Despite an Utter Dearth of Naked Breasts and Car Chases, Pixar’s Finding Nemo Still Works

Pixar Animation has a knack for taking worthwhile values and exhibiting them through the personification of various critters and/or inanimate (yet animated!) objects - imbuing them with distinctly human characteristics and using them to demonstrate very real aspects of humanity in a sometimes trite, but usually effective, manner. We’ve seen it through talking toys, misunderstood - yet good-hearted - bugs, monster anti-heroes, and now, in their latest effort, through cartoon clownfish with strong familial bonds.

I watched Finding Nemo with my son, and, through the course of this movie - even though it was based around the trials of freaking cartoon fish - it helped to amplify the already painfully acute tenderness and empathy I feel for my boy, and through it’s thematic exploration of paternal love, risk of loss, and sacrifice, forced my mind into painful places that it needs to go. I left the theatre holding his hand extra tight, looking upon him with an extra-appreciative awe, and mentally re-dedicating myself to fulfilling my role of father as whole-heartedly as I am capable. Even though this movie is geared towards kids and centered around entertainment (and succeeds in both aims), it is striking that it also has the substance to emotionally resonate with such power.

The protagonist, Marlin, is a tragic figure whose existence is haunted and stultified by extreme loss. In a disturbing (but not excessively so) scene rather reminiscent of Bambi’s loss of her mother in a much-earlier Disney flick, Marlin’s wife and all his children – excepting one, Nemo – are killed by a predator. As such, Marlin’s life becomes Nemo-centric – his son is all he has left, the only thing of worth remaining in his life. And he loves Nemo wholly, with the side effect that the love is inadvertently overprotective and cloying. He will not allow Nemo – a physically damaged, but emotionally vivacious child – any independence, as he is fully cognizant (and constantly gripped by fear) of danger and risk.

And, as one might expect in such a movie, in Nemo’s first attempt at asserting the independence he desires, Marlin’s fears are realized. Nemo is “fishnapped” by a dentist cum deep-sea diver and earmarked for a life of captivity. This forces Marlin into the position of either fully embracing fear and defeatism along with the lack of meaning such a position entails, or building courage to attempt the most-likely futile effort to rescue his son though faced with nearly insurmountable obstacles.

He, of course, takes the less-traveled path and, in a show of defiance, takes on the entire ocean and all the dangers therein with a single-minded determination to be reunited with his son. Along the way, he picks up an unlikely traveling companion and comic sidekick, Dory, a Memento-like angelfish with a memory span of about 15 seconds.

The separation proves a frightening, but necessary, rite of passage for Nemo who is burdened with a far heavier dose of independence than he desires. But it is also somewhat of a rite of passage for Marlin, too, though not passage from childhood into maturity – rather passage from self-imposed enslavement to freedom from fear.

The animation is excellent with stunning seascapes and a bevy of top-notch aquatic characters. The voice characterization is also excellent – Marlin is voiced by Albert Brooks, Nemo by Alexander Gould, and Dory by Ellen DeGeneres. The story works marvelously. Though it runs a bit long for a children’s flick (100 minutes), it does not fail to captivate and enchant the audience throughout.

I recommend this movie to everyone, but especially to fathers and sons. In essence, a fish demonstrates what it means to be a man.


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