Inside Out – first look review

Ever won­dered what the floor plan of your mind palace looks like or which of your emo­tions wears glass­es? In Pixar’s unique grow­ing pains dra­ma, an 11-year-old girl’s mind is ani­mat­ed with the same vivid fan­cy as Char­lie and his Choco­late Fac­to­ry. Riley’s inter­con­nect­ed inter­nal struc­tures are neat­ly labelled and meta­phys­i­cal­ly mocked (“These facts and opin­ions look so similar!”).

A task-force of admin­is­tra­tors pop­u­late her insides, each try­ing to pro­tect their host in dif­fer­ent ways. Key emo­tions dwell in head­quar­ters. Beyond that there is the sub­con­scious – where trou­ble-mak­ers are sent, the longterm mem­o­ry depart­ment and a train of thought, which expe­dites trav­el­ling through this unpre­dictable land.

The sharp wit of the writ­ing and detailed imagery of the world-build­ing com­bine in a way that pro­vides end­less sur­face delights and chuck­les. Yet Pete Doc­ter and Ronal­do del Carmen’s film goes deep­er and fur­ther, trav­el­ling in a focused arc from the brain’s plea­sure cen­tres to its dark­est reach­es. Inside Out is about grow­ing up and say­ing good­bye to the sim­ple joys of child­hood. Mem­o­ries in this film are, of course, pal­pa­ble objects, tak­ing the form of iri­des­cent crys­tal ball-like orbs filled with images of Riley and her fam­i­ly. They are colour-cod­ed accord­ing to the emo­tion they con­tain. Joy (voiced by Amy Poehler) is for­ev­er tick­ing off Sad­ness (Phyl­lis Smith) for touch­ing yel­low hap­py mem­o­ries and turn­ing them sad and blue. The emo­tion­al bick­er­ing is hilar­i­ous but the weight of a mem­o­ry chang­ing colour is imme­di­ate­ly felt by Riley.

Like a roller coast­er fly­ing under and then over, the nar­ra­tive inhab­its the world that Riley and her par­ents (Diane Lane and Kyle MacLach­lan) move through as eas­i­ly as the world with­in. At times it seems like she is a pup­pet at the mer­cy of her emo­tions and at oth­er times it’s the oth­er way round. Docter’s sto­ry unfolds at a time of tran­si­tion. The fam­i­ly have exchanged Min­neso­ta, the site of Riley’s hap­py child­hood, for San Fran­cis­co where her increas­ing­ly dis­tract­ed father needs to work.

The film begins with Joy head­ing up the con­trol pan­el and yel­low dom­i­nat­ing the mar­ble run-like mem­o­ry hold­ing struc­ture. Sad­ness, Fear (Bill Had­er), Anger (Lewis Black) and Dis­gust (Mindy Kaling) co-habit head­quar­ters with Joy who – in a des­per­ate attempt to reverse the hav­oc that Sad­ness has begun wreak­ing on mem­o­ries – goes on a mis­sion through the mind. The irony is that in doing so she leaves the oth­er emo­tions to nav­i­gate Riley in her new life in her new town.

Part fan­tas­ti­cal quest, part emo­tion­al explo­ration and part sen­so­ry over­load of ani­mat­ed bril­liance, Inside Out’s only weak­ness is that it deals in arche­types. Riley is less per­son and more aggre­ga­tion of child­hood norms. The crea­tures that Joy and Sad­ness meet once they leave head­quar­ters are pure­ly enter­tain­ers, not sig­ni­fiers of the char­ac­ter that they inhab­it. To wit, Riley’s biggest fears are clowns and broc­coli. Her imag­i­nary boyfriend has flop­py hair and is prone to dra­mat­ic love proclamations.

But this quib­ble bare­ly has time to reg­is­ter amidst the fun fac­to­ry that hap­pens to be in the process of being demol­ished and rebuilt. There is no sen­ti­men­tal cush­ion­ing to this ani­mat­ed evo­ca­tion of what it means to move on. There are times when the emo­tion­al land­scape is dev­as­tat­ed and Riley is in a state of loss. Inside Out is equal­ly firm when it comes to pro­vid­ing a com­plex end­ing. The res­o­lu­tion is coloured by a dif­fer­ent, enlarged scope of emo­tion­al inter­play that spells hope for the ever-chang­ing hori­zon of Riley, now aged 12.

As a coda, it’s also worth men­tion­ing that in the cred­it bonus round, the film goes inside the mind of a cat, pro­vid­ing the best inter­pre­ta­tion into the feline psy­che that this writer has ever seen.