“Life can only be understood backwards, but we have to live it forwards.“ 

All the charm of a Aardman Animations film… but rude! 

I had an incredibly engaging and emotionally complex experience with this one. The film masterfully balances life’s harsh realities with the whimsy and charm of its unique world. The animation style—particularly how it warps and reflects real-life objects—worked exceptionally well for me and kept me enthralled throughout.  

As the story reaches the end of the third act, it plunges to such a deep low that I found myself wondering, “How are they going to pull this together? “

Yet, they truly did. While I found the climax slightly convenient, it was undeniably heartfelt.  

At its core, this film is a thoughtful meditation on grief and the necessity of moving forward. It carries a fearless quality that makes it all the more impactful.

I’m torn—there’s something undeniably charming about the animation, but the style of the animation I really hated. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that.

What struck me, though, was how the themes of fear, community, tolerance, and change were so beautifully woven into the story.

There’s a quiet depth to it. I also really admired how it juggled its characters without relying on dialogue—there’s something truly powerful in that restraint. I’d love to hear what kids think of this movie. I have a hunch they’d get so much from this in an authentic, non-pandering way.

It made me laugh at parts, but nothing landed with any real punch. The things it does that are new feel unnecessary and things it calls back to feel tired. This doesn’t feel like a movie; it feels like a product—more of a brand than someone’s passion project. Wallace and Gromit has always been something real, something authentic, and it’s honestly exhausting to see it cheaply made for Netflix.

Peter Sallis, the voice actor for Wallace passed away in 2017, and I couldn’t shake that while watching this. Not that any of the voice acting underperforms, just that it felt hallow. 

It pains me to say, but it all felt hallow…

They used the phrase “it’s giving” in Inside Out 2, so it’s time to relegate it to the “things kids no longer say” pile.

I missed the original theatrical release, but I had heard that the film was emotionally brutal, in line with Pixar’s usual modus operandi. Going into this, I expected the familiar emotional gut punch, paired with the dazzling visuals. Carhartt crafts durable workwear, and Pixar makes devastatingly powerful children’s films—it’s part of their brand.

While Inside Out 2 does a solid job of tackling anxiety and the struggles of adolescence, there’s just something missing. It hits all the right emotional notes, but somehow doesn’t manage to leave a lasting impression. The film's handling of the emotional complexity of growing up is strong, but the experience feels like a hollow echo of the first. Pixar, however, deserves credit for playing with multiple animation styles, often contrasting them in a way that adds a unique feel to the movie. This choice helped with the humor, grounding the film in something fresh and modern, rather than just another Pixar outing.

Ultimately, Inside Out 2 will be remembered within Pixar’s collection, but outside of that context, it’s easy to forget. It’s a fine film, no doubt—one that explores familiar territory, but doesn’t quite push any boundaries.

I wouldn’t have guessed a robot raising a goose would be such a effective metaphor for motherhood, yet here we are—and it works beautifully. This film is tender, emotionally resonant. I cried. DreamWorks, which I’ve felt has been long stuck in a stylistic rut, is making bold strides in reimagining their animation. This film is striking and sharp. 

That said, not all modern touches land. A drawn-out musical montage drenched in what can only be described as “mall pop” feels particularly cringe-worthy. And while the film’s core conceit is wonderful, it falters as it unfolds—revealing too much, rather than trusting its own mysteries. Science fiction thrives on ambiguity, and in the final act, where restraint is most needed, the film instead indulges, dulling the impact of its strongest moments. Extra applause for casting Matt Berry as a beaver—whoever made that call deserves a promotion.

Still, for all its missteps, this is a thoughtful, visually inventive work—one that lingers, even as it stumbles.