber — Riley being similarly asleep — by the relentless soft beep-beep of a previously unnoticed red monitor light ... which suddenly erupts into a shrieking klaxon.

 

As it happens, Riley had just celebrated her 13th birthday. And that red button?

 

Puberty.

Elemental: Burns brightly

Elemental (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for no particular reason

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.16.23

Pixar’s new fantasy is just as sneakily subversive as 2015’s Inside Out.

 

I continue to be impressed by the way the animation studio’s writers — in this case, Peter Sohn, John Hoberg, Kat Likkel and Brenda Hsueh — work so much real-world relevance into their wildly imaginative stories. On top of which, the strong note of “working hard to get along” is sorely needed these days.

 

While watery Wade looks on happily, fiery Ember does her best to handle his mother
Brook's effusive greeting.

Ember Lumen (voiced by Leah Lewis) is a second-generation transplant to the metropolis of Element City, a realm of Fire-, Water-, Air- and Earth-residents. Her parents — Bernie (Ronnie Del Carmen) and Cinder (Shila Ommi) — left their native Fireland decades ago, in order to grant their daughter a better life. They arrived with little more than a blue flame representing their heritage, and worked hard to turn their new shop, Fireplace, into a popular success.

Bernie is nearing retirement age, and has long promised that Ember will inherit the family business. Unfortunately, the impatient and (ahem) hot-headed young woman has an explosive temper that isn’t conducive to customer interactions.

 

Some structural mishaps bring their shop to the attention of city inspector Wade Ripple (Mamoudou Athie), a Water guy who takes his job seriously. That said, such responsibilities frequently conflict with his compassionate nature; issuing tickets often makes him burst into tears.

 

(“He’s the type of character that’ll cry at a diaper commercial,” notes director Peter Sohn.)

 

Circumstances — and a citywide mystery — force Ember and Wade together, despite the danger that they pose to each other. And while their slowly developing relationship mirrors countless romantic comedies that begin with an oil-and-vinegar couple, the writers here have far more on their minds.

 

Wade is as laid back and gentle as Ember is uptight and passionate. But Wade also is a perceptive listener: a “mirror character” who allows Ember to see herself better. This is crucial, because she has long suppressed a talented artistic side. Truth be told, she doesn’t really want to take over the family business … but she also doesn’t want to disrespect her old-school parents.

 

What’s a loving daughter to do?

 

Yep, we once again have the push/pull that finds a young adult caught between personal ambition — a desire to blaze one’s own trail — and parental expectations. This is handled poignantly, and with gentle good humor; the same is true of the parallel narrative that finds Ember and Wade struggling to look beyond their (blatantly obvious) surface differences, to forge a bond.

 

Lightyear: Not quite a shooting star

Lightyear (2022) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theater

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.17.22

The opening text screen is quite clever:

 

In 1995, Andy got a Buzz Lightyear action figure after seeing his favorite movie.

 

This is that movie.

 

Things seem calm at the moment, but that's deceptive; Buzz, far right, and his new
companions — from left, Izzy, SOX the cat, Mo and Darby — are about to encounter
another bunch of Zurg's malevolent robots.

This explanation thus out of the way, director/co-scripter Angus MacLane — assisted by writers Matthew Aldrich and Jason Headley — plunge pell-mell into an exciting and suspenseful blend of every sci-fi franchise from Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon, to Star Trek, Star Wars and even a touch of 2001: A Space Odyssey.

To infinity and beyond, indeed.

 

That said, this definitely is a case where action and momentum cover an increasing number of plot holes and unanswered questions. Considerable care is required, when concocting stories that involve time travel and alternate time streams; let’s just say things get a bit sloppy.

 

But that comes later.

 

The story begins quietly, as a massive spherical S.C.0.1 exploration vessel — dubbed “the Turnip” — heads home via automatic pilot, its 1,000-strong complement of crew, scientists and technicians in cryo-sleep during the lengthy journey. Roughly 4.2 million light-years from Earth, sensors detect T’Kani Prime, an uncharted but potentially resource-rich planet.

 

The ship wakens Space Ranger Buzz Lightyear (voiced by Chris Evans, taking over from Tim Allen), commander Alisha Hawthorne (Uzo Aduba) and a rookie named Featheringhamstan (Bill Hader). They land the Turnip; Buzz and his companions reconnoiter and quickly discover that this swampy world is laden with giant swarming bugs and subterranean vines that burst through the surface, latch onto anything foreign, and drag it below ground.

 

Anything … including the Turnip.

 

Buzz, Alisha and the rookie battle bugs and vines during their frantic dash back to the Turnip. They board; Buzz takes the helm, and tries to defy physics in a heroic effort to get the massive ship free of the vines, and off this inhospitable planet.

 

He fails.

 

Worse yet, the resulting crash destroys one of the Turnip’s fuel cells and its essential hyperspeed crystal, without which the journey home cannot be made. The entire crew settles in for a long stay on T’Kani Prime, as it’ll take years to fabricate a replacement fuel cell and crystal that’ll hold up to a test flight.

 

(It seems unlikely that all of these folks would cheerfully forgive Buzz for the error in judgment that has stranded them, but that’s something we cannot dwell upon.)

 

(One also wonders how the Turnip could possibly have contained enough raw materials and infrastructure to construct the mini-city that soon houses all of these folks, but that’s something else we cannot dwell upon.)

 

Turning Red: Clever depiction of teenage crisis

Turning Red (2022) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for mild intensity

Available via: Disney+

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.11.22

The folks at Pixar love to tackle big topics, and they do so with humor, perceptive wit and clever storytelling.

 

Having poofed into a giant red panda at precisely the wrong moment, Mei (the panda)
waits anxiously to see how her friends — from left, Abby, Miriam and Priya — will
react to this admittedly unusual development.

They gave us an ingenious explanation of human emotions, in 2015’s Inside Out, and an equally astute depiction of human purpose, in 2020’s Soul. Both garnered well-deserved Academy Awards.

Pixar now has embraced an even greater challenge:

 

Female puberty.

 

The boldly inspired result — directed by Domee Shi, from an original script by Shi and Julia Cho — is both a remarkably apt metaphor, and an absolutely hilarious depiction of one young girl’s maturity crisis.

 

(As a superb example of the way Pixar nurtures talent, Shi earned this feature film assignment after winning an Oscar for her 2018 short, Bao.)

 

The setting is Toronto, in the early 2000s. Thirteen-year-old Meilin “Mei” Lee (voiced by Rosalie Chiang) is an exuberant, mildly dorky, over-achieving force of nature who proudly excels at school. She’d likely be exasperating, except that her potentially patronizing edges are softened by her loyal posse: Miriam (Ava Morse), Priya (Maitreyi Ramakrishnan) and Abby (Hyein Park).

 

Mei also is a model daughter at home, cheerfully helping her mother Ming (Sandra Oh) tend to the ancestral family temple, in Toronto’s Chinatown.

 

Everything is regimented into a familiar and carefully controlled routine. As Mei giddily tells us, at the top of this film — mildly breaking the fourth wall — “This is gonna be the best year ever, and nothing’s gonna get in my way.”

 

Wishful thinking.

 

Like the flip of a switch, Mei suddenly becomes obsessed with the hunky guys in 4*Town, the hottest, coolest band of all time (which, defying its name, has five members). Her three besties share this passion, and their out-of-control enthusiasm turns them into giddily shrieking fangirls.

 

As a result — in a whimsical nod to Kafka’s Metamorphosis — Mei wakens one morning in the form of a an eight-foot-tall, bright red panda. Unable to control this new body, she becomes inadvertently destructive, messy and smelly. (Sound like any teenagers you know?)

Luca: Fish out of water

Luca (2021) • View trailer

3.5 stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason

Available via: Disney+

By Derrick Bang

To paraphrase a line from George Orwell’s Animal Farm, all Pixar films are excellent, but some are less excellent than others.

 

Having narrowly avoided being spotted by residents of the nearby coastal community,
Alberto, left, and Luca contemplate the best way to resume their land-based human forms.

The animation — always visually dazzling — never is at fault, but some scripts fall far short of the creatively thoughtful brilliance found in (for example) Inside Out and Soul. The Good Dinosaur simply didn’t work; neither did Brave or the Cars sequels (the latter fueled more by merchandising desires, than artistic merit).

Luca is similarly disappointing.

 

Director Enrico Casarosa and his three co-scripters try hard to blend two disparate plot elements, but they never align successfully. And while the story ultimately offers a welcome message on the subject of inclusiveness, that feels like an afterthought.

 

It’s also impossible to ignore the strong echo of The Little Mermaid, which adds an unsatisfying note of been there/done that.

 

The story, taking place in the late 1950s or early ’60s, opens in the ocean, not far from the small Italian seaside town of Portorosso. This underwater setting is home to its own community of “sea monsters,” notably a family unit comprising teenage Luca Paguro (voiced by Jacob Tremblay), his parents Daniela and Lorenzo (Maya Rudolph and Jim Gaffigan), and his elderly, gravel-voiced grandmother (Sandy Martin).

 

These “monsters” — despite their spines, sharp tails and webbing — are much too cute to be the slightest bit scary. The animation team based them vaguely on medieval illustrations from the Carta Marina — a Renaissance map dating back to 1539 — while granting them iridescence, gorgeous colors and oversized, animé-style eyes.

 

In a droll touch, Luca works as a “shepherd,” keeping watch over a school of small fish that bleat like sheep. As with actual sheep, some are prone to wander; Luca’s efforts to keep them in line are quite amusing.

 

We may think Luca and his family are adorable and obviously friendly, but Portorosso’s residents live in abject terror, as if these creatures have been destroying boats and eating small children for centuries. (This clearly isn’t the case, making such panic seem rather odd.)

Soul: It has serious chops!

Soul (2020) • View trailer

Five stars. Rated PG, for mild thematic elements

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.31.20

This isn’t the first time I’ve observed that some of the sharpest, wittiest and most perceptive scripts belong to animated films.

 

An impressive percentage of them come from Pixar.

 

Joe Gardner's soul, right, tirelessly tries to find something that might inspire the cynical,
world-weary — and yet oddly childlike — Soul 22.

Pete Docter has been one of Hollywood’s most innovative writer/directors for well over a decade; he’s also one of the most savvy collaborators. Although he shared scripting credits on WALL•E, Up and Inside Out, all three possess an inventive point of view — a shrewd analysis of the human condition — that bespeaks Docter’s guiding influence.

 

This is even more obvious, given that he directed — and won well-deserved Academy Awards — for the latter two.

 

I figured Inside Out would remain his career masterpiece. I should’ve known better.

 

Soul — directed and co-written by Docter, with scripting assistance from Mike Jones and Kemp Powers — is another animated tour de force that ingeniously blends humor, pathos and social commentary with a wildly imaginative take on what makes us who we are.

 

Whereas Inside Out cheekily proposed how our workaday behavior varies according to the influence of (primarily) joy, sadness, fear and anger, Soul — available (ahem) solely via Disney+ — offers a fascinating theory for how our personalities are shaped, and the unalterable degree to which that influences who and what we become.

 

But the film doesn’t initially seem that way, and that’s another clever touch: An equally strong secondary story beats at its heart.

 

Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx), a gifted pianist with wicked jazz chops, has tirelessly gigged in an effort to get the one big break that might ignite a career. He’s a constant disappointment to his mother (Libba Gardner), who wishes he’d abandon such dreams and be content as a middle-school music teacher … particularly since he’s just been offered full-time employment.

 

Ah, but Joe lucks into an audition for world-renowned sax legend Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett) … and nails it. She makes him a member of her quartet, currently headlining at the Half Note (the absolute epitome, as visualized, of an intimate New York basement jazz club).

 

Giddy with delight, oblivious to his surroundings, Joe has an accident … and winds up — now a much smaller, ghostlike presence that represents his soul — on a moving sidewalk leading heavenward into The Great Beyond.

 

(This whiplash assault on our emotions and expectations — giddy with joy, sharing Joe’s success, to sudden whattheheck??? — is typical of Docter’s films.)

Onward: Bumpy journey

Onward (2020) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG, for fantasy peril
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.6.20

Despite the traditional Pixar gloss — their films always look spectacular — Onward

is oddly dissatisfying.

Even though the clock is ticking, Barley, left, and Ian enjoy an unexpected moment of
levity with their partly resurrected father.

Director Dan Scanlon moves things along at an engaging pace, with a savvy blend of drama and humor; the voice talent brings agreeable emotional weight to a plot that focuses on the importance of family bonds.

But the story itself — by Scanlon, Jason Headley and Keith Bunin — is something of a mess. More critically, it’s not the slightest bit innovative.

The best Pixar films — Monsters, Inc., The Incredibles, Ratatouille, WALL-E and Inside Out leap to mind — are built from audaciously clever concepts and unique twists: deviously fresh ways of employing unusual characters to impart gentle lessons about the human condition. Onward, alas, merely mimics existing pop culture, rather than forging its own path.

The elements are not only overly familiar; they’re also assembled clumsily. Nothing new here … and, coming from Pixar, that’s disappointing.

Elf Ian Lightfoot (voiced wistfully by Tom "Spider-Man" Holland) lives in an outlying suburban neighborhood of New Mushroomton: populated by sprites, centaurs, gnomes, satyrs, trolls, pixies, unicorns and all manner of creatures from mythology, folklore, fables and fantasy fiction. But the environment is decidedly modern: At some point in the not-so-distant past, a bright spark realized that switching on a newly invented light bulb was much easier than casting a complicated fire spell.

As a result, magic has all but vanished from the land, which — aside from its unusual inhabitants — now resembles a typical human metropolis replete with high schools, freeway traffic jams and callous developers determined to replace historic magical landmarks with multi-story sprawl.

(A “modern” world that has all but eradicated conjuring. How many dozens — hundreds? — of fantasy books and series have been built of this premise? Been there, done that.)

Toy Story 4: Shopworn

Toy Story 4 (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated G, despite some scary sequences
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.21.19

The familiar faces are as welcome as longtime friends; the new characters are both adorable and — in some cases — shiveringly disturbing; the dialog remains witty and funny; the incidental encounters are amusing, clever and well-paced; the voice talent is as sharp as ever.

Bo Peep, aware of the dangers awaiting those who unwisely venture into the antique
store's main aisles, carefully leads her friends — Buzz Lightyear, Woody, Bunny, Ducky
and (on her shoulder) Giggle McDimples — behind dusty cabinets, as they try to rescue
a captured comrade.

But the driving plotline for Toy Story 4 — arguably, the reason for the film’s existence — isn’t nearly as satisfying as those of its predecessors. It feels contrived, rather than organic. The whole remains less than the sum of its well-crafted parts.

One can’t help feeling that this is a case of Slinky Dog’s tail wagging the rest of its body: a film dictated more by crass commerce than artistic justification.

2010’s Toy Story 3 gave the franchise a warm sense of closure, with now-grown Andy passing his beloved plaything companions to preschool-age Bonnie. As we’ve constantly been reminded, a toy’s noblest endeavor is to bring comfort and enchantment to an imaginative child: a mission that cannot be accomplished if tucked into a box that gets stored in an attic, like Puff the Magic Dragon sadly slipping into his cave.

Toy Story 4 similarly concludes with a different sort of torch-passing, which — depending on one’s emotional involvement with these characters — will prompt tears, bewilderment, snorts of displeasure, or a feeling of outright betrayal.

Full disclosure: I don’t approve of what scripters Andrew Stanton and Stephany Folsom — working from a story by eight (!) credited writers, including John Lasseter and Rashida Jones — have wrought.

But that comes much later.

The film begins with a prologue dating back to Andy’s era, which explains why Bo Peep (voiced by Annie Potts) was MIA in Toy Story 3. She, her three sheep — Billy, Goat and Gruff — and matching lamp were tumbled into a box with other items to be donated elsewhere, much to the dismay of Woody (Tom Hanks). Turns out he’s long nurtured a crush for Bo Peep, likely to the surprise of those who figured he and feisty Jessie (Joan Cusack) were an unspoken item.

Back in the present day, Woody is enduring insult on top of injury, since little Bonnie prefers to pin his sheriff’s badge on Jessie. Woody, in turn, has been relegated to the back reaches of a closet laden with other neglected toys: among them Melephant Brooks (Mel Brooks), Carl Reineroceros (Carl Reiner) and Chairol Burnett (Carol Burnett).

That’s a cute bit of stunt casting, but their appearances are so brief, you’ll scarcely notice.

Incredibles 2: Close, but not quite

Incredibles 2 (2018) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.15.18

The frequently delightful and long-awaited Incredibles 2 (14 years!) has much to recommend it, and writer/director Brad Bird obviously used the time wisely; his sequel avoids many of the pitfalls that characterize the often dismaying “sophomore curse.”

When you're taking the baby for a family stroll, confronting a super-villain can be awkward:
from left, Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl, Dash, Violet and baby Jack-Jack decide how best to
handle the subterranean-dwelling Underminer.

That said, this second outing lacks the spark, snap and freshness of its predecessor. The pacing is uneven — the first act is particularly slow — and the balance is off. The numerous sequences with infant Jack-Jack are undeniably hilarious — a hyper-edited encounter with a raccoon could be extracted as a terrific cartoon short — but the baby steals too much focus from the rest of his family ... and, indeed, from the core plot.

As the first film made abundantly clear, the super-heroic Parr family functions best when it functions together ... and this story waits far too long to deliver on that promise.

Events kick off in the immediate aftermath of the previous adventure. Super-powered crime fighters remain illegal: The government and general public still are unwilling to overlook the collateral damage that results when the good guys do their best to bring down super-villains such as the Underminer and his massive conical drill (which broke through to the surface world in the first film’s final scene).

(Geek alert: Given that Bird clearly intended the Parr family as an homage to Marvel Comics’ Fantastic Four, the Underminer is a similarly droll wink-and-nod to the Mole Man, whom the FF battled in their debut November 1961 comic book.)

Despite the best efforts of Mr. Incredible (voiced by Craig T. Nelson), Elastigirl (Holly Hunter), teenage daughter Violet (Sarah Vowell) and adolescent son Dash (Huckleberry Milner), the Underminer’s drill takes out a massive swath of downtown Municiberg. Adding insult to injury, the villain escapes.

Worse yet, longtime colleague and “fixer” Rick Dicker (Jonathan Banks), whose Super Relocation Program has helped the Parrs — in their civilian identities — evade public censure, informs them that his division has just been shuttered by the government. Bob, Helen and their children are on their own ... and homeless, thanks to events in the first film. Dicker’s last bit of generosity is a two-week stay in the amusingly droll Safari Court Motel.

Coco: A tasty treat

Coco (2017) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.22.17

This one’s deceptive.

At first blush, Pixar’s Coco feels like the saga of a little boy who desperately wants to embrace melody and song, but is thwarted by parents and relatives with a deeply rooted aversion to music.

As his faithful dog Dante watches attentively, Miguel prepares to receive a blessing from
his long-deceased Mamá Imelda: a necessary ritual, lest the boy be forced to remain
forever in the Land of the Dead. Alas, the blessing will come with strings attached...

That’s accurate enough, but merely the entry point to this wildly imaginative, gloriously colorful and unexpectedly poignant saga of family bonds. Co-directors Lee Unkrich and Adrian Molina — who also co-scripted the story, alongside Jason Katz and Matthew Aldrich — have ingeniously employed Mexico’s annual Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebration to illustrate the importance of honoring — and remembering — past generations.

The narrative takes place during a single fast-paced day and night, and is laden with gentle messages that range from To Thine Own Self Be True, to There’s No Place Like Home.

In the tradition of Pixar’s best films, the tone veers between droll comedy and heartbreaking pathos, and from larkish excitement to edge-of-the-seat suspense. At the same time, we’re dazzled by the animated equivalent of phenomenal production design, and charmed by some cleverly integrated songs, including an endearing ballad written by Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez, the Academy Award-winning team behind the power anthem “Let It Go,” from Frozen.

The rather complex narrative defies an elevator pitch, and opens with a prologue that cleverly establishes back-story via Día de los Muertos paper-cut flags. We then meet 12-year-old Miguel (voiced with earnest sincerity by young Anthony Gonzalez), who chafes at the limitations imposed by a jovial clan of shoemakers.

This family business has become the pride of Santa Cecilia: a calling that began with Miguel’s great-great-grandmother Mamá Imelda, as a means of survival when her husband abandoned the family — including toddler daughter Coco — in order to follow his dream of becoming a famous musician. Mamá Imelda’s subsequent ban on music has been enforced strictly by subsequent generations, much to Miguel’s dismay.

He dreams of growing up to be a celebrated musician like his idol, Ernesto de la Cruz, who became the most famous musician in Mexican history: conquering pop charts, movies and concert stages.

But thanks to the disciplinarian edicts of his grandmother Abuelita (Renée Victor), the frustrated Miguel believes that he’s backed into an either/or corner: He must choose between his passion for music, and his love for his family. Efforts at persuasion merely harden Abuelita’s position, and so Miguel — having accidentally stumbled upon a family secret — yields to an ill-advised impulse, as night falls on Día de los Muertos.

The 2016 Oscar Shorts: Little treasures (for the most part)

The 2016 Oscar Shorts (2016) • View trailer 
Four stars. Unrated, although the live-action entries include profanity, nudity and dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang

Voters in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences have an almost xenophobic tendency — for the most part — to limit feature film nominees to American productions. The entire wealth of overseas entries are forced to duke it out in the single Best Foreign Film category.

Kwame (Prince Yaw Appiah) and Inger (Malene Beltoft Olsen) embark on an unlikely
relationship, in Silent Nights.

Granted, exceptions exist; Back in 2000, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon pulled a whopping 10 Oscar nominations, winning four. But that’s rare; an average year generally fields only one or two token foreign nominees. That’s certainly the case with the 2016 contenders: Isabelle Huppert is a Best Actress nominee for France’s Elle, and Sweden’s A Man Called Ove pulled a nod for Best Makeup. And that’s it.

As Garfield has been known to observe, Big, fat, hairy deal.

How refreshing, then, that the two short film categories usually are a gloriously international affair.

An impressive 137 live-action short films qualified for the 89th annual Academy Awards, of which 10 were short-listed back in late November. Those subsequently were winnowed to the final five contenders, which — as has become an annual tradition — currently are touring the country as part of an Oscar Shorts package. They’re showing locally at Sacramento’s Crest Theater, between now and the end of the month.

Voters apparently favored European sensibilities this year, with the five finalists — every one of them thoughtful, provocative and/or delightful — hailing from France, Switzerland, Denmark, Hungary and Spain.

I only wish the voters in the animated short film category had displayed similar taste, judgment and imagination. Ten titles were short-listed, again in late November, from an initial 69 submissions; they subsequently were narrowed down to the five remaining nominees. To my surprise and disappointment, they’re all English-language: three from the States, and the remaining two from Canada.

And at the risk of offending our Northern neighbor, both of the Canadian entries leave much to be desired.

I simply cannot believe that none of the other 64 contenders, no doubt from all sorts of different countries, weren’t better than those two nominees. The mind doth boggle.