To The Creators of the Especially Emotionally Ruthless Films by Pixar Such As Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc. and Up.

Bambi is bad enough. Even as children, we are taken with his sweet mispronunciations and the wildly inaccurate naming of the skunk as “Flower.” Charmed by those big eyes and wobbly legs. We never see it coming.

Off screen. Just the sound of the shot. “Mother?! Mother?!?” The panic all children feel at times when they think they have been left alone. Your mother is gone and you are left. Alone. In a forest. Danger sitting in every tree.

I knew parents who would not let their kids watch Bambi. Or 1001 Dalmatians. Cruella DeVille appearing in nightmares hours later. The weeks of recovery not worth it.

So we’re all very excited about these new movies. Cuddly monsters carrying lunch boxes to work who are really afraid of human kids . A clownfish, the cutest of all fish (which is not an animal we think of as cute) and a blue tang go on wild adventures. A man and a boy in a balloon--a big bright colorful hot air balloon.

"Finding Nemo" by Source. Licensed under Fair use via Wikipedia -
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Finding_Nemo.jpg#/media/File:Finding_Nemo.jpg

And you mangle our hearts. You don’t even wait. Before the opening credits, Nemo’s mother is eaten by a barracuda, one tiny egg survives. The boy isn’t even born yet. In the beginning of Up,  Ellie sits with her head in her hands, the doctor obviously telling her she can’t have a baby, the high pitched violins in sharp contrast to their dreams being popped one by one until Ellie dies.

Each time, I want to leave the theater. Really, Pixar? This is where you start? There are children here! Can you not keep this even a little more upbeat? Do you have to go there?

What are your writer’s meetings like? You’re all fresh with your morning coffees, sharp pencils and yellow legal pads. You pitch ideas across the conference table. A family of superheros. Talking cars. The inner emotional life of a 12 year old girl. Yes, but how do we make them cry? You’re joking, but not really. You talking about the time your mom accidently drove over your cat, the cat dying in your little seven year old arms. One of you tells the story of your best friend moving away. Your only friend. And you never had another, until college, really. Jordan, new to the team, remembers being about 8, waking up one night alone in the house, no one was there, running from room to room, every one dark and empty. Why would they leave me? Did they just forget? Running two blocks down to the neighbors in bare feet and pajamas.

They let me in. Gave me a blanket. Called my parents. They were there. In the backyard. Enjoying the summer stars. My dad came and got me. He could have laughed or gotten mad. But he just thanked the neighbors and picked me up. And we walked home in the dark. I could smell his shirt.

The room is silent, but the pencils are moving. Everyone blinks a lot. Good stuff, here. Good stuff.