Soul: The Kids Movie Made For Adults
Disney, Pixar, and the evolution of kids movies
If you’re alive on Planet Earth, you’ve probably seen a Disney movie. And if you have half of a heart beating in your chest, you’ve probably even shed a tear or two during one. Whether it was in those last few minutes of Inside Out, those first few minutes of Up, or during Mufasa’s death in The Lion King, most of us can admit to being touched by Disney.
It’s not difficult to see why Disney has had such an enduring role in the world of entertainment. With few exceptions, Disney movies tell heartwarming tales that can be enjoyed by just about everyone who watches them. Many of the films are considered family classics.
While the movies are light on the surface, though, there are few that lack a deeper emotional core. And oftentimes, these deeper underpinnings aren’t ones that can be easily appreciated by children. They can be readily enthralled with the stories told without an understanding of the metaphors that lay beneath them.
But as animation technology has improved and Pixar branched off from Disney, it grew clear that we’d entered into a new era in animation. After Toy Story, Cars, and Ratatouille had each been released to critical acclaim, it seemed as though people had begun to expect a bit more soul from these modern-day ‘kids’ movies.
Wall-E delved into new territory in its nearly dialogue-free tale about climate change. As a child, it was a movie that struggled to capture me in the same way that A Bug’s Life and Peter Pan had. But as an adult, I love it for attempting a project so overtly willing to disengage its key demographic in favor of the narrative it has to tell.
Inside Out, too, told a story I imagine went above the heads of so many of the children who’d come to see it. By then, though, I’d grown up enough that I could appreciate firsthand what an anomaly it was to see an animated movie with such a devastatingly emotional undercurrent.
Soul is the third in a series of Pixar movies that seems as though it tries very little to appeal to so many of the younger children who would likely come to see it. From the story’s exposition to its jazz musician main character to the plot’s near-immediate lunge into abstruse, philosophical territory, it’s really not a film for children. It’s not so inappropriate that it would demand viewer discretion, but even the surface-level story here is one that could necessitate conversations that some families may save for later in life.
Unlike so many of the Disney and Pixar movies that came before it, the topics of life, death, and depression present themselves as plainly as can be. These more serious subjects rise to the surface in a way that they hadn’t achieved in even Finding Nemo. The heavier themes don’t attempt to conceal themselves. And the result is a movie that candidly deep-dives into one of the very most important subjects tackled in a Disney film yet: purpose.
Even as it digs into some of the most charged territory ever attempted in a children’s film, though, it isn’t preaching or overly complicated in its presentation of the message. While it likely still loses some of its youngest viewers with the story’s more philosophical turns, Soul achieves a striking levity in the face of so many of life’s least approachable subjects. It explores daunting ideas, but it does so whimsically.
The main message of the movie Soul, though, is one that I’ve seen presented in surprisingly few other places. The idea that our value isn’t derived from the job we choose is one I’m not sure I’ve ever seen presented quite so poignantly.
Soul manages to capture the notion that the meaning in life is derived from the beautiful moments in it: the heartfelt conversations, the smell of pizza, and the sun that pokes through trees during a bike ride on a warm summer’s day. A montage delicately encapsulates the protagonist’s life, as though flashing before his eyes, and the duality of graceful and menial moments that give his life its meaning.
The soundtrack, too, does a spectacular job of accompanying the film in its foray into such profound subject matter. With an original score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross as well as Jazz compositions by Jon Batiste, the music here is one of the film’s most defining features. The song “Epiphany” stands for me as one of the greatest and most powerfully implemented tracks ever used in a movie.
Soul not only manages to achieve new heights in the world of Pixar — a feat that’s no easy challenge, to begin with — but rises above so many of the films released in Hollywood today. From the soundtrack and animation to the story told, Soul musters a level of emotional depth that’s groundbreaking among even the heaviest hitters in the world of cinema. To think of this as “just a kid’s movie” feels woefully inaccurate.
If you’re alive on Planet Earth, you’ve probably seen a Disney movie. And if you have half of a heart beating in your chest, you’ve probably even shed a tear or two during one. Whether it was in those last few minutes of Inside Out, those first few minutes of Up, or during Mufasa’s death in The Lion King, most of us can admit to being touched by Disney.
It’s not difficult to see why Disney has had such an enduring role in the world of entertainment. With few exceptions, Disney movies tell heartwarming tales that can be enjoyed by just about everyone who watches them. Many of the films are considered family classics.
While the movies are light on the surface, though, there are few that lack a deeper emotional core. And oftentimes, these deeper underpinnings aren’t ones that can be easily appreciated by children. They can be readily enthralled with the stories told without an understanding of the metaphors that lay beneath them.
But as animation technology has improved and Pixar branched off from Disney, it grew clear that we’d entered into a new era in animation. After Toy Story, Cars, and Ratatouille had each been released to critical acclaim, it seemed as though people had begun to expect a bit more soul from these modern-day ‘kids’ movies.
Wall-E delved into new territory in its nearly dialogue-free tale about climate change. As a child, it was a movie that struggled to capture me in the same way that A Bug’s Life and Peter Pan had. But as an adult, I love it for attempting a project so overtly willing to disengage its key demographic in favor of the narrative it has to tell.
Inside Out, too, told a story I imagine went above the heads of so many of the children who’d come to see it. By then, though, I’d grown up enough that I could appreciate firsthand what an anomaly it was to see an animated movie with such a devastatingly emotional undercurrent.
Soul is the third in a series of Pixar movies that seems as though it tries very little to appeal to so many of the younger children who would likely come to see it. From the story’s exposition to its jazz musician main character to the plot’s near-immediate lunge into abstruse, philosophical territory, it’s really not a film for children. It’s not so inappropriate that it would demand viewer discretion, but even the surface-level story here is one that could necessitate conversations that some families may save for later in life.
Unlike so many of the Disney and Pixar movies that came before it, the topics of life, death, and depression present themselves as plainly as can be. These more serious subjects rise to the surface in a way that they hadn’t achieved in even Finding Nemo. The heavier themes don’t attempt to conceal themselves. And the result is a movie that candidly deep-dives into one of the very most important subjects tackled in a Disney film yet: purpose.
Even as it digs into some of the most charged territory ever attempted in a children’s film, though, it isn’t preaching or overly complicated in its presentation of the message. While it likely still loses some of its youngest viewers with the story’s more philosophical turns, Soul achieves a striking levity in the face of so many of life’s least approachable subjects. It explores daunting ideas, but it does so whimsically.
The main message of the movie Soul, though, is one that I’ve seen presented in surprisingly few other places. The idea that our value isn’t derived from the job we choose is one I’m not sure I’ve ever seen presented quite so poignantly.
Soul manages to capture the notion that the meaning in life is derived from the beautiful moments in it: the heartfelt conversations, the smell of pizza, and the sun that pokes through trees during a bike ride on a warm summer’s day. A montage delicately encapsulates the protagonist’s life, as though flashing before his eyes, and the duality of graceful and menial moments that give his life its meaning.
The soundtrack, too, does a spectacular job of accompanying the film in its foray into such profound subject matter. With an original score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross as well as Jazz compositions by Jon Batiste, the music here is one of the film’s most defining features. The song “Epiphany” stands for me as one of the greatest and most powerfully implemented tracks ever used in a movie.
Soul not only manages to achieve new heights in the world of Pixar — a feat that’s no easy challenge, to begin with — but rises above so many of the films released in Hollywood today. From the soundtrack and animation to the story told, Soul musters a level of emotional depth that’s groundbreaking among even the heaviest hitters in the world of cinema. To think of this as “just a kid’s movie” feels woefully inaccurate.