Pixar's Elemental Teaches Us How to Navigate a World Not Designed for Us
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Once upon a time, Pixar churned out hit after hit after hit, and by hits I mean stories that hit hard in a way we never quite expected from an animated feature. Toy Story 2 was an unlikely sequel that broke your heart into more pieces than the first Toy Story. How could that even happen when Toy Story was almost damned near perfect? But Pixar continued to delight and deliver, from stories about monsters to superhero families to forgetful fish. There was kind of an inexpressible magic to it all that squeezed your heart so hard it made you weep and feel alive at the same time.
There’s still magic, sometimes. But there’s just a little less of it, and the stories no longer feel like they’ve been finely-tuned to destroy you. Maybe it’s futile to try and pinpoint what’s changed, exactly, even if much has changed over at Pixar itself, but a string of unexceptional, if earnest, stories about elves in vans and Italian mermen have made it plain that the studio is no longer the pinnacle of storytelling it once was.
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The short that accompanies Elemental, Pixar’s latest feature, is simply another example of how much the studio has lost its way. Entitled Carl’s Date, it features Ed Asner in his last voice acting role as Up’s Carl Fredricksen preparing for a date. Maybe it’s kind of selfish of the audience to not want to see Carl move on from Ellie, but the first ten minutes of Up might be the most powerful, heartbreaking, and certainly tear-jerking sequence in all of Pixar’s animated history.
The story of Carl and Ellie is essentially what drives the plot of Up, and hooking us all in during that flashback, with virtually no dialogue, is what got us all invested in Carl’s journey. So for Pixar to introduce a new love interest for Carl whom we know absolutely nothing about (and never will) tarnishes the experience somewhat. Carl and Ellie will always be one of animation’s greatest love stories, so when Carl prepares for a date with someone else, we know it’s a good thing, but it doesn’t mean we have to like it. It’s almost as if Pixar doesn’t understand how much Up means to audiences and is more concerned about using its IP.
The good news is that Elemental is something new and attempts to tackle larger themes in a beautiful, allegorical way. It isn’t quite as magical as some of Pixar’s best, but at the same time manages to work its own magic into our hearts. It’s an immigrant story, with fire element Bernie Lumen (voiced by Filipino animator and director Ronnie del Carmen) transplanting his family to Element City and setting up a shop in Fire Town. He’s grooming his daughter Ember (Leah Lewis) to take over the business when he eventually retires. But Ember is a literal hothead who has a ways to go before she’s ready.
Ember meets water element Wade Ripple (Mamoudou Athie), an emotional, easygoing water element who’s easily moved to tears. They spend some time together, and they fall in love. It’s a Romeo and Juliet, opposites attract love story. It’s nothing new. Even the slight plot twist about Ember not really wanting to run her father’s shop and instead pursue art is an old trope.
But it’s not about the story—it’s the storytelling. Elemental is a familiar story told in a breathtakingly beautiful way. Pixar has mastered the art of making impossible animation seem effortless such that most audiences won’t even notice Elemental’s incredible rendering of fire, water, air, and even earth. But Ember and her family are animated so fluidly, colorfully, and lifelike that it’s pure candy for the eyes, especially if you see it in 3D.
Elemental continues to push animation in sublime ways, unlike Sony Animation’s stylistic and more noticeable Spider-Verse. Element City is an immersive treat that bustles with improbable life, a place so gorgeous it needs to be real. Mental note: watch Elemental in 3D on the Apple Vision Pro when it comes out. In fact, Elemental just might be Pixar’s most beautiful film.
It’s a high bar, but Element City, Ember and Wade’s world, is so vibrant and filled with so much iridescence and texture that it’s almost like seeing new colors for the first time. Never mind that none of it makes sense. There’s metal and concrete and glass, there are trains and tuk-tuks and giant cruise liners, there are skyscrapers, parks, roads, and bridges … populated by elements who, in terms of material physics, sort of make up all those things. There’s water, and there are water people, just as there’s fire and living fire. It only just holds together if you don’t think about it too hard.
But Elemental is an allegory, with themes of racism and discrimination laid plain with elements that aren’t allowed to mix because, well, that would just be bad. It’s a little on the nose, with Ember and Wade physically different on a fundamental or, more accurately, elemental level. Fire Town is an analog for every (insert ethnicity here) Town in cities all over the world, microcosms of foreign culture that serve as homages and refuges. Fire Town is a safe haven for Ember and other fire elements who don’t often venture into Element City because it isn’t designed with them in mind.
In this way, Fire Town also feels like prison or exile, a physical embodiment of otherness that’s only made palatable because it reminds people of home. In a way, these little ethnocultural pockets perpetuate its own people’s othering through togetherness and insularity. But unlike human beings, whose only real difference is quantities of melanin, the elements are actually different from one another and, in many cases, volatile when mixed. Fire, in particular, is literally dangerous, capable of burning anything it touches to a crisp.
The inherent destructive nature of fire is a detriment to the narrative because it only helps justify the isolation of the fire people. Ember burns the foliage off earth elements as a running gag but it’s a reminder that fire can harm or kill without meaning to. Wade walks through a wire fence by simply passing though it while Ember melts it and leaves a permanent hole. It’s meant to be a visual gag about the pointlessness of the fence, but it only reinforces the idea that fire elements have no place in Element City.
That said, Element City is also dangerous for Ember because there’s just so much water everywhere. Element City is inexplicably riddled with canals, and there’s a flooded structure that reminds Ember of the racial discrimination she experienced as a child. There’s little explanation for things that happen because Elemental is more concerned about delivering an allegory and a moral lesson about getting along with those who are different from you.
Elemental tells us that even if this world isn’t designed for us, we can find ways to navigate it with a little help. The metaphor doesn’t always work, but the point is simple enough. We may be different, but we should get along, anyway. Ember’s subplot about pursuing her own dream isn’t integral to the story and feels glommed on, which disappoints a little because there could’ve been more focus on fire’s creative nature. Instead, Ember’s artistic bent is just another rehash of the trope of a child wanting something different from what her parents want for her. It’s familiar and hits some emotional notes, but it doesn’t tell us anything we don’t already know.
Ember and Wade’s love story is simple yet cute, made more memorable with a loop of Lauv’s Steal the Show, which is almost certain to keep playing in your head long after you’ve left the theater. Elemental doesn’t hit quite as hard, nor is the story quite as tight, but Pixar delivers a solid film whose only real failing is that it’s not Toy Story 2. But perhaps it’s time to cut Pixar some slack and stop holding it to the impossibly high standards it set for itself.
