Although many of Pixar’s sequels have gone on to be classics in their own right – Toy Story 2, after all, is the best film they’ve ever made: FACT! – the greatness they grew from was rooted in the originality, charm, wit and emotional resolve that could be left alone, without sequels, for the rest of film history (note: leave Up the hell alone!) and remain innately satisfying for it. This list is a ranking of those stand-alones – the brilliant films Pixar crafted to stand solely on their own two feet and have yet to be appended in one way or another, and often the ones that have the potential to be the most creatively exciting and invigorating of their entire catalogue to date. Granted, any number of these film’s could, knowing Disney, become franchised on a long enough timeline; I’d just rather Down come after my lifetime than during.
#11. The Good Dinosaur (2015)
DIR: Peter Sohn
As impressive a tech demo as The Good Dinosaur undoubtedly is, there is only so far its photorealistic waters can push a raft, built from the scraps of greater films before it, without any wind in its storytelling-sails. It’s a coming-of-age story in which Apatosaurus Arlo (Raymond Ochoa) helps human cub Spot (Jack Bright) reunite with his family – of course encountering a whole range of prehistoric mischief along the way! – but lacks the humanity necessary to make its central friendship work; only one of of them is human, granted, but if giving non-human creatures distinctly human traits and personalities isn’t the bread and butter of Pixar, then what in God’s name is? None of the characters are overly memorable (or are memorable for all the wrong reasons: see Thunderclap, Steve Zahn’s frankly grating baddie) and the story they inhabit hurts given the pedigree of what Pixar is capable of — the polish is shiny and damn are those water effects good; they just drown out what little heart it had inside.
#10. Brave (2012)
DIR: Brenda Chapman and Mark Andrews
If The Good Dinosaur is the most deeply forgettable Pixar film to date, then Brave‘s relentlessly linear attempt at reinventing the Princess mythos is their least Pixarian film to date . We follow Merida (Kelly MacDonald), a Scottish Princess yearning for independence that accidentally turns her disapproving mother (Emma Thompson) into a grizzly bear, which is taking the Home Alone “anti-Parent” wish trope to quite the extreme. Merida herself is a compelling heroine and many of the characters around her – chiefly her lovably chaotic brothers, each more devious than the last – stick true to the wit and personality that Pixar is known for, but it never quite captures their spark, and instead feels like a middling Disney adventure instead. It was sandwiched between Tangled and Frozen as Pixar’s crack at the Disney formula, and thus feels like the Scottish step-child amongst three siblings, quite literally from a different mother.
#09. A Bug’s Life (1998)
DIR: John Lasseter
A Bug’s Life is an insectoid remake of Seven Samurai, and that’s all you really need to know about it. The story it houses is fairly conventional – outcast ant Flik (Dave Foley) heads out into the wilderness to gather a gang of mercenaries ready to defend his colony from grasshoppers; how very Kurosawa-esque – but the characters within, as well as the innate creativity of such a fantastically silly concept, is enough to make the film worthwhile on the characters’ charisma alone, from Denis Leary’s definitively male ladybug Francis to Kevin Spacey’s bizarrely intimidating (for a bug!) grasshopper baddie, Hopper, to the inexplicably German caterpillar Heimlich (Joe Ranft), a loveable optimist whose desire to transform into something greater (a butterfly, which must be read in the thickest German accent you can muster) could also be read as a metaphor for Pixar itself. There is nothing innately wrong with A Bug’s Life – in fact, it’s rather delightful – it’s just the simple fact its peers are often just that good.
#08. WALL-E (2008)
DIR: Andrew Stanton
The first half of WALL-E is almost note-perfect: an engrossing, cleverly constructed and intricately stylised quasi-silent epic as two robots – the titular WALL-E and the light of his life, Eva, each more adorable on every glance you throw their way – fall in love in the dystopian shell once known as Earth (which is hypothetically set a few centuries from now, but let’s be more realistic and say around sixty days). The second half, in contrast, is sharply written and features some of the most biting satire Pixar’s ever put out (outright roasting the entire human race on a skewer, which we probably would eat, in fairness) but consequently loses its creative spark, trading elegance for a spectacle far too ambitious for its own good. The entire film is watchable, if not great, but once the quiet poetry is replaced with senseless noise it loses that which made it so enthralling to begin with – always cute, no longer beautiful.
#07. Onward (2020)
DIR: Dan Scanlon
Dan Scanlon’s fantastical tale of two Elven brothers, Ian and Barley (Tom Holland and Chris Pratt respectively), undergoing a quest to temporarily resurrect their father is so fantastic because it is, indeed, Scanlon’s own tale — perhaps not with the biker gang fairies and manticore restaurateurs that Onward purports, but nonetheless deeply rooted in his own quest to grapple with his father’s passing, his own older brother firmly at his side. It’s one of Pixar’s most emotionally resonant and richly poignant films, imbued with so much joy and so much sadness that its own shortcomings as a fantasy – clever in the sight-gags, unimaginative for everything else – are excusable in favour of its majesty as a human story. Add in two remarkably heartfelt performances by both Tom Holland and, begrudgingly, Chris Pratt, and Onward is upward for the Pixar brand.
#06. Luca (2021)
DIR: Enrico Casarosa
If nothing else Luca is a gleeful exultation of the rapture found in youth – an unabashed celebration, rooted in the simple yet effective story of two sea-monster pals finding each other with the world seemingly dead set against them, of friendship and what makes an individual themselves. The queer-coding and subsequent lack of direct representation may be seen as problematic, but Luca is fundamentally an allegory for any form of discrimination, homosexual or otherwise, that one can be felt and conceived, wherein the titular Luca’s own journey into acceptance could mirror any single one of a million likeminded journeys (perhaps without the gills) worldwide. There is something innately comforting about the safety of Luca when compared to the more outlandish of Pixar’s efforts, evoking the blissful warmth of Summer like a child yearning for adventure.
#05. Soul (2020)
DIR: Pete Docter and Kemp Powers
The fact that Soul is a Pixar film for adults, half-heartedly catering for the children dragged along to see it, is not even close to the most remarkable thing about it, is, in itself, a remarkably remarkable feat. It does, of course, feature the same high-pitched comic relief, cute animals and sequences of delightfully abstract animation that often defines contemporary family fare, but in its ambitious attempts to muse on the meaning of life, backed by a gorgeously realistic portrait of New York City and housing a cacophony of wonderfully inventive characters and concepts, Soul is a tour-de-force achievement to add on Pixar’s resume, one startlingly mature in its ideals without ever sacrificing the broader appeal. It’s ending does somewhat undermine the otherwise unimpeachable gravitas, disregarding the stakes that came before it, but given it is, by technicality, a children’s film and, nonetheless, manages to distil the intricacies of philosophy down to a child’s understanding, I’d be remiss to not forgive it and then some. Soul is far from a perfect mediation on the philosophical ramblings of life itself, but if philosophy were ever perfect then it’d be no fun to begin with.
#04. Coco (2017)
DIR: Adrian Molina and Lee Unkrich
Even before its heartstopping rendition of “Remember Me” in the climax, Coco is a spectacularly imagined evocation of what it means to be alive. There are some notable contradictions between how death is portrayed between this and Soul (The Pixar Theory just shuddered) but fundamentally Coco is an exploration of the central culture and values it embodies rather than a blanket statement, transporting the audience, alongside young boy Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez), on a spiritual journey into the Land of the Dead to discover the power of memory and what legacies we leave behind, immersing ourselves in the family and friends made, from loss, along the way. The gorgeously unique style and colours only seek to enrich the story and its characters, telling a story about death that, much like Soul, only makes life seem all the more powerful and strong.
#03. Ratatouille (2007)
DIR: Brad Bird
Ratatouille is a quintessential example of what Pixar does best: it takes a clever, imaginative premise, often involving animals or sentient objects, and uses it tell a profoundly human story. The gorgeous Parisian glow that lights Ratatouille‘s streets, as well as the loveably impish smirk of Patton Oswald’s Remy, a rat whose love for cooking makes him an unofficial chef at one of Paris’s top restaurants, create a distinctly Brad Birdian film brimming with personality and character. Watching a rat scurry around the kitchen may be unsettling for some (and God only knows their impressive organisation skills in the climax are terrifying), but as maligned as they often are it’s hard to dislike any of them in Ratatouille — Pixar manages to take a rat and make him a genuinely sympathetic hero (down to the fact I’m referring to him as a person, not an “it”), which at this point is more a flex of their power than anything else.
#02. Inside Out (2015)
DIR: Pete Docter
The idea that sadness is not just a viable emotion, but in some ways an essential one, is perhaps the bravest, most single-minded message any animated film has tackled since Steamboat Willie whistled down the river in 1928. Inside Out, fundamentally, is a genius film: an abstract odyssey of emotion as five personified emotions – Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyliss Smith, my spirit animal), Disgust (Mindy Kailing), Anger (Lewis Black) and Fear (Bill Hader) – struggle to cope when teenage girl Riley (Kaitlyn Dias) is unwillingly moved to San Francisco by her parents. The subsequent exploration of Riley’s mind is filled with every pun and whimsical sight gag one could dream of, exploring what makes a human – and a teenage girl, in particular – tick with remarkable detail. It’s a poignant adventure, tinged with all five emotions above, that combines the very best of every Pixar film together and evokes something truly magical as a result.
#01. Up (2009)
DIR: Pete Docter (Again!)
Watching the first ten minutes of Up as a wee-boy, at just over six teeny-tiny years of age, was sad, obviously, but not heartbreaking – I understood the death, barely, but was oblivious to everything else. It took a rewatch years later, in the prime of my life, to truly understand the profound tragedy in its entirety – the choice of music, the allusions to miscarriage, the love and happiness that blooms before wilting into loneliness and despair. It’s the best short film Pixar has ever made – although the four-thousand and twelve Cars cash-ins obviously come close – and yet everything after is just as brilliant: loveable heroes that organically evolve and form, together, families out of the darkest places in one of the most heartfelt, human and deeply humbling films not just from Pixar, but arguably of all time. Plus, any animal lover who doesn’t see Dug as the Greatest Movie Character ever made – although, again, the four thousand and thirteen unique cars across the Cars (cash-in) franchise do obviously come close – is fooling themselves, because Up would not be the same with- SQUIRREL!
Film Scribe 