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Soul (Pete Docter, 2020)
🕑 Added 2021-01-11 19:11:36 +0000 UTC
For the most part, Soul is a genial riff on the sorts of themes that Pixar has been working with for the better part of fifteen years. They love wayward characters (Rémy, Carl Fredericksen, WALL-E, Joy and Sadness) who are struggling to discern the true meaning of life. In its focus on a "beyond" realm, or a level of reality apart from the material and the quotidian, Soul is very much like an adult version of Inside Out, as many folks have already pointed out.
But I can't help but feel that Docter's intimate familiarity with this terrain has resulted in a bit of inattention. In some ways, Soul is rather slapdash, cutting narrative corners on the assumption that Pixar viewers will already know what's at stake and can mentally fill in the gaps. It's not just that an idea like "the Zone" (apologies to Tarkovsky) seems like a significant cheat, a way to connect the otherwise discrete worlds of the living and the dead. (Is this meant to literalize the notion of "soul," such that our passions allow us to transcend life itself? Then why are we fighting so hard to remain on Earth?)
No, mainly Soul skimps on characterization, opting instead to signpost all the usual elements of the genre. Joe Gardner (Jamie Foxx), we learn, is so obsessed with jazz that he has no real connection to the larger world. This would probably make him a "lost soul" candidate. But he's somehow supposed to embrace the liberatory aspects of art while also, somehow, learning that art is not enough, that true magic (or whatever) lay in the tiny details of everyday existence. When 22 (Tina Fey) inhabits his body, she discovers all the simple joys of embodiment, but Soul never convincingly articulates the connection of art and the everyday.
The less said about the conclusion the better, except that it's yet another example of American animation's refusal to confront children with anything that might upset them. Joe is clearly prepared to sacrifice his life, but he can't "die," so the Jerries have to give him backsies. This means that nothing was ever really at stake. All of this sloppy thinking is particularly annoying because so much of Soul is gorgeously designed, drawing on Picasso, Henry Moore, but perhaps more importantly the classic 1940s and 50s cartoons of Chuck Jones, Tex Avery, and Friz Freleng. The abstraction of the Great Before seems to nod to everything from Norman McLaren to Gerald McBoing Boing.
But even a formalist like me needs a bit more than that. Soul is a worthy enough addition to the Pixar canon, but in the final analysis it will probably rank as a middle-tier entry.
