Up

Up (2009)

Pixar is the standard when it comes to great storytelling, and is the type of studio that other studios should be aspiring to become. Of their 10 feature films, none has bombed (at least as of yet), and with each successive film, they've just gotten better and better, not only in terms of quality of filmmaking, but also with the emotional resonance of the story, the characters, and pacing. Wall-E was so good upon first viewing that I couldn't believe that there'd be another animated film that could even compare, much less by the same studio (that, despite the relatively weak second and third acts). But within the first ten minutes of Up, director Pete Doctor and co-director Bob Peterson pack more emotion in a quiet, wordless montage than any other film to come out this summer.
The montage is one of the best things Pixar has done yet. In it, we are introduced to Carl Fredricksen (voiced by a lovably droll Ed Asner) and his wife Ellie (Elie Doctor) as they first met as children. Carl is enamored with the exploits of adventurer Charles Muntz (voiced by Christopher Plummer), who has disappeared in South America in search of a rare giant bird. While walking home one day, young Carl meets young Ellie in an abandoned house, and they form a quick (if slightly quirky) friendship. This segment of dialogue ends when Carl falls from a beam and breaks his arm; while in bed that night a blue balloon weighted down by a stick flaots into his room, and Ellie climbs into his room and shares her Adventure Book with him. He promises that one day they'll make it to South America (which is where her adventure is to hopefully take place), and the scene ends and a montage begins.
The montage sums up the entire relationship between Carl and Ellie, from their courtship, to their marriage. They work at a zoo, she in the aviary, he as a balloon salesman. They set money aside for their South American adventure. But then Carl breaks his leg, and they take out from their savings. They save up again. Then a tree falls on their roof; goodbye savings. They start over. They try to have children, but can't. In their later years, Ellie becomes depressed; Carl remembers the promise he'd made when they were children and buys tickets to South America. He takes her on a picnic to surprise her, but she falls ill. She's in the hospital; a single blue balloon floats into her room. Carl walks in and hugs her, and then sits down. When he stands up he's alone in a funeral home holding a blue balloon, and as he turns to walk out, the scene dissolves into him walking alone into his house and closing the door on the audience.
People cried during this sequence, and I couldn't help but let myself get worked up also. Within 10 minutes we know everything about Carl, Ellie, their life together, and why later in the film Carl is a grumpy miser. This is simple, elegant storytelling in a purely visual sense (remember the scene in Citizen Kane where Kane's marriage to his first wife is shown in its entirety, from love to breakdown, over the course of a few minutes' cuts at a dinner table? Same thing here); Michael Giacchino's (yes! I love that guy!) beautiful score respectfully undercutting the emotional beats, making them that much more resonant. The scene is heartbreakingly simple, beautiful, and perfect.
However, Pixar perfoms a complete tonal shift (something which would ruin lesser films) and becomes a light-hearted comedy with enough sight gags and dialogue to please the many kids in the theatre, as well as the equally-numerous adults.
Carl's house is the last obstacle in an urban development programs. Carl is rude to Russell (voiced by Jordan Nagai, who comes ever-so-close to being annoying), a Junior Adventure Explorer, and tells him to find an imaginary snipe which ruins his garden. Contractors are trying to push him off his property and sell his house, and when a clumsy construction worker accidentally knocks over Carl's mailbox, Carl hits him with his cane, and agrees to be taken to a nursing home. On the day he is to be taken off though, Carl escapes his plight by tying thousands of helium balloons together and sailing his house through the sky to South America. However, he fails to take into account Russell sneaking aboard his house, and he soon finds himself having to deal with this stowaway.
And that's just the first 30 minutes of the movie. I tend to view the first third as The Wizard of Oz (complete with a thunderstorm and swirling house!); the second third is like Fitzcarraldo; and the third act is right out of an RKO serial, or a film like Gunga Din or The Most Dangerous Game (it is even complete with a horde of ravenous dogs, a clever nod to that film). All of these homages combine well and never once feel tacked on.
The biggest surprise to me though was not in how advanced the animation was, but how organic and real everything felt. Every piece of action i nthe film occurs as a result of a decision made by one of the characters, and none of the characters felt unneccesary (even the inclusion of a talking animal, in this case Dug the dog---voiced perfectly by Bob Peterson---felt intrinsic to the story. Hell, I loved Dug! I want a stuffed Dug doll...for my girlfriend. Yeah.) The conflicts faced within the story were stronger as a result of the action being character-based rather than plot-based, and it's a skill that the Pixar filmmakers have perfected.
I won't ruin the rest of the plot outside of what I've already described here, because there is so, so much more to witness once you sit down and watch Up. There are so many moments of perfection and originality and comedy, and it mixes so well with its moments of beauty and sadness and surrealism and symbolism. The image of Carl dragging his floating house over a rocky desert is surrealism enough (and, again, is an homage to the insane genius of Werner Herzog), but once you realize that Carl's obsession with transporting his house to the edge of a waterfall is causing so many problems for the other characters the image of the house takes on an entirely different meaning; the image of the thousands of balloons unfurling into the sky is enough of an inspiring, iconic moment for the film, but for me one of the more beautiful moments comes a few seconds later, where we see a little girl playing in her room, and suddenly the room is lit up into a million colors as the balloons float past: here the simple beauty of color transforms a quiet moment in a child's room into a magical one.
And magic is the name of the game when it comes to Pixar. Pete Doctor, Andrew Stanton, and everyone involved with Pixar has my utmost respect and envy (from what I know of people who interned there, everyone at Pixar absolutely loves thier job...and I would too). They've turned the story of a lonely, elderly man into a funny, dramatic, emotional story of escaping into our own version of paradise and, therein, take responsibility for our lives, learn to care about others and, eventually, move on to better things.
As I said earlier, there's so much more to talk about with this movie that I'll probably revisit this film in the future and talk about it at length (when I know that everyone who reads this has seen it). The direction, story, voice-acting, and character design is flawless. Michael Giacchino once again creates a memorable, beautiful score. And Pixar has created another priceless film to add to their ouevre.

If you see it in theatres (and I hope you do), make sure you catch the Toy Story 3 preview, as well as the short film Partly Cloudy (not as fun as Presto!, but good nonetheless). And if you don't see the film in 3D, it's not a problem, trust me. Unlike Coraline, little is added to the experience (although nothing is taken away either).