Growing up is hard. Growing up is messy. And in Turning Red, growing up also means transforming into a big red panda that will appear when you’re most emotionally fragile. It’s an unenviable position for any 13-year-old, especially if you pride yourself on being perfect, like Meilin ‘Mei’ Lee – the brave hero of Pixar’s latest feature film, which explores what it means to be yourself. Through the power of friendship, metaphor and pop music, director Domee Shi crafts a journey that wants you to be you and “make room” for the parts of yourself you may find undesirable, as Mei’s father puts it.

What does ‘making room’ look like for Turning Red? The answer lies in the movie's central conflict between Mei and her mother, Ming. Mei’s struggle with the panda is a rite of passage Ming also experienced as a kid, but the methods and strategy she used to overcome it point to unresolved trauma that risks repeating itself. The film oscillates between Mei’s desire to keep the panda, or to seal it away like her mother did and wants her to. This mirrors Mei’s struggle between being a perfect daughter and embracing her own interests, which, as she puts it, are “boys”, “loud music” and “gyrating”.

The red panda as a metaphor for puberty is somewhat overstated in this respect. It’s certainly what drives the first act, easing us into the rest of the film, but it also comes to represent Mei’s rebelliousness, individuality, and the bond of family. The inner-spirit world where Mei’s ultimate decision must be made is depicted as a quiet forest.

To access this place requires a ritual powered by song, which in the final act involves the boy band Mei and her friends are obsessed with – 4*Town, a primary source of conflict between Mei and Ming, who poetically end up saving the latter from permanent, relapsed panda-fication. In this set piece, the film’s ethos of wearing what you love on your sleeve is extra-noticeable through its homage to Japanese influences. For Ming, the panda is monstrous in the grandest scale you can imagine. Although no specific kaiju is referenced, Godzilla, as the quintessential skyscraper creature, is most relevant here as a monster of humanity’s making – a tragic cautionary tale that is now more of a pop-culture mascot akin to Elmo. It’s an appropriately tongue-in-cheek, but narratively earned, moment when Panda-Ming appears in downtown Toronto.

Counterbalancing this portrayal of the panda is one of my favourite small moments from the movie. To help rescue Ming, Mei’s four aunties line up and race towards the action in a story beat that’s equal parts Tokusatsu (Japanese special-effects-heavy shows like Ultraman) and a ‘magical girl’ transformation. The camera swoops past each talisman that contains their respective panda, and one synchronised impact frame later they’re the Panda Rangers. In today’s episode, they’re here to show Mei that no matter how tough it gets, her family will show up for her one way or another. Even if it means turning red themselves.

It is no secret that animation continues to be treated as something you grow out of – so where does Turning Red fit in? This year’s Academy Awards saw the usual jokes about the medium being no more than a way to pass the time for children. Turning Red is prime material for such jokes; its goofy exterior further fuelling this sentiment. Unapologetically cute, it is antithetical to the more prestigious movies we tend to trot out to defend what we love, like Grave of the Fireflies or The Breadwinner. But rather than performing the usual roll-call of animated movies made for adults (as much as I love them too), it is instead worth unpacking the attitude we develop in response to these attacks.

Just because Turning Red istargeted at kids doesn’t mean it is any less worthy of flying the flag of what can be achieved in animation. Much like Ming’s own well-intentioned behaviour toward Mei, there is a possessiveness over what we love that demands it present itself in a certain way. For example, Shi resolves the third act with tender reconciliation, emphasising Ming’s trauma through the appearance of her inner child. This is noteworthy, but the praise the movie gets shouldn't be limited to the fact that it tackles such themes.

Disrespect to the artists and the mahi put into producing animated works is one thing, but the type of rhetoric that devalues animation as purely kids’ fare also nurtures a narrow lens of appreciation for the very thing we wish to appreciate and protect. In particular, older, male audiences would benefit from paying closer attention to Ming’s journey of embracing what feels embarrassing. For this reason, it was particularly cathartic to see director Céline Sciamma commend the movie simply for feeling seen by Mei’s growing pains as a dorky kid in a rush towards adulthood.

I mention Sciamma not as a voice of authority, a common trap in these discussions, but as a filmmaker who operates in the more respected side of cinema and recognises the power of stories offered by movies like Turning Red.

Turning Red’s power is very much tied to its commitment to representation, which points to signs of a maturing industry.As an advocate of diversity,it is more hit than miss.As the first feature film from the Pixar camp to be directed solely by a woman, the story’s unapologetic foregrounding of Mei’s identity as a woman and Chinese Canadian gives Shi’s world the life and detail needed to make it stand out. The tension between parental expectations and becoming your own person, and the pressure to be permanently calm and collected, would not resonate so strongly without Shi setting the story where she does. The team’s efforts also extend to the background – a common detail picked up on Twitter was the presence of kids with diabetes patches in the school scenes. Minor details are animation’s bread and butter, and these are not just visual gags or Easter eggs that can be placed into the fabric of the world.

Because Turning Red is enjoying success, some shortcomings can also be examined. Being both antagonist and comic relief, Mei’s mother takes some time to graduate from the school of one-dimensional, tiger-mum parenting that we’re frustratingly familiar with in stories set in the Asian diaspora. This archetype was not a deal breaker for me, but you’d be forgiven for growing tired of seeing dysfunctional mother–daughter relationships everywhere – even if they are executed well, as in Daniels’ Everything Everywhere All At Once,another Asian American story about healing family trauma released this year.

As we gradually claim space on and off screen, care must be taken not to box ourselves in. Whether it’s fuelled by indifference or dislike, fatigue over these dynamics within our community should be recognised and perhaps even seen positively. I certainly wouldn’t mind if we lived in a world where Turning Red was considered outdated in this department, alongside new waves of stories that articulate what it means to be an Asian immigrant living in the West. There are more stories to be told across the huge, nebulous box that is the Asian immigrant experience than family dramas, but it does help that the most successful ones we’re getting in 2022 are doing a good job.

It is unfortunate, then, that these strides are undermined by the politics of Disney, specifically through its anti-Queerness. As a face of American capitalism, Disney has a well-documented track record on everything from influencing copyright law to labour abuse, but gaining the most attention of late are its failings on LGBTQ+ issues. Earlier this year, Disney was scrutinised by employees and fans alike for being complicit in discriminatory legislation nicknamed “Don’t Say Gay”.Over the past two years, Disney has donated almost $300,000 to politicians who are proponents of this bill.

In response to their parent company’s stance, employees from Pixar alleged that Disney proactively cuts Queer content. This policy isn’t hard to spot in Turning Red, where, once again, Queer identities are left unstated and implied. The movie practically winks at the audience during a party sequence when one of Mei’s best friends, Priya, is swept into dancing with a fellow goth. Panda-Mei and her squad giggle from across the room as they exchange that unmistakable look shared between friends when one of your group is with their crush. Jarringly, the rapid-fire cuts used in this montage hurry us along to the next shot before the film is allowed to confirm that one of the core cast might be into girls as well as guys.

Although its stories may champion diversity and being yourself, the reality of being a studio owned by Disney means Pixar can only operate in the margins dictated by the interests of shareholders and suits. These margins may be expanding, but not quickly enough to reflect the breadth of stories that remain untapped. Nevertheless, Turning Red successfully evades the bulk of the internal tensions inherent in its proximity to The Mouse(™) to tell a story that is true to its own message. Domee Shi and the team have created a work that represents growth in many ways, and perhaps that can be its legacy.

Feature image: Nuanzhi Zheng 郑暖之