Inside Out's Existential Crises

Let me start by saying Inside Out is cute and fun with a lot of clever psychology jokes. However, I felt there were some major holes, unanswered questions, and strange implications that were side effects of the film's premise.

First off, Inside Out could be a great example of the things you're not supposed to do in a screenplay. Like narration. Occasionally narration can be okay, even good, but, far more often, it's either lazy storytelling or clearly added because some idiots in a focus group were confused, so execs added narration to spell things out for lowest-common-denominator Americans. At its best, great filmmaking doesn't even require dialogue to tell the story. Inside Out's narration is completely unnecessary, and is worth a sin.

The other screenwriting no-no that bugged me is something I hate any time I see it: internal conflict. Having characters struggle with internal conflict is fine, even great character development, as long as there is some personified antagonist representing that conflict or drawing it out. But when a film lacks an antagonist, I find it lacks conflict, and becomes boring for me personally. Now, I realize I'm basically faulting the movie for its basic premise, so shame on me, I guess.

And, remember, this is coming from a guy who loves Pixar and typically applauds them for their generally clever writing, emotional storytelling, and overall higher quality than DreamWorks.

Now that that's out of the way, let's get into some existential plot holes and paradoxes.

How does the relations between the emotions and Riley work? Joy and friends have a control panel with which they make Riley feel emotions, and they give her ideas. They seem to be controlling her like pilots of a ship. The same is true of all the other humans we see. So are people merely vessels controlled by these emotions? Joy and gang constantly refer to Riley as if she's a separate person. They care about her wellbeing as if it's different from their own. It's not "I" and "me", but "she" and "her." This language suggests that Riley has a separate consciousness from the emotions. Is that part of head not personified? What exactly is the relationship here?

I might be faulting the movie's premise again, but let's talk about the emotions. Each of then seem to experience the full range of emotions. We certainly see Joy experience sadness, anger, fear, and disgust. Which is fine. None of them would be able to undergo any sort of character arc if they were completely one-dimensional representations of their respective emotion. However, if they themselves are capable of feeling other emotions, why do Disgust, Fear, and Anger have so much trouble running Riley while Joy and Sadness are adventuring? Shouldn't they operate more like the Faceless Men of Bravos and be able to switch places willy-nilly? Or what's the point of having the five emotions in the first place if they are all capable of having other feelings? Does Joy have a team of emotions piloting her? Is life just an endless paradox of emotions controlling emotions?

Something else that confuses me is the gender assignment of the emotions. Riley has a mix of masculine and feminine personifications of her emotions, which is fine. I just find it odd that every other head we see in the film has all of their emotions match their body's gender. Men have their emotions personified as a being men. Women's emotions are 100% women. Is is some intentional commentary on Riley's character? Is it suggesting that Riley is still discovering who see is and her emotions will change as she becomes an adult and discovers her identity? Is it some commentary on her future sexuality (the film does keep away from the debunked works of Freud)? Or is it just a gag, because having all the females in Mom being annoyed with all the males in Dad is funny; because gender conflict!

My final existential question is about the opening of the film. Joy comes into existence at Riley's birth. I don't mean to start a religious debate here, but the film is certainly making some statement about a person's perception or lack thereof in the womb vs out. I like to believe Pixar wasn't trying to make such commentary, but, rather were cleverly referencing Lacanian psychology or someone similar with the theory that you don't develop a separate identity from your mother until you've left the womb (and seen yourself in a mirror, according to Lacan).

Sure, I'm a heartless, cold miser for hating on this adorable children's film. But, in my defense, it was also boring and predictable. If it weren't for the clever humor, I probably would've been really disappointed. However, the witty psychology jokes do give Inside Out enough points to earn this one-line review:

"It's still a better movie than Cars."

Why Jurassic World Is Actually Brilliant

The more I reflect on Jurassic World, the more I realize how much I enjoyed it and how brilliant it really is. This review isn't about nitpicking the movie; it has it's fair share of flaws as well as details that I really liked. I also don't want to summarize the film, and I'll try to do this without spoilers.

First off, I was never bored. The action begins early, is really fun, is well shot, and, through very good editing, pacing, and cinematography, the filmmakers effectively created a world of suspense where the dinosaur could be lurking just off-scene at any time. While the plot points were predictable (set up, payoff) like in any Jurassic Park film, the action was not; this suspense kept me guessing and kept me metaphorically on the edge of my seat.

Jurassic Park has always maintained a good track record of making dinosaurs into scary villains that will eat you (Raptors in the kitchen. Need I say more?), but JW is the first entry that has made me actively root against a dinosaur. The movie's hybrid creation Indominus Rex is effectively presented as a homicidal, sociopathic, character, achieving a level of pure hatred among the audience so strong that, when Indominus finally met her demise, a Sunday morning crowd actually cheered. If that's not great character development, I don't know what is.

Also on the well-developed dino list are the raptors. Thanks to Chris Pratt's relationship with them, the raptors are, for the first time in the franchise, truly presented as animals, as opposed to movie monsters. They were scary in the way a trained wolf or tiger is scary; seemingly tamed, but their wild side could come out at any moment. This was something new and refreshing for the JP franchise. While I could offer endless complaints regarding JW's CGI, which doesn't hold a candle to the animatronics of the 1993 original, I will say the raptors looked damn cool when they got to run out in the jungle. Their movement and behavior as they leap over dead trees and scurry along the jungle floor was captured perfectly, adding to the sense that they are animals.

What really made me appreciate Jurassic World was when I realized the movie was an allegory for itself. In the world of the movie, executives order the creation of Indominus Rex to "up the wild factor" and attract an audience who's bored with regular dinosaurs. That's exactly what the movie did! The writers concocted Indominus to attract movie-goers who could be bored with the previous JP films. And all the while, Chris Pratt's voice-of-reason character keeps reminding us, "They're dinosaurs. Wild enough." It's like the whole movie is a big f#@k you to some Universal exec! The film is full of tongue-in-cheek nods to the other films as if to say, "We know we're a cash-in, so we're just going to have fun being  a cash-in." The action is fun and ridiculous, while the humor and nostalgia are well-played and self-aware.

Jurassic World's greatest selling point could possibly be the way it treats its audience. Like this summer's most amazing blockbuster Mad Max: Fury Road (seriously, go see it), Jurassic World doesn't treat us all like idiots. JW trusts that we've all seen its predecessors and that we don't need a refresher course. Well all know who John Hammond and InGen are, and the movie knows that. Little details like that make Jurassic World and Mad Max refreshing exceptions in our current, unbearably oversimplified blockbuster climate.

Is Jurassic World a good movie? No, not at all. Is it as good as the original? No, it might not even be as good as The Lost World (but I like Lost World). Is it a fun, awesome thrill ride that can kick the pants off a Marvel or Transformers film? Absolutely. By far the best dinosaur movie you'll see this year.

My one line review: "Jurassic World is the dinosaur movie I've always wanted and never should've existed."