It's really easy to overlook a film like Turning Red, a non-franchise entry from Pixar that reads like a cross between Teen Wolf and The Edge of Seventeen. Perhaps that's why Disney chose to ship this film directly to streaming while (as of now) the Buzz Lightyear origin story is still primed for theaters. But I'll save that conversation for another time.
It's really easy to overlook a film like Turning Red, but I really hope we don't.
The film follows a thirteen year old girl who experiences the onset of an ancient family curse that transforms them into giant red pandas when they experience any high-volume emotion. This can turn studying for an algebra test or seeing her favorite boy band perform live into a very awkward experience. Thank goodness there's a family ritual that can lock away the beast for good.
But as Meilin learns to live with this quirk, it starts to feel less like a curse and more like a superpower. Is she so sure she wants to cast out the coolest part of herself? Turns out the panda is really good for birthday parties. Maybe, despite her mother's insistence that "There's a darkness to the panda," (yes, that's an actual line), Meilin wants to hang onto this piece of her.
Many of the themes that surface in this film will feel familiar, especially in recent years: family ties, self-acceptance, learning to let go, the list goes on. But these themes don't compete with each other, and so it's easy to synthesize them all into something as complex and multi-faceted as maturity itself.
It was during the early scenes in the film that I was reminded that animated films don't always need an exotic, fantastical setting. Even the realm of downtown Toronto can look like a wonderland with the right eye for animation. In this film with this eye, it looks a lot like living in a teenager's doodle pad, one that our protagonist is drawing in right before our eyes as she attempts to write her own story.
That story has a clear current of teenage angst. Not just awkwardness, though the film does hit that base hard, but borderline narcissism. The youthful conviction that one's personal struggle for identity and autonomy is deserving of its own opening narration. It's easy to look back on this period of life and cringe, but this film isn't so self-loathing. This age of trial and error and baseless confidence is a kiln for forming identity, and maybe we all need to be kinder to the person we once were.
Pixar is still learning how to define itself in the wake of their decade of sequels as well as the removal of creative head John Lasseter. A recurring theme in their recent efforts (Luca and Onward come to mind) seems to be encouraging the directors to tell "personal" stories. I don't think the secret to the success of these films is as straightforward as simply having the directors tell loosely autobiographical stories, but looking at them honestly. Not just telling, but sharing. Pixar seems to have found the golden (red?) mean.
They're in good hands, and so are we.
--The Professor
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