Set the mood with some music!
I'm away this week, in the Happiest Place on Earth - Walt Disney World. So instead of a current movie review, I'm taking a look back at some of my favorite Disney/Pixar films of all time. I didn't include Inside Out here, because that is part of my top 10 favorites, so I figured you guy knew I loved that one...
"Remember me, though I have to say goodbye..."
I walked into Coco with pretty low expectations, I won't like. The trailers had me expecting colorful visuals, perhaps a catchy song, and maybe a tear or two... it's Pixar, so they're good at that. What I got was a transcendent film about family, culture, legacy, and memory that absolutely crushed me in the best possible way. This isn’t just a story about a kid who wants to play music. It’s a story about honoring where you come from and understanding the people who came before you. It’s about the love we leave behind.
Pixar has always excelled at emotional storytelling, but Coco might be their most sincere film. Miguel’s journey into the Land of the Dead is vibrant and thrilling, but what elevates it is how grounded it feels in actual tradition and lived experience. There’s real reverence here for Mexican culture, for Dia de los Muertos, and for the idea that the dead live on as long as we remember them. That’s such a powerful concept, and Pixar handles it with such grace.
The music is incredible, not just because it's catchy, but because it's so deeply embedded in the characters and the story. Every note in Coco feels earned. And when Miguel sings to his great-grandmother at the end? I completely lost it. I still do. I literally weep every single time. Coco is a film about death that bursts with life. A modern classic and one of Pixar's most underrated films.
"When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful..."
Everyone has their favorite Toy Story movie. For some, it’s the original for kicking things off. For others, it’s the emotional gut-punch of Toy Story 3. But for me? Toy Story 2 has always been the crown jewel. This is where Pixar really started to flex their storytelling muscles. Woody confronting his own mortality (toy-tality?) and place in the world is surprisingly deep stuff. Jessie’s backstory wrecked me as a kid and still hits like a ton of bricks as an adult. It was the first time I remember watching an animated movie and thinking, "Whoa, that was... real."
There was an interview given by Tom Hanks and Tim Allen, who voice Woody and Buzz respectful, about this movie. How, when Jessie's scene came on, this movie wasn't about a toy. It was about growing up. About the loss of innocence we all have. Pixar didn't just make a movie for kids and adults alike. They made a movie about what it's like for a kid to BECOME an adult.
It’s also laugh-out-loud funny. Buzz versus Buzz. The airport chase. The cleaner scene! And it’s got one of the best blooper reels of all time. This movie walks the line between silly and soulful better than almost any Pixar film. And it deserves way more credit than it usually gets.
"No capes!"
This one is just cool. The design, the characters, the pacing. Everything about The Incredibles feels effortlessly stylish and expertly crafted. But it's also a deeply personal story about a family trying to reconnect. The Parrs aren’t just superheroes; they’re people trying to figure out how to balance the mundane with the extraordinary.
Brad Bird’s direction is on another level. There’s a retro-futuristic feel that makes the movie timeless. Every action scene is crisp and easy to follow, but what really blew me away was the family dynamic. Helen and Bob arguing about dinner and danger in the same breath. Dash and Violet slowly figuring out who they are. Jack-Jack being... Jack-Jack. It all just works.
And of course, we can’t talk about The Incredibles without Syndrome. One of Pixar’s best villains. The fanboy turned bad guy. It’s commentary on celebrity culture, nostalgia, and toxic fandom all rolled into one. Also, shoutout to Michael Giacchino’s jazz-infused score, which slaps to this day.
"WALL-E... EEEEVA..."
When I first say this movie, I turned it off after 20 minutes. I was so bored! Nothing happened! No talking, no action. It was just... cleaning basically.
What an IDIOT.
WALL-E is a marvel. The first 40 minutes are nearly wordless and yet filled with more depth, loneliness, and charm than most full scripts. WALL-E himself is a cinematic triumph. He’s clunky, curious, tender, and somehow completely lovable. The love story between him and EVE is beautiful in its simplicity. It’s not about grand gestures. It’s about holding hands. It’s about companionship.
And then there’s the commentary. WALL-E manages to deliver a cautionary tale about environmental destruction, consumerism, and the dangers of convenience without ever feeling preachy. It makes you laugh, it makes you cry, and it leaves you thinking long after the credits roll.
The animation is gorgeous, the sound design is award-worthy, and the fact that Ben Burtt created WALL-E’s voice and so many of his emotions through sound alone? Genius.
"Anyone can cook."
This is the movie that made me want to learn how to make an omelet (it didn't work out). Not because it taught me, but because it made cooking feel like an act of passion, artistry, and love. Ratatouille isn’t just about food. It’s about identity, about challenging expectations, about finding your voice.
Remy is one of the best Pixar protagonists because he’s driven not by a big mission or a tragic backstory, but by pure creative fire. He just wants to cook. That’s it. And somehow, in a movie filled with talking rats and cartoon chefs, that simple desire feels real. Anton Ego’s speech at the end is Pixar at their most poetic: a defense of risk, of new voices, and of creative courage.
The animation of the food is unbelievable. You can practically smell the butter and garlic through the screen. And Michael Giacchino’s score? Absolute perfection. This is the third time in 2 week's he's been mentioned... legend. There’s a rhythm and bounce to everything in Ratatouille, and it makes the whole movie feel like a dance.
It may be a bit underrated compared to some of Pixar’s bigger hits, but to me, Ratatouille is one of their most inspiring and joyful films.
Narrowing Pixar down to just five favorites feels borderline impossible. There’s so much brilliance across their catalog, but these five films hit me in that perfect sweet spot: technically masterful, emotionally resonant, and endlessly rewatchable. Whether it’s the tear-jerking melodies of Coco, the soul-searching of Toy Story 2, the cool swagger of The Incredibles, the quiet poetry of WALL-E, or the joyful artistry of Ratatouille, each one means something different to me. They’ve made me cry, laugh, reflect, and even cook (I mean, burning things is still technically cooking). They’re the kind of movies that grow with you, and if you’re lucky, become part of your story. Pixar doesn't just make animated films. They made modern myths. Stories of growing up, family, love, death. All of this from an animation studio. Wild.
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