Woe is Soul. A fantastic new Pixar movie that’s getting flak from predictable directions.
I’m not going to talk about Wonder Woman 84. We watched that first. How starved must we be before we find THAT movie satisfying? With it’s SyFy special effects and ill-defined interior logic, it’s grasping sentimentality and groaningly over-blown sense of message and self-importance – if it wasn’t for just how good the cast was I think I would’ve turned it off once it became clear that the Loving reproduction of my high school-era Georgetown wasn’t going to reappear. Shame. Because now I ALSO know how much they blew DC Universe continuity apart – but that’s neither here nor there.
Because I’m not going to talk about Wonder Woman 84.
But I AM gonna talk about Pixar’s new movie Soul because it meant a lot to my own personal narrative so spoiler alert etc…
Soul was a beautiful movie. Beautifully animated, beautifully written and beautifully realized. I’m sad that it’s getting flak for the ways in which it depicts race – especially since from the outside (e.g. as a white male for whom in theory all things are actually made) it seemed sensitive and only cartoonish insomuch as it was a cartoon. A white woman taking over a black man’s body has at least an attempt at an in-universe solve and I don’t think the movie’s at ALL saying that her specific inclusion into the narrative was the magic spark for Joe’s self-development… I mean… it WAS – but not because she was white or he was black. Soul’s about art.
At least for me.
Soul was a beautiful movie. Beautifully animated, beautifully written and beautifully realized. And I feel like it was made by artists for artists. Not white male artists. Not black male artists. Not even white female comedians or the eternally fascinating Richard Maurice Moss Ayoade. It’s about CREATORS.
As artists we get wrapped up in the mere act of survival – and as we do the things we need to do to SURVIVE – whether it’s selling our work, working the day job, teaching – we have constant narratives bombarding us that both literally devalue our art (surely doing what you LOVE is payment enough! We’ll pay you with EXPOOOOSURE!!!), devalue our professions (those who can’t do, TEACH!!!!) and build up the Impossible Ideal of DISCOVERY (all I need is that One Gig, that Right View, That Thousandth Like, That Millionth Subscribe).
We all have impossible dreams. Few of us realize them to the fullest extent and those few who do still seem to be rife with imposter syndrome, self-doubt and new problems – and yet I don’t think I’ve ever QUITE seen this particular very very real tale told before. We’ve seen the Price of Success story. We’ve seen the Happiness is Better Than Success Anyhow story. We’ve seen the Chosen Ones and the Lucky Breaks. We’ve seen the Jealous Hard Worker Finally Comes into their Own and the Suck Up Slacker Finally Gets their Come Uppance stories.
We’ve seen the story where the artist missed the professional opportunity or Love opportunity or the beautiful girl opportunity conveniently pining right before their eyes the whole time… but I don’t think it’s ever been hammered down how we can ignore the Lives of those around us. How we forget our effect on those surrounding us. How we can forget the people who are integral to our world simply because we forget that… not everyone’s an artist and that’s okay.
Not everyone uses the Force – right? But it’s the thing that surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together. But we can’t spend all our time looking to the future and throwing droids around.
People find different paths. Some people don’t ABANDON their dream, they find new ones. And Living our Lives with new directions REQUIRES us to find satisfaction in those directions, not constantly longing for another path or the closed door.
It requires being willing to discover that we’re good at something other than what we thought we were good at. And Loving it.
I don’t know that I’ve seen that particular story before. Or maybe it’s particularly poignant as I see more success and brush elbows with more fame that I’ve ever done as a musician because I’m helping people stream. Glorified personable IT to hundreds of people over COVID. Not where I saw my story leading.
I know it’s not where my story’s ending – unless I step into a manhole and die with my story incomplete – but trying to find satisfaction where we ARE and WHO we are, in balance with striving for something greater… I know there’s romance to the tortured artist, but I assure you, there’s very, very little romance to actually BEING the tortured artist.
Soul was a beautiful movie and it spoke to me very specifically about art and fame and dreaming big dreams – and remembering to be stunned by those around you and to not just talk about yourself and your art. Joe Gardner didn’t discover community in a barbershop or have eye-opening moments in Life because he’d been divorced from his blackness or because a white woman was required to finally talk to his mother… he needed to be divorced from his ART and get his head out of his own ass for long enough to realize there was a world out there that wasn’t jazz.
There was absolutely a reason he was trying to JOIN a band for his big break and wasn’t STARTING a band and hunting his big break. He couldn’t see past himself or his canvas to the people around him. He was obsessed with being DISCOVERED and forgotten about DISCOVERY.
I think one of my oldest lyrics still stands unnervingly true… “you can’t be human and an artist too – you’ve got to give one up when the day is through”. You can trade those mantles back and forth perhaps, but teetering over the edge from art to obsession is a dangerous way to lose… well… your soul.
Beautiful movie. Great art. For artists.
1 thought on “December 27th, 2020. Soul. For artists by artists.”
Such an amazingly evolved treatise on all of our lives and points of view… As always thanks for sharing your thoughts!