Finding Substance
by Robert S. Jersak

At my nephew’s birthday party, six morose goldfish hovered in their neatly tied poly-bags, adrift on the tabletop in a sea of Finding Nemo paraphernalia: plates, napkins, cups and candles. This was to be the year I vowed not to see Pixar’s latest mass-market campaign (actually, every year that Pixar has been making pictures, I‘ve made that vow), and this would be the year I stuck to it, by gar. I mean, what’s to see? The trailer promised farts, belches and rollercoaster visuals. The wrapping paper touted more doe-eyed anthropomorphized heroes, slapped together in an Odd-Couple buddy-type sitcom circumstance. As I came up with these objections, the wee party tots grabbed their very real and somewhat lucid pre-packaged pets with vigor, making waves at the top of the sacks. I winced. I broke my vow and saw the film.

Damn me to a landfill of Treasure Planet Happy Meals, but I enjoyed it. Its characters are convincing, its circumstances are plausible, its animation is elegant and its heart is actually beating. I have to say it: Finding Nemo is not only an excellent film for a hyperactive low-substance summer, but a good film that can stand on its own two, er, fins.

The set-up is brisk. Due to a tragic encounter (which is smartly implied, and not depicted) the titular character Nemo emerges as the sole surviving fry of a middle-class-made-good clownfish family. He is also saddled with a severely under-developed right fin, and as a consequence his widower father Marlin smothers him with crushing over-protective concern and constant anxiety. When Nemo begins to stretch the perception of his ability, his father holds him back: “You think you can do these things, but you can’t!” Yet Nemo disobeys his father, swims out into open unprotected water, and is snatched by a masked diver and hoisted aboard a speedboat. Dad (voiced by Albert Brooks) gives chase, but can’t keep up. Nemo is plopped in a dentist’s aquarium, where he meets a beleaguered cadre of domestic survivors itching for their release. At the same time, Marlin encounters every type of deep sea creature he’s ever feared, but shares his sad story in order to find a way to his lost son. Two perilous parallel journeys of self-discovery unfold.

Pixar, against all odds and focus group studies, manages again to make an ethereal computer-generated film into a thing of real substance. One might argue that Toy Story, their first feature film, is an exploration of the contemporary male identity crisis. In A Bug’s Life, imperialist aggressors become the producers of their own demise (with the aid of the individual spirit). Toy Story 2 rejects the identification of human value with celebrity status. In Monsters Inc, a former guardian of the exploitative fuel infrastructure seeks a more humane form of energy. And now in Finding Nemo, we have the success, the heroic ability, of the disabled.

Rather than depict the villain with a crippling abnormality (see: Shrek), Finding Nemo imbues three of its main characters - Nemo, Dory and Gill - with disabilities, and then shows how their own will and determination ultimately lifts them above their adversity, and inspires others to do so as well. It’s a satisfying subtext, and it constantly keeps the film from becoming more than a beautiful screensaver.

Certainly, one might argue that I’ve read too much into these popular animated films -- "it's just meant to be enjoyed,” as Walt Disney might have said. And perhaps one of the other key themes of the film, leaving fish in the waters where they belong, is lost on its audience (as my nephew’s party favors certainly would suggest). Pixar’s hardly to blame; time after time, film after film, from toyboxes to fishtanks, there exists something real in their films, something that runs deeper than their set-ups and plush characters might suggest, something that pertains to our experiences and journeys, without mocking them.

The films, beautifully rendered as well, inspire awe. For these reasons, watching Pixar’s work is bearing witness to a great animation studio in its golden age – akin to watching the Animagic specials of Rankin-Bass in the 1960s and 70s, Studio Ghibli’s masterful anime of the 1980s to present, or even Disney’s own productions of the 1940s and 50s. As Pixar becomes an independent entity, solely relying on Disney as distributor, it will be interesting to see if the studio lets its artists experiment with the medium and create something thematically or aesthetically different. The trailer for The Incredibles, shown before Finding Nemo, certainly doesn’t suggest so, despite the influence of Iron Giant director and Pixar newcomer Brad Bird. In fact, the trailer alludes to nothing more than a Buzz Lightyear disillusioned superhero retread. It’s enough to make me wonder if Pixar has finally lost their Midas touch. In fact, I vow not to go see it, not to eventually be surprised and entertained once more, despite my preconceptions.

©2003 Robert S. Jersak
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