coco-movie

Coco ★★★

Pixar is a genre onto itself, separate even from the rest of Disney’s animation enterprise. Their scripts are structural masterpieces, attune to the souls of children and adults alike. They’re the most consistently successful Hollywood studio, both thematically and commercially. This decade, though, has been an uneven mixture of sequels (five overall) and a few original pieces that vary from the truly remarkable Inside Out and the truly puzzling The Good DinosaurCoco, their latest release, has the distinction of being their first film focused on a family of Hispanic characters, particularly a family living in a small Mexican village. Though Disney Animation has often made concerted effort to represent a variety of cultures in their films, this is actually the first time that Pixar has made a film about a non-white society.

The Rivera family lives in a nondescript village where they run their generations-long shoemaking business. Their house is run by Abuelita Elena (Renée Victor) with one major rule: no music allowed. The rule has been in place since Elena’s grandmother, Imelda, was abandoned by her husband, a musician, leaving her alone with her young daughter, Coco. Coco, still alive, sits mostly silently, wrinkled and decrepit, the only one with any living memory of that lost musician. Coco’s great-grandson, Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez), is the youngest of the Rivera clan, and is already being prepped for a life as a cobbler like the rest of the family. Secretly, Miguel harbors a love of music and possesses a natural talent on the guitar. He taught himself by watching videos of Mexico’s most famous musician, and Miguel’s idol, Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt).

On Dia de los Muertos, Miguel defies his family and attempts to enter his village’s music competition, hoping to break free of his legacy in shoemaking and pursue music. This brings great anguish to Abuelita Elena, and the rest of the family, who try to convince him to reject his natural calling. When Miguel runs away and attempts to steal Ernesto de la Cruz’s guitar from the dead star’s cherished tomb, Miguel finds himself transported into the Land of the Dead. He meets members of his family, including the notorious Imelda (Alanna Ubach), all in the form of skeletons of varying quality. Miguel also meets Hector (Gael García Bernal), a lonely soul with only one person left to remember him in the Land of the Living. Hector agrees to help Miguel meet Ernesto de la Cruz, where Miguel hopes to finally show his talents to someone who will appreciate them. In exchange, Miguel must help Hector’s family remember him, so he can go on living in the Land of the Dead.

In a lot of ways, Coco is more of the same. Like a lot of Pixar’s films, it speaks to childrens’ individualistic soul while still imparting a lesson that helps these same children appreciate what’s around them. Pixar has commercialized growing up, monetized the pain of getting older, profited off our dedication to memory. Pixar has been around so long that the formula is starting to show, but that doesn’t mean the effect has begun to wear off, at least not for me. But Coco being about a Mexican family – and the film’s embrace of many Hispanic cultural touchstones – is no small thing. In a time when America becomes more Spanish, when the language presents an invaluable advantage to success, a film like Coco shouldn’t feel so unique, and yet it does. When has major Hollywood release ever been allowed a movie to be this non-American? And does this explain why Coco‘s marketing was so noticeably un-aggressive compared to other Pixar films?

In 2014, Guillermo del Toro produced his own animated film about Mexican culture called The Book of Life, which like Coco deals with the lore of Dia de los Muertos and uses music to translate Mexican culture. The films work well together as companion pieces than as competitive rivals. Book of Life‘s filmmakers were almost all Hispanic, while the voice cast was filled with mostly actors like Channing Tatum, Ron Perlman and Ice Cube. Coco‘s voice cast is nearly unanimously Latin, while its filmmakers, writers and animators are the usual suspects within the studio, led by one of its most consistent directors, Lee Unkrich (the listed co-director Adrian Molina is a Mexican-American). Yet, both films still feel remarkably refreshing in view of our usual, White-centric audience expectations. The Book of Life was a solid hit, while Coco‘s box office numbers have been substantial. There is a market for these films if Hollywood is willing to notice.

Coco is not as good as Pixar’s best. It doesn’t hold quite the same heft as The Incredibles or WALL-E, and like Inside Out, it relies a bit too much on its emotional punch to make up for a plot that’s been recreated so many times. And yet, I found myself tearing up at some of the film’s many poignant moments in its conclusion. My family is Cuban, with little of the specific cultural details shared with the Rivera family in Coco, but just seeing Abuelitas and ofrendas and música represented in such a way effected me in ways I wasn’t expecting. Representation is a major part of identity, and sometimes it takes a little representation to realize that there really hasn’t been much to begin with.

 

Directed by Lee Unkrich, co-directed by Adrian Molina