Pixar’s Soul Fails to Fully Understand What It Means to Be a Black Person in America
I spent yesterday watching Pixar’s newest movie, Soul, and despite knowing the movie’s mixed response from Black viewers, a wince of surprise still hit me when, before ten full minutes had passed, our protagonist, Joe Gardner (Jamie Foxx), became a disembodied spirit.
As I watched the movie play out, I felt myself remembering The Princess and the Frog, the 2009 Disney animated film that gave us the first Black Disney Princess but had her spend the bulk of the movie as a frog. Both of these films have an uncomfortable amount in common, but I find myself frustrated about one thing in particular: what they have to say about work.
In many ways, the moral core of Soul is the idea of missing the point of life and how having your “dream” is nothing if you miss moments—which … is almost the same thing as Tiana’s whole character journey in her film. She was missing out on love and friendship because she was so concerned about her dream that she didn’t loosen up.
There is nothing wrong with these messages on the surface, but in the case of both films (helmed by white directors and writers), they ignore one thing—Blackness.
I understood Joe in a lot of ways: working a job close to what you love, having to constantly think about job security versus the big dream, and being a Black person in New York City—not to mention a sense of discomfort talking to people about who you are.
The idea that you have to be “twice as good” to succeed is something Black people are familiar with. That is especially true in a city where everyone has their own dreams. The other disembodied soul, 22 (Tina Fey), has a freedom to do whatever she pleases and find herself, and that, at its core, is a white woman’s privilege. While, yes, the movie makes it clear that 22 is genderless and has no race, by casting Tina Fey in the role, her whiteness is loud and present.
When I watch Soul and see how much care and attention it took in getting the hair correct or the messy glory of the New York City subway system—which, Hera help me, I miss—it still doesn’t feel like it fully gets the Blackness of its protagonist. And I don’t mean just the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments, but the immersive Blackness that comes from a Black creative team.
Why is it that when Black characters in this movie have dreams and aspirations that they give their heart to, the end message is “Have you taken time to smell the roses?” In almost every other Disney movie, our one-friend-having protagonist gives up almost everything for an intangible dream of fulfillment and is rewarded for it in the end. So why isn’t that the case with Soul and with Tiana? Why, in the two movies featuring Black leads in Disney animated films, are our dreams and the passion with which we fight for them seen as a bad thing?
(image: Pixar)
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