A Universal Picture

Pixar’s new movie Hoppers is out, and not only does it seem to be a hit, it’s getting pretty much unanimous praise from critics and audiences both. So it was a brilliant PR move for Pete Docter to turn the attention back to Elio. And to do so by saying the worst thing he possibly could’ve said.

Believe it or not, I’m not particularly interested in jumping onto the dog pile. I already got my zinger in: “‘We’re Making a Movie, Not Hundreds of Millions of Dollars of Therapy,’ says the writer and director of Inside Out.” [pause for approval from the internet]. If I’m being honest, I really didn’t like Elio, and I’m highly skeptical that making it more explicit that the main character was a gay kid would’ve done anything to change that.

Personally, I’m more interested in the whole topic of diversity and representation in popular entertainment. The difference between just acknowledging that it’s a noble goal and something that we should all strive to achieve, and really understanding why it’s important and committing to doing it right.

Because Docter’s comments put me in an awkward position. For years, I’ve been trying to defend Pixar against the criticism that the studio makes nothing but movies about the experiences and anxieties of straight, white men*. Except that they’re sold as “family movies” because the straight, white men have been represented by toys, cars, ants, monsters, fish, rats, adolescent girls, and, occasionally, straight, white men.

So when critics would respond to something like Toy Story 4 with “oh, not this bullshit again,” I was always insistent that the business of the studio should be kept separate from its creative output. I believed — and still do, to some degree — that they were doing exactly the right thing with the movies themselves, it was just the studio structure that was undermining that.

When I look at the “golden age” of Pixar, I think the one thing that makes the movies feel timeless and universal is that they didn’t have the overriding goal of being timeless and universal. Obviously, they aren’t scrappy independent projects; a ton of work went into modifying character designs, streamlining scripts, refining gags, choosing voice talent and music, all to make the movies as universally appealing and marketable as possible. But they hung all of this around a core idea that was very specific and personal, which keeps it from feeling like Commercial Entertainment Product.1Even Cars, although the personal touch is shallower, since as far as I’ve ever been able tell, it’s just “I love Route 66.”

Finding Nemo is obviously about a father learning to be less over-protective of his son. Toy Story and Toy Story 4 are both about a man at different stages in his life, feeling anxiety over becoming irrelevant. I’ve complained a lot about The Incredibles over the years, but my biggest criticism is also my biggest compliment: underneath all the fantastic mid-century design, comic book super-hero callbacks, perfectly-executed action moments, it never loses the specific voice of a man who’s read a lot of Ayn Rand, took it all to heart, and is still holding a grudge over The Iron Giant.

The distinction between the creative side and the studio structure seemed important, because it had an obvious fix: push for more diversity in the people making the movies, not just in the movies themselves. Because if you’re just trying to fix the movies, even if you have the best of intentions, it’s easy to spot as a bunch of insincere patch fixes.

But it’s the thing that The Discourse always seems to focus on, making it feel like complaining about the symptoms instead of the actual problem. Like I said, giving Elio a pink bike and a boy crush wouldn’t have fixed my issues with that movie. Putting in or removing (based on who’s complaining the loudest) a lesbian relationship from Lightyear wouldn’t have made that movie feel any less like a dour slog. And Toy Story 4 would almost certainly have felt like less of a retread if it hadn’t been content to just put Bo Peep in pants, and a flashback to make her seem more kick-ass, but had gone all-in and made her the protagonist of the story.

It briefly seemed like Pixar was starting to get it, with Turning Red and Coco. Inside Out was fine, I guess, but it did very much seem to be striving to be universally appealing; this is what all kids go through. The others came from a more personal, specific experience, and just as with all of the Straight White Guy entries, the specificity is what makes it universal. It’s not trying to be authentic, it’s coming from a genuinely authentic place, and audiences respond to that authenticity. I’ve never had a period and I didn’t grow up in a Mexican household, but I still feel like I get it.

But for whatever reason, they quickly course-corrected and said, “Nah, we’re not into that, actually.” Making me feel stupid for defending them.

And it’s just a drag. Of course, it’s always a drag when you see business and commerce intruding on art, especially when it’s a bunch of white guys stamping their feet and insisting on a return to Traditional Values while claiming it’s what The People Want and they’ve got the numbers to prove it. These movies about an adolescent white girl standing in for all children everywhere made a metric shit-ton of money, while this movie catering to the Mexican demographic only made a ton of money. The people have spoken, and they yearn for whiteness!

But it’s especially a drag when you think someone has figured out exactly the right balance between art and commerce, making it a win for everyone. I really believed Pixar had cracked the code, and it stings to see them learning all the wrong lessons.

And it’s a drag to see people flat-out refusing to challenge their own assumptions, like a Californian insisting “I don’t have an accent” because they can’t conceive of a world in which their accent isn’t the default. Whether it was taken out of context or not, and whether it indicates his personal views or not, Docter’s quote says that gay people are a special interest group. A girl having a crush on a boy is uncontroversial and universal; a boy having a crush on a boy requires careful and delicate handling.

Whether or not a studio is willing to take on that careful and delicate handling to make people2Any people; it’s definitely not just an LGBTQ representation issue feel included is all but irrelevant, unfortunately. It’s already missed the sincerity cut-off, the line that separates sincere expression from focus-tested diversity. Because it ignores the obvious fact that as a gay kid, I didn’t feel like some weird special interest until people treated me like one; it was my normal.

And it seems like an adamant refusal to even consider whether the exclusive coven of straight white American men that spent decades with full creative control over Pixar might’ve been the most special of special interest groups. Sharing their own specific life experiences as if they were universally relatable, never considering that they’re asking audiences to treat their own specific flavor of weirdness as if it were normal.

* Edit: Re-reading this, I noticed I was casually tossing out the label “straight, white men,” which is a bad idea in general, but especially since I forgot that not all of the members of that group of most-well-known directors and writers are straight.

Seems like a good reminder not to get so hung up on identity — especially in a post that’s all about finding the universal in our own unique experiences — that you treat it as an opportunity to be dismissive instead of an opportunity to bring a unique voice to a project.

1
Even Cars, although the personal touch is shallower, since as far as I’ve ever been able tell, it’s just “I love Route 66.”

2
Any people; it’s definitely not just an LGBTQ representation issue

1 Even Cars, although the personal touch is shallower, since as far as I’ve ever been able tell, it’s just “I love Route 66.”

2 Any people; it’s definitely not just an LGBTQ representation issue