Coco: A Story of the Dead Brought To Life (Review)
You might think that a story about the dead isn’t the most appropriate or interesting concept to feature in a children’s film, let alone a Disney Pixar release. And you’d probably be right, on first glance. But the recently-released Coco defies all expectation with a thoughtful portrayal of Mexican culture and music, a touching and twisting narrative and colourful characters and production. It is yet another addition to the animation giant’s portfolio teaching both children and adults some essential lessons about life — and death.
Coco follows the adventures of twelve-year-old Miguel, starting in his hometown of Santa Cecilia, Mexico. Since an ancestor abandoned his wife and daughter to pursue his musical dreams, music has been banned in Miguel’s family for generations and they have forgotten the artist’s identity. Miguel’s struggle between obeying this and pursuing his own, secret passion for music and discovering the truth forms the film’s central conflict, and leads him into all sorts of trouble — including visiting The Land of the Dead on Día de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead), the Mexican festival of remembering ancestors and encouraging them to return and be honoured in the land of the living.
The very concept introduces death as a natural and accepted part of life and culture, as it is in Mexico, exemplified by their annual festival. This is a powerful and uncommon idea in the genre, celebrating instead of fearing, and could be an act aimed to encourage more conversation about a possibly taboo subject within families. It is a difficult thing to attempt, but Disney Pixar convey their story with conviction, steeping its narrative and characters not only in cultural beliefs and legends but also daily life and real world elements. The Land of the Dead acts as what is essentially a fantasy land — following in the footsteps of the many Disney kingdoms and seeming otherworldly with its stunning colours and spirit animal alebrijes — while managing to remain familiar and entertaining in its mirroring of our world. This is unsurprising given that it is loosely based on the real Guanajuato in central Mexico. With everything from strict border control — and some immigration connotations besides — to lavish celebrity parties contrasting with ghettos for forgotten souls displaying class divides, it shares some of our world’s beauty and our issues.
Many culturally reflective and accurate elements feature in Miguel’s Mexico: the altar-like ofrendas, the orange marigold petals forming a bridge between the two worlds, the papel picado banners for the festival, the matriarchal structure of Miguel’s family and even sidekick Dante, clearly inspired by an old breed of native, hairless dog. Disney Pixar clearly endeavoured to portray Coco with sensitivity and respect to the people that inspired it, but this wasn’t always well-achieved. They were met with uproars on social media and from the Mexican-American community when they tried to trademark Día de los Muertos in 2013, and were forced to withdraw their application. However, they recruited several Latino consultants following this — in itself a positive move away from appropriation — and the truthful, cultural energy is impossible to deny in the finished product. This can only be confirmed by the extent of its astonishing reception in Mexico; it is now the highest grossing film in the country’s history, celebrated by screenwriter Juan Manual Meyer as ‘giving Mexicans a voice and a face’. In such turbulent political times, Coco is certainly something to teach, encourage awareness of others and bring many people together.
Coco also inevitably follows in the footsteps of 2016’s Moana, the story of a Polynesian girl’s journey to save her people from destruction, by navigating the seas and enlisting a demigod’s help. The question around increasing diversity within Disney, Pixar and film in general has been a prominent one for years, but they seem to be setting both an example and a trend for themselves. And not only are the studios building a record of accurate portrayals of varied and little-represented cultures, also box office successes, they are gaining a reputation for being masters of introducing difficult topics to children through film. Coco’s discussion of death extends far beyond its central concept and astonishingly lovable, character-infused walking dead, so very far from what could have been creepy skeletons. The characters experience death within the film, including the threat of a final death once ancestors are forgotten, and even dementia through the eponymous great-grandmother, Coco. With Inside Out dealing with mental health and emotions and Zootropolis dealing with racism and prejudice, Disney Pixar are inherently creating an avenue of inclusive messages through which children can learn to understand complex issues. Some might wonder if it is too much to ask them to tackle such subjects. I can only agree with others asking how many essential but tricky concepts to describe have been made visually accessible, and how many conversations have been initiated or made easier, because of such films.
Coco is a children’s animation, its narrative largely conforming to Disney Pixar’s classic storytelling rules, but its effects are far from merely simple or entertaining. I can think of few films in any genre that have dealt with death in such a sensitive and genuinely emotion-evoking manner, and in combining this with cultural celebration and representation, surely it has no equal. So whether you’re interested in top-notch animation, fabulous music from award-winning songwriters, being reminded of the importance of family and living life to the full, educating your children or experiencing a little of a beautiful other culture, Coco has got something for you. Don’t miss out!
