2.Main Content
Up
Mon, 26 Oct 2009
The latest from Pixar is a daring departure even for them, an animated adventure which features – of all things – an elderly protagonist. Does it change things when your central character has more of his life behind him than in front of him? Absolutely! says reviewer Trevor Johnston, our man in the 3D glasses, as he examines how this chronicle of dreams and disappointment puts a whole new spin on heroism. Spoilers ahead as we lift up, up and…away…
Very often it goes something like this. Some catalytic event puts the hero in crisis, but there’s a way out – an objective to be reached which will resolve the situation. So, after facing a string of challenges, the hero eventually wins the day, and is a stronger, more fulfilled person as a result. We note what they’ve learned from the experience, and reflect upon it. Drama creates meaning, the audience goes home happy.
To begin with, Pete Docter and Bob Peterson’s screenplay for Up (from a story they co-authored with Station Agent and The Visitor film-maker Tom McCarthy), looks as if it will follow this time-honoured template. If you start backstory from the very first scene, does that make it plain ol’ story? That’s something to ponder as Carl’s first seventy-odd years unfold before us in one of the most beautiful sequences you’ll ever encounter in an animated feature. As a child Carl is entranced by the exploits of airship-piloting adventurer Charles Muntz, who returns from the South American plateau of Paradise Falls with the skeleton of a bird which he claims has survived from the age of dinosaurs. Scientists later dismiss his claims, but Carl remains a believer, and finds a playmate with which to share a longing for his own adventures in tomboy-ish Ellie. Not just a playmate, but a lifemate, indeed, as they embark on a happy marriage, bear up to the fact that they can’t have children, but still hope to make it to Paradise Falls themselves one day – if only the tribulations of the everyday would stop getting in the way. Ellie’s untimely demise however puts paid to all of that, seemingly preventing her from completing her scrapbook – titled ‘Stuff I’m gonna do’ – and leaving Carl, at seventy-plus, alone and unfulfilled…
So, of course, we know what follows. The only thing that’s gonna make him feel it’s all been worthwhile is to live the dream, make the trip that Ellie would have wanted to go on herself, and somehow get to Paradise Falls. Simple! Yes, but also, at this stage, highly unlikely…until retired balloon-seller Carl takes up the challenge, and has soon used enough helium to hoist his development-threatened house aloft and set sail for South America. It’s what he’s always wanted, it’s what Ellie would have wanted, and we’re totally rooting for the old boy, who’s carrying with him the unrealised dreams of all the grown-ups in the audience. We know there will be obstacles ahead, but we’re ready for them. That’s how it works, right?
A knock on the door
When there’s someone at Carl’s door, it’s a surprise. Not what you expect in the middle of the clouds. Still, it’s not that much of a surprise though, when the old codger encounters super-keen Russell, a Wilderness Scout seeking his Help The Elderly Badge, whom Carl had previously sent packing. The obvious move now would be to turn back to leave Russell safely back home with his mother, but Carl hasn’t come this far to divert his course. His dream’s more important, and he can always take Russell along – he’s a Wilderness Scout, after all. At this stage then, Carl’s objectives take priority…but the notion that he’s putting further distance between a child and a parent is to prove a canny bit of thematic foreshadowing.
A change of course
Landing within sight of Paradise Falls – so near, yet so far – serves to intensify our rooting for Carl to get there, particularly when old man and little boy square up to the arduous task of pulling the balloon-buoyed house through miles of rock and jungle. We expect more diversions however, so enter… a giant multi-coloured flightless bird being chased by a pack of talking dogs. Russell instantly takes to the big bird, naming him Kevin, and Dug, the most amiable of the dogs, greets a curmudgeonly Carl as his new master. At first glance, all this seems to have very little to do with Carl’s quest, but a key conversation with Russell again flags up the issue of parenting. As the little boy explains how he’s cared for by his dad’s new partner, while his dad is too busy with work to take much of an interest in his son, it’s clear that Russell’s goal in landing his ‘Help the Elderly’ patch is to have a complete set of badges, which will make his father proud at the next Wilderness Scout awards ceremony. Carl didn’t have any children himself, but he’s sensitive enough to respond to the hurt he knows Russell must be feeling – a key turning point because it’s the first time Carl shows concern for anything outside his clearly defined Paradise Falls objective.
But given that Carl never had kids, isn’t this whole parenting theme a bit of a non-issue? No so – when we learn that the dogs have parted Kevin from her (!) babies on the other side of the canyon, it’s crunch time. Carl has kept Russell from his mum, he can’t do the same with Kevin and her brood, so his own goal has to be put to one side for now. It’s a moral decision expressed through action (Kevin’s babies are the opposite direction from the canyon). Indeed, it’s had to be carefully prepared for because the opening life-with-Ellie sequence is so emotionally powerful, the writers needed to come up with something really, really good to make the viewer feel that a diversion from the Paradise Falls dream is a worthwhile option.
The fallen idol
It’s a sly irony that in seemingly getting sidetracked from his dream, Carl actually learns the truth about Paradise Falls. Trying to get Kevin home brings Carl and Russell into conflict with Dug’s snarling canine cohorts, and their master – none other than Charles Muntz himself! Carl’s boyhood hero is still pursuing his dream of finding the mythical bird which will prove to the world he was right all along, but while Carl’s initially thrilled to be stepping inside Muntz’s airship ‘Spirit of Adventure’ (depicted by the Pixar animators in the sort of affectionate detail Hayao Miyazaki brings to his trademark flying machines), it’s not long before he realises that the bird Muntz is looking for is actually Kevin! Since Muntz’s plans involve adding the single mother to his trophy cabinet, it’s another moment of realisation for Carl – single-minded dedication to one dream can prove corrosive when it over-rides morality and compassion. Earlier in the story we saw Carl injure a building worker when trying to prevent damage to his post box, so there’s already been an instance of his self-possession impacting damagingly on others.
How does the Muntz revelation affect the course of events? Well, it strengthens the significance of keeping Kevin safe so she can be there for her children (unlike Russell’s absent father, for instance). In fact, this is now a matter of life and death, its urgency supplanting the reasons Carl had for coming to Paradise Falls in the first place.
This time he really means it
Russell’s realisation that Carl is now fighting Kevin’s corner, brings old man and boy closer together. It prompts Russell to remember the best of times with his dad, having ice cream at a diner, counting the cars going past outside. ‘It’s the boring stuff I remember the most’ he sighs – a comment which seems nondescript at the time, but which is to have an enormous bearing on the thematic imprint of the entire movie. It comes at a tricky moment: Carl has obviously decided to look out for Kevin, and Russell’s words on everyday parenting would seem to be reinforcing the value of that option, yet Carl’s determination is yet to be tested.
And we all know that in celluloid terms a choice is only a real choice when it’s tested in action. Hence the writers pull the rug from under our feet when Muntz captures Kevin and Carl decides to let him have the creature. ‘It’s none of my concern’ declares the old man, reverting to solipsistic type. Can it really be true? Russell is so disgusted with him, he throws away his badges, symbolically rejecting the world of adult approval if all it amounts to is a code of selfishness.
It’s an intense moment of moral decision for Carl, and his response is to return to his comfort zone. His life is behind him, with Ellie, and that’s where he belongs, it seems, rather than sorting out some bird’s problems. He settles down with Ellie’s ‘Stuff I’m gonna do’ notebook, about to wallow in the melancholy of abandoned hopes, only to discover that she’d actually filled in the pages. Instead of a blank testament to the adventures they never had, he finds pictures and mementos of their life together. Russell’s observation that ‘It’s the boring stuff I remember most’ now becomes the catalyst for Carl’s major realisation: everyday life is the biggest adventure of all.
So, when he gets to Ellie’s inscription ‘Now go and have a new one!’, it’s not an encouragement to another flight of fancy, but an exhortation to get stuck into the stuff of life – saving Kevin and restoring Russell’s faith in him is now right back on the agenda. This time Carl means it, but it’s only by this loss of purpose and subsequent re-affirmation that his decision is delivered with maximum emotional intensity to the audience. The writers have had to turn to Ellie, the most trusted source of wisdom in Carl’s life, to shape and confirm this transformation. However, that Carl has been thrown together with a vulnerable child whose words ring in his ears – resonance here with The Adventures of Baron Munchausen even though thematically the films are poles apart – that he’s squared up to the notion of a changed objective (saving single mother Kevin) and also confronted his fallen idol (Muntz the ruthlessly selfish dreamer) have all been key to shaking the old boy’s initial certitude.
In the end, it’s only once he’s shed the burden of dreams that he understands life is the greatest adventure of all.
What goes up must come down
The remainder of the plot plays out in action terms, with Carl, Russ and Dug together overcoming the odds to outwit Muntz and his attack dogs. Muntz is sent crashing down to earth, but Carl also has to jettison his beloved home and leave it resting on the rocky outcrop of Paradise Falls. So, Carl’s previous dream is laid to rest, while he gets on with his new adventure, on hand to pin ‘the Ellie badge’ (validation for a true adventurer) on Russell at the Wilderness Scout ceremony, then later having ice-cream with the boy while Muntz’s airship hangs tethered to the diner building. You might read this as an affirmation that parenting – even in this surrogate manner – is the highest form of fulfilment, yet the evidence of Ellie’s scrapbook has given emotive validation to the childless life she and Carl have shared together. Ultimately, it’s about love and companionship, rather than an explicit family-values agenda which seems to be at work here, something which perhaps marks it out as a Pixar product than a traditional Disney offering.
Seeing the ‘spirit of adventure’ tethered in the final scene, also highlights the coherent image methodology which has been worked through in the course of the story. Flying up, up and away might seem like it offers an escape from a confined existence, promising the adventure of new perspectives along the way, yet it’s when feet are planted on the ground that life really happens. Maybe that’s why Kevin never takes flight…
Hints and tips
* Modifying the protagonist’s objectives midway through a story is a great way of adding freshness and excitement, while also manifesting the central character’s learning curve. However, if a screenplay has worked hard to get the viewer rooting for the hero to accomplish their initial goal, the reasons for changing direction will have to seem even more compelling – otherwise the audience will feel that the story’s somehow getting sidetracked
* The protagonist’s sense of purpose will mean even more to the audience if it’s put to the test, especially if the hero has just had reason to re-adjust their sights. A loss of faith, a moment of doubt, followed by reaffirmation can strengthen the audience’s bond with the character by putting everyone through the drama of decision-making.
* Building into the story a character in whom the audience and the protagonist have absolute trust can be a valuable way of helping the plot surmount the obstacles in its path. A key moment of advice at the right moment can work wonders in showing the protagonist the true path – and if the giver of wisdom is no longer with us, the notion of written testimony (as in Ellie’s ‘Stuff I’m gonna do’ scrapbook) can have a genuinely talismanic potency.
©Trevor Johnston/The Script Factory 2009
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