A new Pixar movie is always cause for celebration. But with such a long string of films that are more like soft, huggable security blankets than mere films, I always go into the theater a bit anxious, worried that I’m going to be let down and disillusioned. Sorry, Brave, but you were an itchy blanket that smelled like cheese and Mom threw you out.
Jennifer and I saw Inside Out this weekend and I’m pleased to report that I’ll be hugging it until it’s old, dirty, threadbare, gnawed at the corners, and begging for a biohazard warning. I loved it from the first frame to the last, in fact I didn’t want it to end—and I’m hoping maybe it won’t until we’ve seen a sequel or two because there’s nearly endless potential for further stories.
Go see the movie. Especially if you’re a human. I’d love to hear what everyone else thought of it.
P.S. (I think it says a lot about me that, so far, my two favorite movies of the year are Inside Out and Mad Max: Fury Road. Both are heavyweights of visual storytelling–lots of “show,” minimal “tell.” And I also recognize that they both feature strong female protagonists, which Fin Button keeps telling me I seem to have a thing for. Who knows, maybe Joss Whedon and I are related somehow.)