Movie Review: Pixar’s Death-Defying "Coco" Is Designed to Make You Cry

Coco is a beautiful and moving film, but there’s something inherently funny about Pixar now making movies where even dead people die again.

The Disney-owned studio must surely be aware of its reputation as a trauma factory. They opened Up with a tragic death; they (briefly) wrapped the Toy Story franchise by almost incinerating our heroes.

Now comes Coco, which takes its title from the name of a nearly-speechless grandmother living with Alzheimer’s disease. It’s set in a world where the dead exist in the afterlife, though only if they’re remembered in the land of the living. Otherwise, they must endure ‘the final death’ of being forgotten.

Children will not be prepared for the emotional onslaught. Teens and adults probably won’t either.

Yet, somehow, Coco does not fall into the pit of self-parody. When I write out the premise, I have an incredulous giggle over how cruel Pixar can be. However, watching Coco yields a different response: Deep feeling, genuine cathartic laughter and narratively-warranted tears. They're the best kind of tears.

Coco is co-directed by Lee Unkrich—you may remember him as the filmmaker who nearly condemned Woody and Buzz to their fiery graves—and Adrian Molina, from a screenplay by Molina and Matthew Aldrich. It takes inspiration from the Mexican holiday Día de Muertos, aka Day of the Dead, which is very on-brand for Pixar.

Anthony Gonzalez voices Miguel Rivera, a young Mexican boy who wants to become a famous musician like his late idol, Ernesto de la Cruz (a silky Benjamin Bratt). Only problem is the Rivera family banned all music after Miguel's great-great-grandfather left daughter Coco and wife Imelda (Alanna Ubach) to selfishly follow his own musical dreams.

Miguel, angry, abandons the Riveras’ Día de Muertos celebrations and defies them by stealing a guitar from de la Cruz’s grave. Doing so transports him to a different plane of existence, and suddenly he can see all his dead, skeletal relatives visiting the graveyard. They see him too—alarmed by his fleshiness—and take him over a golden bridge to (basically) heaven, in the hopes of restoring him to life.

And that’s the plot of Coco: You know, for kids.

There’s no questioning Coco’s animated spectacularity, and that’s even putting aside the gloriously-realised ‘afterlife’, and its many bony residents. At one point, back in Mexico, a mangy dog shudders, and the ripples of its skin are impossibly detailed. It’s a beautifully disgusting moment. But at this point, groundbreaking animation is the minimum we should expect from Pixar (without taking it for granted).

Where they’ve struggled in recent years is making movies that feel new and essential. They did it with Inside Out in 2015; before that, you’d have to go all the way back to 2009's Up (while appreciating Finding Dory for being lovely, and Monsters University for being very funny). Coco gets there, conveying a sweet death-myth that encourages a thoughtful way of living (in short: tell the stories of those who came before), just as Inside Out offered kids another way to reconcile their most abstract feelings.

It’s also the studio’s most diverse picture, and its setting provides Pixar with a variety of new voices, flavours and textures to add to their palette. I won’t speak on behalf of the Mexican people—obviously—and similarly won’t assume that this tiny flick captures their culture in totality. Still, if it’s “new” and “essential” you’re looking for in the late-Pixar era, Coco delivers both.

Gael García Bernal is one of those new voices. He plays Hector, a gangly, nearly-forgotten assortment of bones that teams up with Miguel in the afterlife, after escaping the intimidating Imelda. Their reckless journey across the Great Beyond’s varied quarters gives the feature its traditional Pixar shape, leading to an action-packed conclusion that, eh, is not nearly as imaginative as the world built around it.

But a Pixar film’s true climax is the moment it attempts to burst our tear-ducts with its most devastating emotional moment, usually just after the action dies down. And... yeah, they did it again.

4/5

Advanced screenings this weekend (08/12 to 10/12). In cinemas Boxing Day. Rated PG for mild themes.