“When the child was a child, it was the time of these questions. Why am I me, and why not you? Why am I here, and why not there? When did time begin, and where does space end? Isn’t life under the sun just a dream? Isn’t what I see, hear, and smell just the mirage of a world before the world? Does evil actually exist, and are there people who are really evil? How can it be that I, who am I, wasn’t before I was, and that sometime I, the one I am, no longer will be the one I am?” – Damiel, Wings of Desire
In childhood, an end is always a beginning. As time goes on, experiences fade as tangible memories as endure as impressions. These impressions, the cornerstones of our character, harbor a constant fluidity. Actualization, by extension, is dependent upon our ability to synthesize the shifts in our understanding, citing them not as hindrances, but catalysts for development.
Likewise, development cannot be meaningful unless it is placed against an emotional spectrum. Few films conjure an analogy for cognitive growth quite like Pete Docter’s Inside Out. Pixar has garnered renown for being whimsical, yet sincere tales without frequently falling into the verbose. Though many of their films, such as Toy Story and Up, involve the plight of children through severe change, few take an intrinsic look at youth’s psychology.
The task of crafting a film about the personifications of a child’s emotional faculties is a bit daunting. To this end, Docter relied heavily on the advisory of child experts and psychologists to harness his concept into something accessible. The director had to establish a sense of balance, interweaving a fantastical analogy within reality without sabotaging the spirit of either. Yet somehow, Inside Out surpassed its own expectations and hurdles exponentially.
In the chaos of a fresh start, an 11-year-old Riley (Kaitlyn Dias), and by extension the embodiments of her emotions, struggles to cope with an abrupt move. The narrative channels this quest towards perspective into phases, each further illustrated by her internal and external conflicts. The plights of her emotions and Riley herself cascade into one another, yielding something real, sincere, and ultimately extraordinary.
Foundation
Riley’s growth throughout the film is not ignited in a vacuum. Shortly after her birth, Joy (Amy Poehler) and Sadness (Phyllis Smith) take up residency in the control center of Riley’s mind. As she grows into a toddler, the faculties are rounded out by Fear (Bill Hader), Disgust (Mindy Kaling), and Anger (Lewis Black). As the emotions help memorialize Riley’s feelings through her experiences, the aspects of her personalities, or islands, begin to form. Composed of interests and traits, the islands give the emotions a framework of how Riley functions, allowing them to navigate Riley’s early years with ease. However, the scope of the emotions’ own understanding is limited, as Joy tries desperately to ensure all of Riley’s most important memories are positive.
On the verge of a life-changing event, the emotions feel confident in their ability to maintain Riley’s health. After her father receives a promising career opportunity in San Francisco, the prospect of the uncharted slowly waivers each of the emotions. Though the emotions can maintain the same Riley in essence, the saplings of disarray begin to sprout. Off put by their initial impression of Riley’s new home, Joy struggles to suppress sadness and ensure Riley’s positive outlook.
Though Joy’s endeavor is not futile, Riley’s development is harshly truncated if her personality is only maintained by exclusively happy memories. When the foundation of her personality is jarred even slightly, it proves devastating.
Trauma
The bane of Riley’s islands is they predominantly associated with memories specific to Minnesota, her former home. While introducing herself to a new class, Riley is forced to acknowledge her distance from many of the things and people she cared about. Internally, Joy attempts to prevent Sadness from altering one of Riley’s core memories, inadvertently ejecting both of them from their station. In the absence of Joy and Sadness, Riley becomes etherized, detached, and limited in ability to garner perspective. As Joy and Sadness are forced to reconcile with one another, Riley herself is at a loss, and the remaining emotions only serve to compel her catastrophically to a life in the fresh past.
The trauma propels Riley from her own development and forces a schism between her and her parents. Riley’s islands slowly begin to crumble, and her reactions grow more volatile as only her most bombastic emotions are left in her mind’s control center. These initial demonstrations of Riley’s troubled states echo the pain of growth, but also the devastation in the absence of perspective. Riley’s reactions in the stage are not useless, but their utility is lost if she cannot meaningfully synthesize them.
Realization
Embarking on a literal emotional journey, Joy and Sadness must garner perspective of their own through the entirety of Riley’s consciousness. Their trek back to the control center leads them through Riley’s long-term memory, imagination, and an encounter with a relic of her dreams, Bing Bong (Richard Kind). Though the latter has become all but a complete afterthought for Riley, for Joy and Sadness, Bing Bong is an image of young Riley’s hopes. Unfortunately, they meet the cotton candy elephant-bird as his domain is crumbling.
Though the loss of Bing Bong’s being is painful, his sacrifice is a necessary facet of Riley’s development. The pieces of her childhood aspirations are hurled into an abyss, and space for more advanced ideas and dreams emerge. However, without the insight of Joy and Sadness, the aforementioned space is left empty. To complicate matters and as examined throughout the film, Joy and Sadness cannot just return as is. They are the two most pivotal faculties of Riley, the bookends of her emotional spectrum, and without the development of their own perspective, Riley is likewise limited.
Though Sadness realized her value to Riley’s personality and growth at the film’s onset, the pressures of Joy to remain positive compels the emotion to feel parasitic. An attempt to return to the control center via an actual train of thought is derailed, Joy and Bing Bong fall into an abyss of forgotten emotions as the former selfishly attempts to evade her somber companion. Anchored by the recently discovered toxicity of her actions, Joy discovers the value of Sadness as a memory shifts from yellow to blue. In this instance, emotional complexity is born, and Joy realizes Riley’s identity is sabotaged if not for the benefit of all of her emotions working in unison.
Resolve
In order to move forward, some things must be forgotten. Still, reflections are also necessary. Though a dependence upon memories and their specifics is problematic, knowing what they mean is the fuel for development. This is best exemplified in Joy’s epiphany at the bottom of the abyss. Unfortunately, this step forward requires space, and Bing Bong opts to be lost with the other forgotten memories so Joy may return to Riley’s consciousness.
Joy apologizes to Sadness, and the two are able to return not only with another’s aid, but also with the assistance of the other emotions. Their returns comes at precisely the right moment, as their arrival dissuades Riley from staying on a bus bound for Minnesota. Riley opts to remain in San Francisco, accepting her disappointment, but resolving to use this melancholy as leverage for something better. Likewise, Joy allows Sadness to have a more direct hand in Riley’s reactions, yielding additional islands of personality and core memories melded by multiple emotions.
Consequence and celebration are necessary modes of betterment. Furthermore, without the frame of perspective, memories are clinical visions devoid of value. However, when considered for what they do and more importantly, how they make us feel, we cascade into something different and something more than ourselves.
