A tear duct-bothering celebration of life, death, music, and memory.

I think we all learnt a long time ago that Pixar aren’t in this to mess around. If Pixar come for your tears, you better be damn good and ready to hand them over. Though their output has been a tad patchy of late, there’s no denying that they’ve still got what it takes to give your emotions a good pounding when necessary.

Through nineteen feature-length outings, the studio has possessed the nimbleness and dexterity to pull on your heartstrings from a number of different angles; yet, from sifting through their output’s various elements, there are three distinct ways Pixar films effectively attack from.

By delving into the key ingredients of memory, age, and loss; Pixar have built a foolproof, three-pronged attack on your tear ducts that, whether it’s through the medium of toys, clownfish, or geriatric loners; holds the ability to hit everyone in one way or another. Whether we care to admit it or not, every one of these components are inherent to the journey we all embark upon as humans and, by playing directly to these truths, Pixar are able to conjure up the magic that has made them all but peerless in the modern animation game.

Some may touch upon one or two of these components, yet few films in Pixar’s illustrious vault have been able to incorporate the concepts of memory, loss, and age in one go. By not only folding all three into its mix, but making every one of them absolutely key to its narrative, Coco succeeds in becoming one of the most emotionally potent Pixar efforts to date.

Despite his family’s ban on music, Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez) dreams of following in the footsteps of his idol - world-famous musician, Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt). In a desperate attempt to prove his musical talent to both his family and the world, Miguel unwittingly finds himself whisked away to the Land of the Dead after borrowing Ernesto’s famous guitar from his mausoleum. Discovering that he’s been cursed, Miguel must return to the Land of the Living before sunrise or he will become one of the dead forever. With the help of charming trickster, Hector (Gael García Bernal), Miguel sets out to receive the blessing he needs to return home and unlock the mystery behind his family history.

Coco is a great film. In fact, it’s a bloody fantastic film that, while it’s not quite up at the very top of the Pixar food chain, has to be regarded as one of the most pivotal moments in the studio’s history. From monsters to rats to superheroes; to date, Pixar have covered all angles in their mission to offer some of the finest animated stories out here; yet, after 22 years in the business, the studio are finally attempting something that hits a little bit closer to home.

Granted, we’re still talking about a world of talking skeletons and neon spirit animals here, yet Coco represents a real-world grounding that not even Up or Wall-E can touch. By thoroughly and wholeheartedly delving into the customs of Mexico’s Día de Muertos celebrations, Pixar have, for the very first time, allowed themselves the pleasure of embracing and interpreting a culture that is very much part of our reality.

The attempt to tackle such a culturally significant celebration as the Day of the Dead is an important one for Pixar and demonstrates an admirable willingness to embrace something outside the realms of either pure fantasy, or western culture entirely. But, while the attempts to embrace and celebrate such a culture is to be commended, it does bring significant pressure to represent it correctly and to show the customs the respect they deserve.

Bubbling away on Pixar’s backburner for the best part of eight years, Coco has taken its sweet time getting here but, during this period of development, there’s clearly been a concerted effort to get things just right and it’s paid off in droves with a film that’s positively dripping in the culture it portrays. When any Pixar film rumbles on the way Coco has, there’s always the worry it could end up a muddled mess like The Good Dinosaur; yet it doesn’t take long to realise that clearly isn’t the case here.

In an interesting parallel with Disney’s Moana, Pixar have gone out of there way with Coco to explore a culture often overlooked and frequently misunderstood on the world stage. In a tumultuous political climate of walls and ‘bad hombres’, and as we strive to make the world a better and fairer place for everyone; the decision by the world’s premiere animation studio to portray a much maligned country like Mexico in such a vibrant and positive light, should not be understated.

Sidestepping any claims of whitewashing altogether, Coco takes the incredibly refreshing move of employing an entirely Latino voice cast (the first film with a nine-digit budget to do so) and, in one fell swoop, Pixar have created a stunning piece of feature animation, dripping with love, life, culture, and authenticity. The energy flowing through the voices, the soundtrack and the visuals is positively infectious; but, as a perfect embodiment of Día de Muertos itself, Coco’s joyful exuberance and celebration are inevitably tinged with sadness.

While Coco, like the holiday at its heart, is a film full to the brim with colour and festivity, that doesn’t mask the unavoidable dark cloud hanging over it. Fully earning its PG rating, Coco pulls no punches in discussing the notion of death and, as such, should be approached with caution if taking particularly young ones to watch it. Loss, death, and the concept of remembrance are undoubtedly important subjects to explore, and Coco does a fantastic job in doing so; yet the emotional heft may, at times, be a little too much for younger hearts to bear.

However, this is Pixar we’re talking about here, so no matter how weighty the subject matter gets, it’s always handled with a lightness of touch that few studios (animation or not) can match. Yes, this is a film built entirely around the concept of dying; yet, above all else, it’s an unabashed celebration of life and the legacy of our ancestors. Like all good Pixar films, Coco is a double-edged sword of emotion; so, while parents may want to prep themselves for some potentially awkward questions on their way out of the theatre, this shouldn’t distract from the film’s unmitigated joy.

From Michael Giacchino’s wonderfully evocative score, to the toe-tapping collection of original songs (including the heart-breaking ‘Remember Me’), to the Land of the Dead’s colour explosion; Coco is dripping with more than enough life to avoid it becoming an overly morbid affair. Though we’ve been to the afterlife before in criminally underrated The Book of Life, and with Tim Burton’s Corpse; Pixar being Pixar have doubled-down on all fronts to delve straight into the colourful heart of Día de Muertos as a concept and a celebration.

As one might expect, considering the plot, music is Coco’s lifeblood but, even as the jangling guitars, Mariachi beats, and Latino rhythms guide us through our journey of life and death, it’s the film’s visuals that really hammer home the message. Coco is a feast for the eyes and, while you’d expect nothing less from Pixar, there’s a pop and a vibrancy present that we just haven’t seen yet from the studio.

As we’re whisked away to the Land of the Dead in a cloud of Mexican marigold petals, Coco offers up a visually exuberant world of neon colour, unbounded imagination, and beautifully innovative character design that’s a match for anything else in the Pixar universe. Coco is chockfull of visual splendour and the kind of satisfying detail we’ve grown accustom to from the studio, with the only real disappointment being that we’re not afforded more time to soak it all in.

For all its visual and musical splendour, however; what holds Coco back from the absolute top of the Pixar tree is its familiarity. As mentioned, both The Book of Life and Corpse Bride have tackled very similar subject matter, while the film’s major plot points feel borrowed from a number of previous Pixar efforts, causing the whole film to feel a little narratively lightweight at times. While there are one or two cleaver plot twists along the way and there’s more than enough going on elsewhere to keep things ticking along nicely, the writing just doesn’t quite pop the way it does with stone cold Pixar classics like Toy Story or Finding Nemo.

Regardless of familiarity though, Coco’s plot packs in an incredible amount of fun for all ages; acting as a steady platform for an affective and emotionally resonant adventure that makes no bones (pun very much intended) with exploring its dark subject matter, while simultaneously celebrating life in all forms in an infectious blast of colour, energy, and music.

Wrapped up in a visual razzle dazzle most animations can only dream of, Coco is an absolute gut-punch of a film, but in all the best ways. This is the kind of thing that Pixar have become masters of, as they return to the potent themes of loss, age, and memory that have served them so well through the years. Operating like Up in reverse, Coco builds steadily to a crescendo every bit as devastating on the tear ducts as its predecessor’s opening minutes; all without losing sight of its mission to celebrate life, love, and those that we lose along the way. It may not be peak-Pixar but, as both an authentic and timely celebration of a sorely misunderstood culture, and a reminder of the importance of remembrance to our personal life journeys; Coco is surely one of their most important offerings yet.