Finding Nemo reached world-wide success, charming audiences with it’s family friendly accessibility, superior and trademark Pixar animation, and lovable characters. It stuck to a familiar tune with it’s messages and themes; That “Parents shouldn’t be so overprotective,” “You are not defined by your limitations,” and “If you have enough determination, you can overcome any adversity and anything is possible.” These themes are important and radiate with fans of all ages, but it wasn’t what made me fall in love with this movie. I fell in love with the creativity. The fish that ‘drops off’ her kids to school by opening her mouth, as if she is a minivan. The group of sharks that are trying to kick their addiction to fish. The parenting philosophies that are pure poetry and gibberish from a sea turtle. The animation that is so exquisite you don’t understand how those jellyfish are technologically possible. Marlin and Dory hitching a ride inside a whale because, you know, Dory speaks whale. And the dialogue is great. I have every line of dialogue memorized. To this day, watching Marlin and Dory travel the ocean is still one of my favorite experiences.
When I heard they were making the sequel, Finding Dory, I was instantly nervous more than I was excited. Even though Pixar has a pretty decent track record for creating amazing films, they still have some pretty big mistakes in their catalogue (i.e.: All transportation vehicle movies, and most recently The Good Dinosaur.) This sequel would either be the best thing to ever happen or the worst. (This is now currently how I feel about the inevitable 3rd movie in the series to come.)
Andrew Stanton wrote and directed Finding Nemo, released in 2003, and would not cave to demands of when a sequel would be ready. It is to our benefit technologically that Finding Dory took 13 years to conceptualize. The digital advances are extraordinary and the attention to detail is exquisite. Who else, other than a Pixar animation team, would spend 2 years animating a grouchy septapus to perfection? As the animation team toiled away to create the visually perfect story, Stanton waited patiently for Dory’s story reveal itself.
In the Finding Dory movie commentary, Stanton talks about the fact that he had conceived Dory as a tragic character. Finding Nemo is a light hearted film and Dory is the beloved, forgetful sidekick. No one thought of her backstory as one filled with sadness. She is detached, misunderstood, and lost in a world without compassion. Finding Nemo introduced us to the underwater world Pixar created with the potential of harsh realities. Finding Dory takes place almost exclusively in the harsh realities of the world, in the ocean and beyond, while still remaining a family friendly film.
When Baby Dory came on screen I completely lost it, as did everyone else I’m sure. She is pure genius, Pixar. Well played. We were all hooked after Baby Dory told us that she suffered from “short term remembory loss,” and that “She liked sand because sand is squishy.” It broke our hearts to see that she grew up all alone. Not just without a family or friends, but without memories, without understanding, and completely isolated. She just kept swimming, armed with nothing except knowing she can’t remember anything, and she is looking for someone.
I have read many reviews that call this movie “safe,” “underwhelming,” or “that it fails to journey to new places.” Perhaps there is some truth to that, but I feel the importance of this movie is only being half acknowledged and then passed over far too quickly. Critics judge the plot threads and character developments as one note or unexplored, but they are failing to see the bigger picture this movie presents. Without trying or meaning to do so, Stanton has made an exceptionally honest and profound movie about what it means to live with a disability. This film is deceptively simple and quite successfully, depicts very real struggles for anyone living with a disability. What resonates so intensely is Stanton’s consideration of the infinite guilt the disabled live with. I live with a disability, and just like Dory, it is not something that can be seen. This is one of many key and fundamental differences between Finding Dory and Finding Nemo.
Nemo has a small fin which makes it more difficult for him to swim, but with fortitude he fights to be treated as any other fish, not defined by his physical disability. This familiar story of overcoming adversity is easily translated into inspirational films. While Dory and Nemo share this same message, their journeys are totally different, just like their disabilities.
Dory has memory issues, which is depicted as many mental disabilities are, extremely complicated. The movie suggests Dory is capable of remembering after spending enough time with people she knows, staying in familiar surroundings, and remaining calm. When she is upset, alone, or in unfamiliar places, she tends to enter a downward spiral, which is not uncommon to many processing disabilities and mental health issues. Dory is also portrayed as relatively functional and she puts on what I recognize as “the brave face.” I know that what I see as a “brave face” may actually just be Andrew Stanton’s excellent character relate-ability, but as someone with a disability, I see them as one in the same. My disability is a very complex, chronic pain condition involving the nerves in my brain. With the exception of a very close circle of friends (who quite honestly may not truly understand my disability), to the rest of the world, I am just like any other person. My “brave face” is my character relate-ability; The performance of being an upbeat, positive, energetic person who is a pain free, fully functioning adult. My disabled, pain filled reality never reaches the surface if I am outside my home. The only person who doesn’t see one version or another of my “brave face” on a regular basis is my husband. My inner circle and my family interact with a version of my “brave face” far more than my medical reality. It’s a more comfortable situation for all parties involved if I don’t “break character” and I’ve gotten very good at this performance with 16 years of practice.
I do not mean to suggest it is more difficult or challenging to live with a disability you cannot see. Whatever the circumstances someone lives with any disability, it is always challenging. Always. It doesn’t matter if it is visible, not visible, impacts your life greatly, or minimally, if you were born with it, or if it is a result of an unfortunate occurrence; It is always challenging.
I do absolutely mean to highlight the distinction of visible and invisible because I truly believe the world treats disabilities you can see very differently from ones that you can’t. I have lived it. There is a basic incapability to comprehend things you cannot see vs things you can see. There have been many times in my life where I have thought if I lived with a more ‘politically correct’ disability, a more common disorder, or at the very least something that people could see, I would not struggle with such overwhelming feelings of guilt. Being so misunderstood in my attempts at honesty have affected my relationships, just as Dory’s relationships are affected by her disability and persistent feelings of shame.
Guilt. It’s that knot in your stomach, the weight that sits on your chest, the worry that gnaws at you and presents itself in most situations, mundane or complex. This knot gets bigger and the weight is overbearing in the more obvious moments where someone is frustrated, worried, or upset. We know that our trusted friends and loved ones genuinely have no problem being accommodating. If they are frustrated or worried it comes from a place of love.
But our guilt takes over and “I can fix it,” is our mantra born of desperation, cloaked in contrition. There are many times it is Dory’s mission and I have shared the sense of urgency to “fix it,” whatever it is, for whoever I can, though most of the time we are trying to fix ourselves for those we love. When my friends and loved ones have snapped at me or when I am struggling with my disability, I feel as Dory feels; I see myself as ‘damaged,’ someone with a problem and I will always apologize for it and I beat myself up for it, as we see Dory do. When Dory is finally reunited with her parents, after they all embrace in happiness, the first thing she says is “I’m so sorry. I know I've got a problem, I know.”
So in an effort to “fix it,” we go find purple shells. I have been where Dory was, searching for a purple shell to make her Mother smile. I have looked for simple gestures to let my parents and loved ones know and to believe that I am able, that I am okay, or that I will be okay. The best way for us to prove we are able, we are okay, is simply to live our lives and prove it. But when we stumble and fall, when we go through a hard time, disability related or otherwise, our “brave face” doesn’t always carry us through. So we need purple shells. I am in my 30s and I still stumble, I get back up, and I still search for purple shells.
Dory’s “brave face,” like mine, is how she manages to function throughout her life. She is the endless and eternal optimist. She is brave. She is outgoing. She is lovable. We root for Dory and we are crushed by her past experiences because we love her, even though we may not fully understand her. When you live with a disability, the eventual lack of understanding inevitably leads to more complicated emotions for everyone involved and oftentimes more frustration. Our “brave face,” keeps all of that at bay. It protects you from having to deal with our situation, but it protects us just as much. It is a way for all of us to just keep swimming.
I’m aware that these emotional and psychological complexities are apparent to me due to my obvious bias and unique perspective. I’d like to believe that Andrew Stanton and all the other people who contributed to Finding Dory made these choices purposely and hoped people would pick up on them, as subtle as they are, but I can’t make that claim with any certainty.
Finding
Nemo and Finding Dory and their
explorations of disabilities will influence young generations without them even
realizing it. The family-friendly angle of these movies make their messages
that much more accessible, which is nothing short of brilliant. Finding Dory was never conceived to be a
deliberate, over-politically correct, movie about disabilities, visible or
invisible. Never the less, Finding Dory
has achieved the most emotional depth of any animated movie I have ever watched.
This masterpiece of cinema is soul crushing, straightforward, insightful and
quite literally the best animated movie ever made.
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