On the Inside Looking Out

       With last week's release of Inside Out on Blu-Ray, (which, of course, I had to buy the day it came out), this seemed an appropriate time to bust out a long overdue blog post that's been gathering dust in my notebook since summer.
       There was a time when I believed that Pixar Animation Studios could do no wrong, but I have to admit that it's been a good few years since the last time I really looked forward to one of their movies. So it was exciting to see advertisements for Inside Out and feel that anticipation that I've been missing. I was sure that, for the first time since Toy Story 3, maybe even before that, I'd get to watch a Pixar flick that truly tugged at my heartstrings the way the old classics did. As it turned out, I got quite a bit more than what I bargained for.
       My boyfriend has developed this uncanny ability to know when I'm crying during a film, even when I'm trying my best to hide it. I know this, because every time the silent tears start streaming down my face, his arm instinctively wraps around my shoulders and pulls me in close. I spent a very large percentage of Inside Out with my head resting on Kevin's shoulder, so much so that my neck felt a little stiff by the end of it. And every time I had a break and thought it was safe to sit upright, it was only a matter of minutes before his arm was around me again. Inside Out made me cry more than any Pixar movie every has, (and anybody who has ever seen almost any Pixar movie knows that's saying something).
       I felt like Inside Out just got me. I know all too well how it feels to be out of control of my emotions, to have random feelings taking over without me being able to figure out why. I've been at that place of feeling like I was losing parts of my personality, and letting myself shut down because I couldn't get a handle on my emotions. I understand wanting nothing more than to find joy when it feels like sadness is overtaking my every thought. Even the tag scene, which already provided a wonderful bit of levity after such an emotional roller-coaster of a film, was especially hilarious to anyone who has ever witnessed a cat flipping out at the drop of a hat for apparently no reason at all. So for me, a cat owner struggling with emotional turmoil, Inside Out seemed perfect. It even got better the more I read about the inspiration behind the story, or people's in-depth analyses of its little details.
       Given my intense emotional reaction to the movie, you can imagine my surprise to find out how many people were thoroughly unimpressed by it. I understand that people have different taste in movies, but this was something else. A lot of people really didn't like it. Some claimed it was uninteresting or went on too long. Others were upset because their kids didn't like it. What shocked me most, though, was who didn't like it. These opinions were coming from people whose taste in things I usually respect, and often share. So why was I lauding this movie as a genius piece of cinema while so many others were so "meh" about it?
       This isn't to say I'm alone in my undying adoration of Inside Out. There are a fair few people who have the same enthusiasm for Pixar's latest gem, one of them being my friend Sarah, who studies child psychology, and found Inside Out to be brilliant and fascinating. Since she saw it, she has been posting all manner of articles and reviews on social media. It's because of one of these articles that I realized why I had such a strong reaction to the movie, and perhaps why others didn't.
       The article highlighted the fact that Inside Out might have the potential to start important conversations about mental health. It's a visual depiction of how it can sometimes feel to experience anxiety and depression. For those of us who have had a hard time finding the words to explain our feelings, Inside Out puts it all right there on screen for everyone to understand.
       The problem was, I think, that people who haven't had those thoughts and feelings couldn't fully understand what they were looking at. Friends of mine were correct in pointing out that it wasn't much of a kid's movie, because a lot of kids, especially little ones, might be too young to understand its emotional complexity. Or, as was the case with at least a couple of people I know, their kids felt upset by the movie without being able to figure out why, and there was never a super bright and cheery payoff to make up for it.
       For my adult friends more mentally sound than I, it makes sense that they weren't that engaged or entertained. And it makes even more sense that many of them were confused by the actions of the characters, Several friends of mine found themselves frustrated, wondering why Sadness kept touching memories when Joy told her not to, or why Joy couldn't just touch memories to make them happy again. My friend Cassie also pointed out that not everyone who has anxiety or depression experiences those things in the same way. While I felt like I related to how it was shown, it didn't speak to everyone like it did to me.
       The more I talk to people about Inside Out, the more I realize that it appeals to a pretty limited demographic. And while I would typically sit in silent judgment of people whose opinions in film differ from mine, that's not the case here. These are all valid concerns, particularly where kids are concerned. Most people would go into a Pixar film with the expectation that it will be light-hearted and entertaining for kids, and to be presented with such heavy material instead must feel to some people like a huge let-down.
       I won't try to convince everyone that they should watch it again and try harder to enjoy it, because if you, personally, don't relate to it, it likely still won't appeal to you. Kevin hasn't lived with anxiety and depression, and so Inside Out didn't resonate with him quite the way it did with me. However, he still had a deep appreciation for it, at least in part because he was there to see my reaction to it, and because he's been with me long enough to fathom at least a bit of how my anxiety affects me. In fact, he was the one to suggest that we write conjoining blog posts about our reactions to the movie.
       If you know someone who is like me, or especially if you have a child beginning to struggle with emotions that he or she can't verbalize, Inside Out might be worth a second look, even if just to get a better grasp on what they might be feeling, which might make communication much simpler. It may never be your favorite Pixar production, and that's okay. But hopefully I've been able to give you a deeper appreciation for what it could mean to the people you love.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "The Joy of Credits" - Michael Giacchino (Inside Out - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

I've Just Had An Apostrophe

       Lightning has just struck my brain.
       It's funny how the smallest thing can lead to a very random train of thought, ultimately ending up at a life-changing revelation. On a seemingly normal day, I was passing by the break room across the hall from mine, and I caught a glimpse of their TV screen for a fraction of a second. They were watching Hook. For the brief moment that I could see the screen, it was a shot of Dustin Hoffman as Captain James Hook, standing in the Captain's Quarters in all his piratical glory. So why my thoughts immediately drifted to Peter Pan himself, I haven't the slightest clue. Whatever the reason, this is what went through my mind:
       For anyone watching Hook, especially children, it's easy to get the impression that Peter Banning is a bad person. From what we can tell, he is a terrible husband, a neglectful father, and kind of a jerk in general. He is consumed with work, and cares little about anything or anyone else. He has even forgotten Neverland and his entire identity as Peter Pan, which is, arguably, symbolic of his having left behind every shred of childlike innocence that he once possessed. It's enough to make anyone shudder at the idea of becoming an adult, so it's not surprising in the least that so many people nowadays, (men, most commonly), tend to cling so ferociously to their childhoods. It's so prevalent that "Peter Pan Syndrome" is an official condition diagnosed by psychological professionals.
       Hook isn't the only culprit. Most of us are used to versions of the Peter Pan story where young Peter is portrayed as a hero. Eternal youth and perpetual freedom from responsibility are utterly glorified, while the ugly side of never-ending childhood is ignored. However, J.M. Barrie, (who once described children as "innocent and heartless"), never intended for Peter to be an absolute role model. He has an endearing enthusiasm and a delightful thirst for adventure, certainly, but right along with those, there is flightiness, (no pun intended), immaturity, selfishness, and an errant disregard for the welfare of others. He stubbornly refuses to grow up, and even tries to trick Wendy into thinking that her mother has forgotten her so that she and the Lost Boys won't leave him to return to England. He promises to come back for Wendy, but forgets to do so until she is grown up with a child of her own. In this light, Peter Pan doesn't come out looking like much of a hero at all.
       I admit I didn't realize this until I had my huge epiphany, but even Hook doesn't present Peter Pan as a purely noble character. There is a moment near the end of the movie that I always used to gloss over, probably because the scene is pretty awkward, but my profound train of thought led me back to it and I suddenly understood how significant it really is. After a couple of days in Neverland, Peter regains his memories and becomes Peter Pan again. By that, I don't just mean that he remembers how to fly, fight, and crow, but I mean he reverts completely back to a childish state. In the scene where he visits Tinker Bell, he refers to everything as a game, his logic when it comes to curing illnesses is juvenile and silly, and he momentarily forgets about his children, who are supposed to be the whole reason behind his return to Neverland. Then Tink gets human-sized and they kiss, and I think that's where this scene lost the audience and everyone missed the point. But the important thing is that Hook has now shown us the downfalls of both adulthood and childhood, and therein lies the genius of it all.
       It's not a terrible thing to be a kid, nor is growing up some kind of unspeakable evil. What Hook does is warn us against the dangers of going too far to either end of the spectrum. It's a fantastic thing to be childlike, and to hold on to your imagination and sense of wonder as long as you can. It only becomes harmful when you cross the line into being childish. Becoming an adult means discovering your potential, having a family, and getting the chance to explore the world again through the eyes of your own children. Like many people out there, Peter Banning presumably took on his job with good intentions at first, wanting to provide for the family he loved. The problem is that people forget that they are allowed to enjoy the fruits of their labors. They drown themselves in their careers and daily stress, so much so that everything they started working for in the first place gets unintentionally placed on the back-burner.
       We don't see much beyond Peter, Jack, and Maggie's return to England, but after a lot of rumination on the subject, I like to think that the end result, and the true point of Hook, was that Peter found a perfect balance between Pan and Banning, Rather than drifting between two unhealthy extremes, I believe Peter finally learned to merge the best parts of childhood and adulthood, to be responsible for his family and his career, (in that order), while still appreciating his life as the awfully big adventure that it should be.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "Presenting The Hook" - John Williams (Hook - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

An Even Newer Hope

       I suppose my tag is a little misleading here, because this isn't going to be so much a movie review as it is a movie trailer review. That will also probably explain why this post will be slightly shorter than my typical posts, but then again, maybe that's good news to some of you.

       If you've been on the Internet at all in the past few days, or just generally living on this planet, you've at least heard about the new teaser trailer for Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens. You may have also heard about the range of fan reactions to said trailer, including (but not limited to) extreme goosebumps and crying openly. If you're not a Star Wars fan, or if you haven't yet seen the trailer, perhaps you're thinking that this is weird. Well, as someone who got unexpectedly teary-eyed watching the teaser, I'm here to tell you that it isn't.

       It's no secret that the Star Wars prequels were an utter disappointment, but until this past weekend, I don't know if we knew just how let down we had really been. When the prequels were coming to theaters, fans of the franchise were brimming with excitement, because it was the first time we were teased with the notion that Star Wars might live on in the mainstream as more than just another classic tale. Then people went to see Episode I, and saw how awful it was. After that came Episode II, which was even worse. By the time Episode III came out, people weren't even excited anymore. I personally waited until it was almost ready to leave theaters before deciding that, eh, I might as well go see it.

       This was an especially difficult blow for people of my generation, because we weren't even born yet when any of the original films had their theatrical releases. We never got to experience them on the big screen, (that is, until they were re-released with all of the stupid CGI effects thrown in, but let's not talk about that). We grew up in a world where it was common knowledge that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's father, and so most of us never got to have that feeling of true incredulity at the moment of the big reveal. The prequels are the only new films that we've ever had.

       Before this past weekend, we had gotten to a point where we were almost complacent in our love of Star Wars. Out of a sort of duty to the original trilogy, we would watch the prequels and the spin-off shows, but though all of these things are "officially" canon, they've never felt like Star Wars to any of us. The real Star Wars was becoming just another classic tale. It was nostalgic. Until the trailer dropped. 

       Having been so burned by the previous "new" Star Wars material, I think a lot of us were hesitant to get too excited for Episode VII. Even with the assurance that George Lucas wouldn't be there to screw it up, even with the news that J.J. Abrams was using practical effects again, even with the intriguing first teaser, we were, at best, cautiously optimistic. But this past weekend, we saw a trailer chock full of elements of the original trilogy, from the characters to the music to the dialogue. We saw the first thing since 1983 that actually felt like Star Wars. Suddenly, we had a reason to believe that the franchise might finally be restored to its former glory. So you see, it makes every bit of sense that we were overcome with such intense emotions, because for the first time in years, we have a New Hope.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "Yoda and The Force" - John Williams (The Empire Strikes Back - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)