Tag: movies

The Big Sleep (1946): The Missing Chapter

~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment

In honor of Thanksgiving tryptophan, I’m pulling this Big Sleep reflection from my personal archives. I wrote this back in 2015 after seeing the movie for the second time.

Perhaps the most famous story about the making of the Humphrey Bogart movie The Big Sleep is the unsolved puzzle of who killed chauffeur Owen Taylor. Brody seems genuine in his surprise at the idea of a second murder being laid at his feet. Eddie Marrs didn’t do it (or order it done) because he really didn’t seem to know about Geiger’s death until confronting Marlowe in Geiger’s house, and therefore would have no reason to harm Taylor. Karol the punk kid might have done it, believing that Taylor had killed Geiger, but if that’s the case what made him change his mind later and (incorrectly) blame Brody and kill him?

Actually that’s a valid question regardless. The day after Geiger’s murder, Karol is helping Brody clear out Geiger’s shop—but later guns down Brody, apparently as revenge. So maybe Karol was merely playing along with Brody long enough to get his departed boss’s affairs in order . . . or maybe Karol didn’t blame Brody until Marrs just happened to point Karol in that direction. Or maybe Carmen, vexed at not getting her way in Brody’s apartment, broke away from her sister and immediately called up Karol (knowing how to contact him through their long association via Geiger) and pinned the blame on Brody. Perhaps Carmen had even brought along Karol to begin with, to act as backup in case her attempt to retrieve the photos went wrong.

So it’s possible Karol killed Taylor (sure Taylor had killed Geiger) and then was later misled into thinking Brody was really the one who killed Geiger.

I can work out a better answer, though.

Agnes did it. Or had a hand in it. For reasons of her own she was tailing Brody that night and saw Brody knock out Taylor and steal from him; but Brody left thinking Taylor was still alive. Checking up on Brody’s actions, she found Taylor dead or near death and decided to take care of the evidence and set up the car-crash-into-the-ocean scenario.

It might go something like this:

Joe Brody wasn’t much of a man, try as she might to change this fact, but Agnes needed him. Not needed him in the cheap and helpless way of a desperate magazine heroine, like a sap, but in the practical way, the way a carpenter needs a hammer, as a tool to build the thing she needed, and who cared what happened to him after that, she could always get another at any dime store. They were common as dirt.

So it wasn’t out of sentiment or grief or anything so childish as jealousy that she was tailing her man that night, driving around in her own car, a car he’d seen her in a hundred times before but which he never once noticed following him around all evening, he was just that stupid; no, it was pure, unvarnished self-interest that kept her on the road, carefully hanging back just the right amount to keep him in view without drawing attention to herself. She had an idea the fool was getting sweet on that spoiled rich floozy Carmen Sternworth, the one he was so eager to blackmail, and she needed to know if that was true so she could make the proper plans to snip the bud off that flower before it bloomed.

It would not do at all if Joe Brody turned his head to another woman at this point. All her schemes depended on him being completely nuts about Agnes herself.

They ended up at the Geiger house—no surprise. Pretty soon the money-bleeding floozy showed up too—again, no surprise. Life was sure a kick in the teeth—Agnes had always had to scrap and scrape for every last nickel, every red cent, despite how tough and smart and careful she was, but here was this walking store-window dummy without a brain in her head or a rat’s worth of sense, floating around high and carefree just because her daddy happened to have a ton of money. It was unfair, that’s what it was, that the stupid and worthless ended up wealthy while the harder you worked and the more you deserved a good shot the faster life seemed to knock you down the ladder before you could get anywhere. This time it looked like that shove was going to come, as it so often did, in the form of a man who did you wrong just when things were about to go right.
<Agnes leaves her car to spy from a better position; soon there is a gunshot, a scream, a flash; the chauffeur flees; Brody chases him; Agnes needs time to get back to her car but eventually finds Taylor in the car; Brody has already left, but she goes to the car window to see what’s happened>
The heap of humanity slumped over the steering wheel made a moan—maybe its last. She’d seen plenty of men get whopped in the head in her day, and knew sometimes you made it and sometimes you didn’t. Even the blows that didn’t take you right away could still do you in before you ever woke up enough to know it. Was this going to be one of those times?

Agnes watched for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. Nobody was around to see, but at the first sign of anyone approaching she would scream. An easy story, especially for a woman, who would naturally be believed: she’d seen the car, parked in an odd place, and gotten out to see what was wrong, then stared at the man in shock until finally finding her voice. No trouble making that one stick, the way she’d lay it on if a witness appeared.

Then the man in the driver’s seat had a convulsion—almost too small for the word, more like a shudder and a tremble—and wheezed once, then never again.

Yes, he was dead, all right, and Brody had killed him, though the idiot didn’t know it. Knowing someone was alive when you left him won’t keep judge and jury from hanging you once they’re sure you’re the one who whacked him. But any business like that would get in Agnes’s way even more than a wandering eye and a useless heiress might. She wasn’t sure if anyone could tie Brody to the dead man or not, to point the investigation in his direction, but no need to take chances.
<Agnes gets the car to the right place, sets it up to roll to the pier, and leaves>
Just like a man not to clean up his own messes. And just like a woman, too, to clean it up for him and never even say a word to let him know what she’d done. You didn’t get any gratitude when you were a woman—either they didn’t know you’d done anything at all, because they were stupid, or they knew it but just took it for granted, smug and sure in their misbegotten belief that that’s what women were around for anyway, to clean up so men wouldn’t have to.

Well, just you wait, Joe Brody, Agnes thought to herself with a smile, I’m gonna clean up all right!

Coping With Urusei Yatsura Movie 4: Lum the Forever (1986)

~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment

Trying to Explic the Inexplicable

In honor of the movie’s U.S. blu-ray release on the 28th of June (2022) . . .

The anime series Urusei Yatsura (colloquially translated as something like “Buncha Alien Jerks” or “Those Obnoxious Aliens”), based on the manga by Rumiko Takahashi, has more than its share of weirdness, to put it mildly. Viewers of the show were treated to quite a lot of absurdity, oddness, nonsense, and unfamiliar imagery. Nowadays UY is likely best known through the second movie, Beautiful Dreamer, but probably nothing in the entire animated franchise is more surreal and unreal than the fourth movie, Lum the Forever.

It deals with supernatural themes and mysterious disappearances. It doesn’t explain things that happen. It shows things that don’t seem logical even within the story. Was it badly written? Was it sloppy film-making? Was the director being deliberately incomprehensible to thumb his nose at the world? Did we the viewers simply miss things by not paying attention?

I won’t claim to understand everything about Lum the Forever, but here are some thoughts I wrote down the last time I watched it, a few years back (with a tiny bit added here and there).

• This movie is aimed at people with a passionate knowledge of the regular TV series, made by hardcore fans for hardcore fans. The kind of people who can catch a subtle reference to a single episode that aired three years earlier and say to themselves, “Oh yeah! I remember that!” From Sakura’s yokai friends to the air-breathing capsule to Megane’s armor to the reason Kotatsu-Neko might disappear, there are a host of things new viewers or casual viewers would simply be baffled by. And the movie already has more than enough to be confused by without people asking why on earth Ataru would stuff a pickled plum in Lum’s mouth.

It’s practically a given that a movie based on a TV series will reward (or pander to) the fanbase by throwing in little treats—character cameos, inside jokes, a significant object sitting in the background. What’s different in Lum the Forever is that those insider treats are actually relevant within the plot, and the filmmakers still made no effort to explain them.

• Just before she enters the water in one scene, Lum puts something in her mouth—not a single thing is said about it, but it must be one of the air-breathing tablets shown in the episode where the group visits Mendou’s aquarium and tries to bring the “pool ghoul” back together with his true love. Which explains how Lum can breathe while she’s stuck underwater all that time.

• It’s useful to recall that Kotatsu-Neko is not just a giant cat who drinks tea at a kotatsu, he’s a giant ghost cat who drinks tea at a kotatsu.

• They never do tell us the original ending of the “Legend of the Oni Princess.” This is a significant shortcoming in the film. The movie shows Ataru, Mendou, and Megane going to visit Mendou’s grandfather, but we never actually see him. Surely there was meant to be a scene with the grandfather outlining the whole legend, but it must have been cut, resulting in the absence of a crucial piece of the story. 

Perhaps in the legend the Oni princess gave birth (literally or figuratively) to the next demon-confining tree: one tree dies, but the Oni births the next tree, and thus the evil spirits are controlled once more. It could be that she died and was buried and became the next tree. Did the legend say something about the Oni princess becoming a companion to the area’s guardian spirit and thus placating that spirit? Could it be that the Oni became the wife of the guardian spirit and they were together parents to the new tree?

• The “Battle Champion Mendou” dream is much too long. For this we lost a segment explaining that legend?

• Mendou’s words at the town assembly might lead one to believe that Tomobiki town wants to get rid of Lum, to expel her from itself, because she is a “foreign particle” (like an infection). However, it seems instead that Tomobiki wants Lum as a friend. (Or lover?) Everyone else is essentially part of Tomobiki and only Lum, as something other than Tomobiki, is a suitable companion. (This is the sense behind the answer to Ran’s remark that she’s also an alien: yes, Ran is also foreign to the town, but she’s just not worth talking to.) The question then becomes why Tomobiki would make everyone else forget Lum, but apparently this is a way of making sure Tomobiki can keep Lum to itself (if people in the town missed Lum and felt a longing for her, that might awaken her and pull her away).

• Mendou starts the war with the Mizunikojis believing that if life becomes horrible enough, everyone in Tomobiki will be unified in the single desire to have things go back to the way they used to be. Mendou expects that this will somehow make the consciousness of Tomobiki release them from the dream world they’re trapped in, presumably by waking up that consciousness. Apparently this is what occurs, combined, however, with Ataru waking up Lum through his desire to see her again (Lum and Tomobiki are shaken from their dream communion at the same moment and therefore the “spell” around the town is broken).

• This movie does a poignant job suggesting that everyone would have been better off if Lum had never been around.

A good site for learning more about Urusei Yatsura is http://www.furinkan.com/uy/index.html. (I have no affiliation with them; it’s just an honest recommendation.)

Reflections: The Secret of NIMH (1982)

~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment
photo of the cover of the blu-ray release of the 1982 movie The Secret of NIMH, focussed on a cutely drawn mouse holding an amulet with a reflective red stone

1. The Nostalgic Part
This is another one of those movies I loved as a child, fascinated by and drawn to the dangerous, frightening parts: strange experiments changing you into something you weren’t, companions perishing in a desperate escape, wounds that bleed.

For me this movie has always been blanketed with a layer of tragedy. Bambi is famous for traumatizing children with their first dose of animated death, but in my childhood it was Secret of NIMH that stood out for the weight of physical danger and horrible things being done to you against your will. I wasn’t in any doubt about what happened to those mice that fell down the shaft during the escape, or about the fact that the experiments were horribly painful to the rats. By this time I had seen Star Wars, Clash of the Titans,  and Dragonslayer, but the violence in those live-action movies didn’t affect me the way things in NIMH did. Was NIMH more disturbing because it was less glaringly fantasy-based; because the movie kept things more mysterious; or simply because the story was more intimate so I cared more about the characters? Or was it maybe because all the live-action heroes were fighting back, and the animated mice and rats were so terribly helpless?

2. The Background
The movie is based on a book, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O’Brian, published in 1971. I haven’t read it, but I’ve heard the film changed a lot, which is what you’d expect.

The movie changed the lead character’s name from Frisby to Brisby, and common wisdom says it was to avoid connection with the brand name of a certain “flying disc.” I suspect common wisdom is right, whether that was a legal move necessitated by trademark concerns or simply a worry that her name would make people laugh.

Then much more than now, it was tough to get an animated movie on the theater screen if you weren’t Disney. (This was also before VCRs were common, so there wasn’t even a direct-to-video market.) But this is one of the few that managed it. Don Bluth and his team were helping to blaze a trail for non-Disney animation to be produced and released in the U.S.

3. Scattered Things
Evidently this movie was rated G by people who saw that it was a cartoon and didn’t bother to watch it. It includes vibrant red blood, a deliberate murder, another deliberate killing that was either an effort to save someone else or a bit of revenge (or both), and talk about torture and hearing the screams of laboratory animals at night. The main character is a widow whose husband’s death is the first thing you hear about in the movie. There’s also a quick curse word (spoken by one of the good guys, no less), and I have a suspicion it was thrown in by the filmmakers so the movie would be PG. To no avail.

The movie does an impressive job creating an air of menace and danger in multiple scenes with different threats. Mrs. Brisby is at the mercy of a whole lot of things, whether it’s larger animals or human decisions or illness affecting her children.

I thought the clumsy bird was a crow, but he’s just tiny compared to the cat. On the other hand, the movie—set in North America!—also shows a spider that’s three times the size of a mouse, so I think the animators were a bit unreliable regarding scale.

There’s a quick mention by Mrs. Brisby that her children are better at reading than she is—and while it’s true that learning as a child can be faster than learning as an adult, this is definitely a little nod to the fact that her husband was more than an ordinary mouse and has passed things on to their children.

I am always gripped by scenes of radiant transcendent power summoned by great emotional need to accomplish the impossible just when all hope is gone. And yet I can’t help feeling Secret of NIMH should’ve avoided mixing magic with the science fiction. The amulet, Nicodemus’s whirligig device that shows images from the past, and the rosebush vines that move and rearrange themselves are things I can’t square with the notion that the rats owe their secret world to the intelligence produced in them by medical experimentation.

Before I rewatched this movie, my memory had no doubt that Mrs. Brisby ends up with Justin, the captain of the guard. My memory is wrong. They’re clearly drawn to each other, I wasn’t inventing that, but there’s no hint that they become a couple once the action is over. Which is pretty reasonable but not typical for animated films.

Reflections: Dragonslayer (1981)

~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment
photo of the cover for a DVD release of the 1981 movie Dragonslayer, showing a dragon flying in the upper right corner and the hero crouching with spear and shield in the lower left corner
Cover of one DVD release of Dragonslayer

1. Movie Background
Dragonslayer is one of those movies you know was made before the PG-13 rating existed, because there’s no way it would’ve gotten a simple PG otherwise. On the other hand, the more-than-PG material isn’t a large portion of the movie, so the studio might’ve chosen to simply trim out some shots to secure a PG and keep the younger audience dollars intact. (And it’s not so much the main dragon fight as the underwater semi-nudity and a sprinkling of gore, since action violence gets more allowance than other non-child content.)

Offhand, I don’t know what made a movie studio put out a sword-and-sorcery fantasy film in 1981. (It wasn’t made in response to Clash of the Titans, because the two movies would’ve been in production at the same time.) Star Wars and its many coattail-riders were still the big thing, not castles and dragons and wizards. I don’t know when Dungeons and Dragons began its 1980s rise, but Dragonslayer did come out before the D&D cartoon and action figures, and also before He-Man.

Then again, there’s Thundarr the Barbarian and Blackstar. IMDB tells me Thundarr was around in 1980 and Blackstar started airing in late 1981. (I thought Blackstar was later, but I guess I won’t argue.) So there was something going on with entertainment in this area.

(Also, an extra nod to Blackstar, a mainstream Saturday-morning cartoon whose hero was specifically identified as a Native American and whose heritage wasn’t, to my memory, played for stereotypes. All the way back then.)

2. The Nostalgic Part
I saw this movie in the theater. I have a suspicion my mother would not have allowed that if she’d known what all was in it. Somehow instead of being frightened by the scary stuff I was fascinated and really enjoyed it. I do remember, though, that at the part where the two leads end up swimming together and the big revelation ensues, I didn’t understand what was going on and had to ask. Watching it now the visuals are clear enough, but either I blinked or I was simply less attuned to the different curvatures of human sexes. (This scene is not wildly explicit, but it’s not especially vague either.) When I first saw it, I didn’t understand why the character had been pretending, but I didn’t worry about it.

I remember playing Dragonslayer in the back yard, crouching down with a make-believe shield and imagining the giant dragon above me ready to breathe down fire.

I also remember, though, my utterly unreasonable prejudice against the hero’s short, curly hair. It just seemed frivolous. Heroes weren’t supposed to have hair like that, in my mind.

3. Points of Interest
By and large, the moviemakers didn’t try to show more than they knew their special effects crew could manage. Compared to Clash of the Titans, this movie is less ambitious, and therefore more visually convincing. It helps, of course, that the dragon is mostly seen in dark, tight caves or flying in the distance at night. In fact the cave scenes are quite effective in showing the menace of this creature in a way that the Kraken fight did not. An effect I especially liked was the sheets of flame moving across the surface of a lake, which I’m guessing was done with simple gasoline but looks great.

There’s a virgin sacrifice who does not stand trembling with shrieks or weeping, or even pleading, but actively fights to get loose and escape. Working resolutely before the dragon appears, she bloodies her hands and wrists to get loose from her manacles, and even when the creature approaches doesn’t scream until she’s actually lifted into the air. There would be nothing wrong with screaming in her situation, but the filmmakers’ choice to have this minor, unnamed character act with fierce determination instead of the conventional helpless-victim routine deserves extra appreciation.

While we’re on the subject, we see another young woman sacrificed, and she is there through her own courage and moral sense of justice. Even when she’s freed she boldly steps forward to go on and meet this fate—knowing what will happen to her, but accepting it because she believes this will save the kingdom and running would make things worse for everyone. She doesn’t need to die, but her reasons aren’t stupid.

Like those two, the female lead of the story is, throughout, courageous and bold and determined. These three are the only women who stay on camera more than five seconds, but they display their bravery despite a scenario in which screaming, wailing, or cowering would be the more typical movie portrayal. They aren’t helpless or passive or mere objects: they have agency and they use it, whether the effort succeeds or not.

Including a Christian priest seems like a setup for a cheap swipe at religion . . . and in some ways it is, eventually . . . but all the same he shows himself to be steadfast and faithful, not a hypocrite or a punchline like I was expecting.

In the middle of the movie there’s a scene where the unlikable villain-esque king condemns the hero as a self-appointed savior who has meddled in things without any idea what the consequences will be. The king is the bad guy of the movie, second to the dragon, but in this speech he is entirely and utterly correct in what he says about the hero. And events prove him right.

At one point the female lead tells the hero, in essence, “We failed. We’d better just leave town before things get worse.” And the hero . . . agrees. Off they go. The movie won’t be complete unless they eventually turn back, but when she brings it up there are no arguments about abandoning other people or running away from the mess you made or unfairness to anyone else, just the acknowledgment that circumstances are terrible and it would be very impractical to stick around. This is unusual for an action hero.

Dragonslayer fundamentally takes itself seriously, as a movie should if it means to frighten you with a deadly dragon. Unusually, it treats sacrificial maidens as being real people, not just screaming audience-bait. There’s a good bit of humor mixed in, but it’s basically in the things characters say (along with a bit of satire at the end aimed at kingly pretension), while the events and actions are treated as bearing real costs and consequences, resulting in significant danger when people make the wrong decisions. Maybe the movie didn’t need quite so much engagement with the baby dragons, though.

Reflections: Turning Red (2022)

~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment

SPOILER alert: I don’t normally bother with spoiler warnings, but this movie is fresh in the world, unlike most of the things I write about, so be aware that I’m writing as if the reader has already seen the film and knows all the turns the plot takes.

Great stories carry universal themes within the vessel of a specific, closely defined context. One thing such stories do is allow you to connect with one aspect of what’s happening while learning about other aspects you’re less familiar with.

There can be multiple themes in one story, and Turning Red isn’t “about” only one thing. It’s about:

• allowing yourself to feel and to express your own emotions, when other people don’t want you to

• friendship as the nest of comfort encasing you so you are safe to experience difficult feelings

• inter-generational trauma

• puberty

• the cost of hiding things from your children that they are going to have to deal with, whether those are biological realities or family history or something else

• guilt and shame, and the dangers of burying them

• the painful process of separating from your parents as you grow older

• children struggling to protect the emotional well-being of their parents

• going overboard and taking things too far while trying to protect someone you love

• family coming together, or staying together, despite conflicts

• mother-daughter dynamics specific to Chinese culture and how those dynamics interact with a Western cultural environment

• people turning into adorable fluffy talking animals

As a viewer you probably won’t relate to every one of those things, in the sense of having gone through them yourself, but that’s okay. Most people will recognize several of those concerns from their own lives or the lives of those they care about, although the experiences won’t match precisely.

The closer you are to the context portrayed in the film—being a 13-year-old-girl of Cantonese-speaking Chinese heritage growing up in a temple in Toronto in 2002—the more you might find in the film that resonates with your life, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is left out. You can still connect to Meilin and her emotions despite differences in biographical data, just like you can read and appreciate Oliver Twist without ever having been an orphaned English boy with possible family secrets growing up in the slums of Victorian-era London under the malevolent eye of a master pickpocket.

Why “Turning Red”? Why a red panda?

As the film points out, in Chinese culture red means good luck. In Western culture, red often means anger. (It can also mean blushing.) In plenty of cultures red suggests blood, and in this movie it’s impossible to ignore the connection to menstrual blood. (Notice Meilin’s mother using the euphemism “red peony.”)

Oh, right—we also use red to symbolize sexual desire.

The red panda isn’t simply a metaphor for menstruation or puberty. Or simply a metaphor for uncontrolled anger (and other feelings). It’s some of both, and it’s also lucky, providing the means for Meilin to get free of emotional quicksand, and we are reminded more than once that the ability to change into a red panda was supposed to be a blessing, not a curse.

(But there again we run into a menstruation euphemism, this time Western, referring to it as “the curse” when it doesn’t have to be viewed as one.)

A lot of filmmakers would’ve made the main character a loner or given her just a single friend. Not only is Meilin part of a crew, but her friends are the very reason she can manage her inner panda so well.

One suspects her mother did not have close friends when this was happening to her.

So far I’ve only seen Turning Red once, and I don’t remember how specific the film is about when Meilin’s mother first turned panda, or even if she only changed once (when the incident occurred).

But:
– When we see her in the bamboo forest she looks older than Meilin.
– Her parents are surprised this happened to Meilin this young, so much so that her mother’s first response is “period” and not “panda.” (If we accept this as more than just a movie trick to make the eventual reveal more surprising.)
– We know that when she went feral she was already seriously dating her future husband.

It may be that her inner panda is SO much bigger and SO much more destructive than Meilin’s because she kept it in too long, steadfastly suppressing her feelings because she refused to push back against her mother’s grip. (Until.)

Meilin, though, is younger when she first allows herself to have a conflict with her mother, and therefore her panda emerges earlier in her life.

Let’s not forget that the red panda was given to women of this family to act as a defense. Its very existence is explicitly defined as a way to protect the family from harm, and that includes protecting yourself.

It’s sad that Meilin’s grandmother and aunties feel the need to seal their panda sides away again, but it’s not a mixed message. These women have spent the vast majority of their lives with those red panda spirits locked away, and they simply lack the means to cope with them in day to day living. Just “learning a valuable lesson” isn’t enough to address that.

That is not to say it’s too late for the grandmother and aunties, only that if they want to integrate their inner pandas it’s going to be a gradual process and they’ll need slow, steady adjustments to reach a point where they can handle it. Not merely “Meilin showed us the way so now it’s easy!” I deeply respect the filmmakers’ choice to stick with the reality of people’s capacity to change rather than taking the happier ending.

It is essential to Turning Red that Meilin had her friends before she had a secret. Not because those girls wouldn’t have been able to move beyond the weirdness and get to know her, but because she would not have been able to give herself to them while trying to hold that secret inside.

There’s a moment in the film that would’ve been the emotional climax or major turning point in many other movies: Meilin goes to the party in the cardboard panda suit, and the crowd doesn’t like her. She has to turn into the real fluffy panda before the other kids care. Obviously this will spark Meilin’s moment of realization: “They don’t want me, none of this popularity is about who I am, it’s all about the panda, it’s fake and shallow and I can’t believe I thought they liked me!” Right?

Nope. In Turning Red this isn’t even a ripple on the water. There are bigger fish to catch, thematically; and popularity and acceptance by the larger group has never been Meilin’s goal. Think about that: a movie about a thirteen-year-old that gives her sudden access to broad popularity for the first time, and while she’s certainly enjoying it, it isn’t what matters to her.

And when, in Miriam’s words, she throws her friends under the bus, it’s not because she forgot them while chasing social glories (teen story plot #302); she does it because she’s afraid of/doesn’t want to disappoint her mother. This is a critical distinction in the direction and focus of Turning Red.

On the subject of whether Turning Red is a “realistic” portrayal of thirteen-year-olds, I have two observations.

1. In real life, Meilin’s drawings of Daisy Mart Devon would probably have been made over two or three days, not all in one steamy evening. But this is a movie and they have less than two hours to tell the whole story, so they’ve condensed things a little.

2. When Meilin and Tyler see each other again at the concert, the first time since she attacked him, I don’t understand why he has no particular reaction. Whatever apology her mother would’ve made her recite at the end of the party would not be enough. We did avoid the lying macho bravado of “What? I wasn’t really scared!” and I would thank the filmmakers for that if they had given us something else instead. But I saw nothing, not even a glare from him. Tyler gets pulled into the group, Meilin reappears, and he’s happy and easy-going. That part doesn’t feel quite right. (Maybe I overlooked something I’ll notice the next time I watch it?)

The one criticism of the movie I’ve seen that has any standing is that “it constantly uses Black culture but has no Black main characters.” The historical reality is that back in 2002 and before, white boy bands were shamelessly appropriating dance moves, hand gestures, clothing styles, speech patterns, and slang that came from Black communities. (To what degree Latinx communities contributed I don’t know enough to say.) Turning Red reflects that reality, and it would be unfair to blame the film for the actual cultural theft. It also seems pretty true to life that the teenage characters would not be aware of this as being appropriation: to them it’s “boy band culture” and they haven’t reflected on it more deeply that that, because most non-Black kids at the time probably didn’t.

Still, “that’s how it was” is not enough to wash away all of a movie’s responsibility on a subject. When you’re creating a fictional story, you don’t have to faithfully reproduce every single aspect of the time period you’re looking at. After all, the filmmakers proudly stepped forward to offer us a boy band 8000% more diverse and inclusive than the ones that actually existed. Indeed one of the band members, the one our protagonist is most obsessed with, who therefore gets the most screen time, is Black. Even if you think that’s not enough, it should not be overlooked.

Should the film have done more to balance its use of appropriated Black cultural elements? Possibly. How much responsibility does it bear for addressing a situation it reflects but did not create? I’m not sure. Some.

I’m not clear on what the answer should be, but I do see there’s a valid question here.

This is one of my favorite Pixar films. And I’ve never even been to Toronto.