To belong often means to be settled, usually as part of a community. Weedon explores theories behind belonging and concludes that, “the desire to be from somewhere, to have a sense of roots and a feeling of belonging are key features of the quest for positive identity in postmodern, post-colonial societies” (2004, 85). This understanding of belonging could be applied to Pixar, a studio who, as Price describes it, offer, “a valuable and rare opportunity to examine the cultural form of digital commodities… in relation to recent post-human questions about embodiment, personhood, and the agency of things” (2009, 57).
Cars (Lasseter, 2006) is a film from Pixar’s catalogue in which notions of belonging are particularly prevalent. Cars is useful to examine as a text given it was directed by John Lasseter, who- from as early as his initial animation tests with Luxo Jr. in 1986- has had a heavy influence on the foundations of what is still today engrained within Pixar’s narrative ethos. Cars tells the story of Lighting McQueen, a selfish, young rookie race car who is humbled when circumstance leaves him stuck in a small South-Western town with an eccentric but ultimately communal group, united by their mutual respect for one another.
Lightning McQueen’s character starts the film as egotistical, lacking respect for his elders and authority. He looks down on those he deems to not be on the same social level, which is particularly evident through Lightning’s disgust at being seen associating with his sponsor, the rust removal company, Rust-eze. The group of rusty old cars are presented as dirty and therefore outcast (fig. 1), yet they are also friendly and kind-hearted. Though these latter traits appear lost on Lightning, whose acceptance is only skin-deep. In the opening scenes of the film, McQueen has one logical goal in mind; to win the race and receive a sponsorship from the influential fuel company, Dinoco, allowing him to escape the social stigma he feels being attached to Rust-eze.
McQueen is contrasted against two other racing personalities; the first is Strip ‘The King’ Weathers, a seasoned race car and Dinoco’s sponsored sportsman, a status McQueen desires for himself. Unlike McQueen and the other racers, The King seems unaffected by his fame. He appreciates his fans, though is more interested in the company of his romantic partner- as well as his genuine love for the sport- over winning any competition titles. Directly opposing The King is the film’s most obvious antagonistic character, Chick Hicks. Similarly an aged racer, though an arrogant bad sport who has trailed behind The King his entire career.
An analysis could be made between these three characters using Sigmund Freud’s id, ego, and superego model of the psyche. Hicks represents the id, he is “concerned with immediate gratification of needs”, specifically winning the Piston Cup and surpassing his rivals by any means necessary. The King is symbolic of the superego; he recognises both the morally grey as well as the potential for good within Lightning. The King attempts to usher the rookie on the right path; chastising him for firing his pit crew and working alone, claiming Lightning should “wise up” because he needs “good folks” behind him in order to be successful. Central to both of these is McQueen, the ego. Although Lightning is not inherently bad and does not cheat his way to fame, he lacks the moral empathy and wisdom possessed by The King. Therefore, he could be read to represent, “the realistic part of the psyche”, as he understands his flaws and limitations unlike the brash and crude Hicks (Jackson, 2010, 343).
It is The King’s advice which- unbeknownst to Lightning- follows him on his journey into Radiator Springs. In the small town, Lightning is exposed to a vast array of personalities who offer him lessons in compassion and humility. What McQueen initially refers to as a “hillbilly hell” (fig. 2), eventually becomes the catalyst by which he, “slowly learns to appreciate the pace and values of the country town”. Lightning’s early perception of the town residents is entirely the result of ignorance. At first glance, the ensemble of side-characters are reflective of overblown stereotypes of American South-Western personalities. Rösing observes and supports this notion, claiming, “the people of Radiator Springs form a typical population of off-road towns” (2016, 106). Almost every resident- from the Italian car salesmen, hippie VW, veteran Willys Army Jeep, and Latino tattoo artist- is played as some form as comedic relief. Their overblown and eccentric personalities are used to clash against McQueen’s arrogant reluctance, and the film’s comedic tone stems from how Lightning is otherered because he doesn’t understand the townspeople’s seemingly peculiar way of life.
Throughout the narrative’s first act, McQueen is in a constant rush to achieve his goals. He is desperate to win the Piston Cup and receive the Dinoco sponsorship, to make it to California for the tiebreaker race before Hicks, and later to finish repairing the road through Radiator Springs so he can leave. In this respect, this desire for speed, combined with McQueen’s arrogance and self-prescribed superiority, appear to construct the racer’s initial sense of belonging at the start of the film. McQueen constructs his own identity by believing that he can be emotional fulfilled on his own. The only sense of community McQueen desires is one in which he is at the centre, surrounded by fans and fame. The demonstration of Lightning’s identity at the beginning of Cars may also be considered one which promotes stereotypical masculine authority and dominance. As Gillam and Wooden analyse, Cars’ narrative idolizes the luxurious lifestyle of race car driving in a way in which, “a sense of embodied masculinity reigns supreme, reifying the traits that yet characterize hegemonic American manhood”. (2014, 66). This approach to Lightning’s identity can be understood particularly in terms of his relationship to the narrative’s lead female character, the sleek Porsche, Sally. Immediately as she is introduced, Sally becomes subject to McQueen’s scopophilic gaze when he tells her “your jobs’ pretty easy today, all you have to do now is stand there and let me look at you” (fig.3) during his own court trial. Lightning’s objectification of Sally shows a lack of respect for her powerful position as his attorney, instead only acknowledging her for her physical appearance. This scene is yet another example of McQueen refusing help offered to him, confident in his identity as a solo-figure.
Ultimately, any sense of cohesion is represented as undesirable through the racer’s eyes, until learns how to embrace small town life and its pace through mundane activities such as tractor tipping with Mater, or “driving around without any goal in the beautiful landscape with Sally” (Rösing, 2016, 106).
Besides from Sally and Mater, the other town resident paramount to McQueen’s journey in understanding the importance of community is that of Doc Hudson. Doc’s overall narrative role is as Lightning’s “symbolic father” who teaches Lightning an important lesson in understanding the meaninglessness of the Piston Cup title (Rösing, 2016, 106). As Gillam and Wooden analyse it, Doc is, “handing down knowledge and wisdom from his experience with racing and its business culture, but he also marks a lineage of body type”. Doc not only provides McQueen with the “self-control” and “social conscience” needed to re-establish his identity, he also passes down the mantle of champion and superior masculine figure to McQueen. (2014, 66-67).
In this respect, Lighting’s narrative arc in Cars might be read to have a duel outcome. McQueen is not punished for his patriarchal behaviour, and as Meinel analyses, “although [Sally] intends to educate the arrogant McQueen about the natural beauty of the countryside… these shots portray Carrera in a gender-normative fashion” (2016, 188) (fig. 4). Moreover, Meinel suggests McQueen “epitomizes a narcissistic culture” which is physically represented through the race track, “a space where the beginning is also the end and movement is circular rather than forward”. Although Meinel uses this reading to contrast against the other roads within Cars and a decline of American tradition, this suggestion could be analysed to have a second meaning. The race track is restricted to a constant loop, as so too is McQueen’s behaviour. His desire to race does not change throughout the narrative, and though it is established that Lightning learns how to embrace belonging to a community, he remains trapped on the same moral track (2016, 192).
Despite this, Lightning’s masculinity supposedly develops. He learns from Doc how to take on the mantle of leader of the community, and when the townspeople become Lightning’s pit-crew, they “propel him to become the racing champion he had been aspiring to be throughout the film”. Ultimately McQueen, though, “initially appalled by rural life and constantly mocking its morals… learns the value of community and friendship from the small town inhabitants”. The film ends and all is seemingly well, with McQueen’s sense of belonging being asserted both as a member of the community and as a traditional, patriarchal leader (Meinel, 2016, 188, 202).
A second Pixar film which highlights themes relating to identity and belonging is that of Coco (Unkrich, 2017). The fantasy musical tells the story of Miguel, who deifies the rules of his family in order to pursue his dream of playing music; in the process travelling to the Land of the Dead to connect with his great-great grandfather, a musician. At its core, Coco is a holiday film set during the traditional Mexican festival, Día de Muertos (Day of The Dead). The film explores the intricacies of the holiday through its narrative, and though, "there are no formal guidelines for celebrating… there are several hallmarks” which play a key role in the lore under which the film is governed. In Coco, family alters or ofrendas which are, “decorated with images of the deceased” hold immense power. For Miguel’s family- both alive and passed- the ofrenda is symbolic of remembrance and respect, and its importance is what unifies them. Without a photo on an ofrenda, (or without being in the mind of someone from the living world) one disappears from the Land of the Dead too, in what is referred to as “The Final Death” (fig.5) (Rushing, 2008, 149).
During the text’s first act, Miguel distances himself from his family. They don’t accept his dream to play music or his love for his idol, the local musical hero, Ernesto de la Cruz. Miguel’s family assume he lacks respect for the traditions of Día de Muertos, though the audience is made to understand that this is not the case. In the attic of the Rivera family estate, Miguel conceals his own ofrenda dedicated to de la Cruz (fig.6). The alter is piled high with memorabilia such as films and records of the star, as well as a home-made guitar. The ofrenda in the attic could therefore be understood as the place in which Miguel initially constructs his identity. Miguel feels othered by his family due to their negative stance on music, and so he does not feel as if his belongs. He finds comfort in his secret, and a sense of belonging in his love of music, which he initially believes transcends beyond himself, as a passion he shares with Ernesto.
Even in the Land of the Dead, Miguel feels isolated by his relatives who are blinded by the hatred they feel for Miguel’s great-great grandfather. The boy sets out in pursuit of de la Cruz, confident that the musician is his abhorred ancestor. On his journey we meet Coco’s deuteragonist, Hector, who spends the majority of the narrative as an outcast with little sense of belonging.
Even through physical appearance alone, Hector is constructed as a reject of society. His skeletal figure is yellow and withered, and his clothing torn. The man is represented as a con-artist, though not with malicious intent, rather from desperation of being on the verge of The Final Death. In the Land of the Dead, Hector finds a community at the docks amongst other souls who exist without the love and respect of their living relatives. Here we meet Chicharron, whose appears weakened, in pain, and ultimately suffering until his spirt fades. This scene in particular highlights Coco’s core pro-family message, and could be considered to infer that without the love and connectedness of the family unit, one is destined to suffer and be isolated as they cannot participate in the familial-centric traditions that govern Día de Muertos.
Rushing further explores the meaning behind symbols associated with Día de Muertos, particularly the calaveras, “cartoon-like skeleton figurines… placed on the alter” (2008, 149). The calaveras could directly be associated with how Pixar constructs its character designs. Skeletal characters such as Hector and Ernesto are able to use their body with a level of flexibility and disjointedness unlike any of the human characters. The imperfect and disjointed nature of the skeletons is what makes them humorous, and comedy in Coco derives from the disconnection of limbs, such as Hector contorting his body to dance and other characters using their bones to function in ways beside movement, such as weapons to fight.
In some respects, however, this body mutilation serves as a way in which Hector’s isolation is visually constructed. Hector’s body is far more adaptable to contortion than any other character, presumably the result of his withered bones. Unlike Ernesto, whose spirit is praised and applauded by both the living and the dead, Hector exists on the precipice of neglect. Visually, the difference can be analysed in terms of Ernesto’s character design, whose bones are cleaner and movements closer to the human-like motions of living characters. In direct opposition to this- without the support of his family- Hector is forced to use his own horrific body to his advantage, adapting to situations by dismantling and transforming. Therefore, a connection could be made in terms of Hector’s physical appearance and him lacking a sense of belonging.
Mexican tradition and belonging in Coco extends beyond the ofrenda. Throughout the narrative, Miguel finds companionship with the stray dog, Dante, who- at the climax of the text- is revealed to be an Alebrije, a spirit guide to Miguel. Dante’s role therefore functions as an escort to Miguel in finding a sense of belonging. Though initially represented as an unintelligent animal; Dante is guiding Miguel back on the right path, towards Hector.
Miguel is initially sceptical of Hector’s motivations, though Dante’s knowledge extends beyond the viewers and he understands the hidden familial connection between the two before they do themselves. Dante’s subtle guidance, combined with an accumulation of narrative circumstances, leads Hector to reveal his true identity to Miguel when he states sombrely, “I wish I could tell her that her Papa was trying to come home, that he loved her so much. My Coco”. This climactic reveal and the eventual resolution amongst the Rivera family, both living and dead, unifies those who felt isolated in their difference. Hector’s identity in the living world is recovered when Ernesto is exposed to have stolen his songs and diluted their interpretation from intimate ballads to Coco, into impersonal spectacles. Moreover, Miguel’s narrative journey reaches a resolution in which the protagonist finds a sense of belonging, while not having to abandon his original passion for music.
Throughout Coco’s narrative, Miguel and Hector’s bond grows stronger, particularly when they perform together. Both characters are unified by their talent and passion, and Miguel is able to understand and appreciate music in a new way when he learns Hector is the true mastermind behind the lyrics he had already been inspired by. Ultimately an inference could be made that Coco’s message of belonging through familial connection transcends beyond the spoken word, as Miguel and Hector’s bond is made apparent long before their relation is contextualized and they preach from the cenote pit, “I am proud to be his family!” (fig.7).
To conclude, the Pixar films explored can be evidenced to possess ideas of belonging in regards to the way both narrative and character is constructed. Every text on Pixar’s filmography could similarly be examined to display elements relating to belonging. Though universally, it might be understood that this is not a narrative expectation mutually exclusive to Pixar. Booker refers to heroes’ journey, or The Quest, as a vastly understood basis of narrative in which one of the very fundamental elements relates to a protagonist finding their place in order to be successful and vanquish the antagonistic elements obstructing them. Booker discusses that at the climax of the heroic narrative, the protagonist achieves the “real goal” of “coming together”, “succession”, and “establishing of a kingdom”; a new and improved community in which they belong; all narrative progressions reflected in the texts studied (82, 2004).
Within Cars, belonging and identity is tied strongly to themes of community and found family. Similarly, Coco’s narrative relevance to belonging comes from blood-related family and shared passions, such as music in order to profess emotion.
As to whether the texts studied are successful in their depiction of belonging is objective. In some respects, Cars and Coco both develop their characters in such a way that they grow and learn in order to either become part of a community, fix an existing one, or produce one of their own. On the other hand, however, some negative constrictions can also be evidenced to exist within the film’s narratives. In the instance of Cars, as discussed, McQueen’s narrative arc ends without him ever being particularly punished for his actions. His pride is somewhat damaged when he is made to fix the road through Radiator Springs, though this state is only temporary. By the climax of the narrative, McQueen is praised as a masculine hero and leader, and his indecorous sexual prowess from earlier in the narrative remains unchallenged.
Coco on the other hand projects a message that (for the most part) seemingly disregards Cars’ understanding of belonging. Coco’s characters are isolated without the companionship and mutual respect of their blood-related family. Ernesto de la Cruz exists in the Land of the Dead due to the love and remembrance he receives from his vast array of fans, though at the same time he is represented as greedy and his motivations are exposed as villainous and impure. The only characters visible who deflect from these two fixed identities are the small cameo roles of Mexican popular figures such as artist Frida Carlo and boxer El Santo. Such characters are worshiped in the Land of the Dead similarly to Ernesto, though in the case of Frida, offers good-natured guidance to Miguel to help him achieve his goal. Overall however, both Miguel and Hector’s narrative journeys still ultimately relies upon the love and connectedness of family above all.
Reference List:
·Booker, C. (2004) The Seven Basic Plots: Why we tell stories. London: Continuum.
Gillam, K., & Wooden, S. (2014) Pixar’s Boy Stories: Masculinity in a Postmodern Age. Plymouth: Rowman & Littlefield.
Jackson, R.L. (ed.) (2010) Encyclopedia of Identity. Thousand Oaks, California: SAGE Publications Inc.
Lasseter, J. (dir.) (1986) Luxo Jr. [DVD], Buena Vista Pictures.
Lasseter, J. (dir.) (2006) Cars [DVD], Buena Vista Pictures.· Meinel, P. (2016) Pixar’s America: The Re-Animation of American Myths and Symbols. Chippenham: Palgrave MacMillen.
Price, D.A. (2009) The Pixar Touch: The Making of a Company. United States: Vintage Books.
Rösing, L.M. (2016) Pixar With Lacan: The Hysteric’s Guide to Animation. New York: Bloomsbury Publishing Inc.
Rushing, J.R. (2008) Death Lore: Texas Rituals, Superstitions, and Legends of the Hereafter. United States: Texas Folklore Society.
Unkrich, L. (dir.) (2017) Coco [DVD], Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures.
Weedon, C. (2004) Identity and Culture: Narratives of Difference and Belonging. New York: Open University Press.
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