A lot of ink has been spilled about how Pixar’s COVID-era releases have gone straight to Disney+, while Disney Animation Studios’ releases in the same time frame have all gotten big screen releases to go with streaming. It’s admittedly not a good look for Disney, but I think there might actually be a method to the madness.

First of all, Pixar’s Soul came out in 2020. A lot of weird shit happened in 2020, and every rulebook was thrown clear out the window through that entire year. We all wanted to see this new Pixar film, no way was it coming out in theaters during lockdown, Disney wanted to keep the inertia going on their Disney+ rollout, what was anyone supposed to do? Of course we all understood why that movie went directly to streaming, it made perfect sense at the time.

But then why did Luca go directly to streaming, while both of Disney Animation’s 2021 offerings got theatrical releases? Well, I think it might have something to do with the fact that Raya and the Last Dragon and Encanto were both massively epic in scope, while Luca was much more tightly focused on three characters and their misadventures in a sleepy Italian coastal town. The Disney Animation films were tremendous spectacles made to be seen on the biggest screen possible, while the Pixar film benefits from a smaller, more intimate viewing.

By a similar token, Turning Red was very clearly made to be a tightly focused and deeply emotional picture. It’s a film built from the ground up for parents to watch and discuss with their kids at their own pace. In particular, if anyone out there is — or may one day be responsible for — an adolescent woman rapidly approaching puberty, this is your movie.

Incidentally, the film comes to us from Domee Shi, a longtime Pixar stalwart here making her feature writing/directing debut. Though she did previously give us the short film Bao, about a woman who cares about a baozi as her own child after the steamed bun inexplicably comes to life. I distinctly remember a great deal of moviegoers — mostly Asians, in point of fact — who responded to the short film with enthusiastic praise while I and many others sat in the fetal position, screaming our brains out at the bugfuck insanity of whatever the blue blazing hell we just saw.

She’s a woman who knows her audience, is what I’m saying.

In this picture, Rosalie Chiang voices Meilin Lee, a Chinese-Canadian 13-year-old girl living in Toronto in the year 2002. She’s a straight-A student, she’s got a posse of best friends, and she’s got a stable, devoted family. In fact, Meilin and her mother (Ming Lee, voiced by Sandra Oh) run an authentic Chinese temple built in tribute to the Lee family ancestors, also serving as a tourist attraction and a community center for Toronto’s Chinese population.

Right up front, Meilin establishes herself as a complex and nuanced character. She loves her friends, but she puts family first. She’s defiantly individualistic and extremely outspoken, but never to the extent that she causes any actual trouble. She likes to have fun, but she knows and accepts that she has responsibilities. Basically put, Meilin is highly creative and energetic, but she’s always careful to color within the lines. And as Meilin grows older — going past the treacherous threshold into her teen years and on through adulthood — the lines are getting increasingly tight.

Of course we’re setting up for the archetypal clash of rebellious youth against overbearing and obsessively controlling parents, but it’s not quite so two-dimensional as that. What makes the difference here is that Meilin deeply and sincerely loves her parents. She loves her family temple. She loves being the smartest and most successful kid in her class. But it’s not enough anymore. She’s at the age where she needs to go out with her friends and with other kids her age, and she needs to find interests outside of school and family and work.

That said, her primary extracurricular interest is a five-person boy band inexplicably named “4-Town”, so it’s perhaps understandable why nobody outside of Meilin’s circle of friends would take her interests seriously. Even so, we all have to start somewhere, and who didn’t like some degree of embarrassing crap at that age?

(Side note: One of 4-Town’s members is voiced by Finneas O’Connell, who wrote and performed three songs for the fictional band alongside his more famous sister/collaborator, Billie Eilish. The other band members are voiced by Jordan Fisher, Josh Levi, Topher Ngo, and Grayson Villaneuva, all accomplished singers/musicians/producers in their own right.)

Anyway, the plot starts to pick up when Meilin is absentmindedly doodling in her room. Specifically, she’s developed a secret crush on a local guy who doesn’t know she exists (Devon, voiced by Addie Chandler) and she explores those feelings by drawing some crude romantic fantasies in a private notebook in the security of her room. Long story short, Ming finds the notebook and makes a huge public spectacle of the whole ordeal, accusing Devon of unspeakable perverted acts on no greater evidence than the lewd doodlings of a 13-year-old. Meilin is deathly embarrassed, but doesn’t confront her mom about it.

Lots to unpack here.

First of all, it’s noteworthy that Meilin kicked off the movie by making a huge deal about how she says and does whatever she wants and she won’t let anyone bring her down, yet she won’t stand up to her mom when Ming goes clearly and outrageously over the line. Secondly, Ming is hopelessly dependent on everything staying exactly the way it is, which is of course dependent on her daughter never growing up. Mentally and emotionally, Ming is nowhere near ready for the day when her daughter will start to develop attractions and interests that have nothing to do with school, family, or work.

Most importantly, that incident with the drawings is a cascading catastrophe of the worst possible times to hold back emotions, and the worst possible times to express them. Ming was totally and completely wrong in letting her protective impulses get the better of her, backfiring in ways that caused very real damage to herself and her daughter. (To say nothing of the potential legal trouble. I’m no lawyer and I don’t know how things work in Canada, but I’m pretty sure allegations of sexual assault and threats to have someone arrested with no shred of evidence whatsoever would at least be grounds for a lawsuit here in the States.) As for Meilin, she bit her tongue when she had every right and obligation to call her mother out on her bullshit, and Meilin’s big lesson from all of this is that she shouldn’t explore any fantasies or emotions in the privacy of her own bedroom.

But then comes the central crisis of the film: Meilin inexplicably wakes up to find that she’s transformed into a giant red panda. (It’s a long story involving her ancestors, I won’t get into that here.) Through some degree of panicked trial and error, Meilin finds that she turns into the giant red panda when she gets overly stressed or emotional, and turns back into a human girl (albeit with notably different red hair instead of her typical black) when she calms down.

(Side note: I only just now realized that the title has a double meaning. Clever.)

Again, lots to unpack here.

First off, it’s worth going back to the “romantic drawings” incident, because the film establishes early and emphatically that Meilin and her mother both have a lot to learn about dealing with their emotions in a healthy and productive way. The film takes a sensible and moderate approach, stating that sometimes we need to lash out (standing up for ourselves and others, for instance) while sometimes it’s better to remain calm and sensible (which makes getting along with other people a lot easier). It’s a thoughtful and well-rounded approach that serves as an exceptionally valuable life lesson for viewers of all ages, not at all unlike what made Inside Out an instant classic.

Secondly, there’s the fact that Meilin really does transform into a giant red panda. She’s impossible to miss in her animal form, big enough to take up half of any given room and accidentally destructive enough to cause serious damage in the process. In other words, she’s “taking up space”. Literally and figuratively. So she’s learning how and when to take up space even as she’s learning how to manage her emotional outbursts, dovetailing two extremely valuable lessons, particularly for empowered and outspoken young women and the parents who raise them. To say nothing of the body image issues, with Meilin ashamed of her bigger, heavier, furrier self.

Which brings me to the third point. When Meilin first transforms and hides herself in the bathroom, Ming of course jumps to the obvious conclusion that Meilin must be confused and embarrassed because she just started menstruating. Ever the obsessive control freak, Ming throws every feminine hygiene product in the house at her daughter, attempting a pre-teen friendly talk about all the changes that must be happening to Meilin’s body. It’s embarrassing for both of the characters, yes, but it’s frankly progressive and even laudable for a family picture to go there. This is an important topic, something pre-teens need to know about, and I appreciate the efforts of this film in normalizing it.

More to the point, the transformation is a metaphor for puberty. The film establishes this early, frequently, and with no subtlety whatsoever. Literally the very minute Meilin first transforms, the filmmakers want it emphatically clear that this is a movie about a girl going through puberty by way of transforming into a giant red panda when she gets stressed, angered, aroused, excited, etc.

Anyway, to make a long story short, it turns out that this has been a recurring issue throughout Meilin’s whole family history, and Ming never brought it up because of her perpetual denial regarding Meilin’s coming of age. I won’t go into details, but it turns out that Meilin does in fact have one shot — and ONLY one shot — at purging the panda and turning back into a human permanently. And as soon as this option is brought up at the half-hour mark, we immediately know that sealing the panda away won’t be the healthiest option. Far better for Meilin to learn how to control this new side of herself, finding a wholesome and mutually beneficial balance between these two sides of herself.

I could keep going on and on from here. There’s a whole new layer to explore every five minutes. I could keep writing for another twenty pages, dissecting the various metaphors with regards to Meilin’s physical/mental/emotional/spiritual coming of age. In every scene, there’s some new examination of puberty, generational trauma, and coming of age, doing so in a way that’s fun, comical, heartfelt, authentic, and wickedly intelligent. And I haven’t even gotten started on how impeccably stylish the film is, reflecting Meilin’s own boundless energy and creativity.

Though there is one little nitpick I feel obliged to address.

Speaking of family, there’s the matter of Meilin’s extended family. It’s firmly established that the red panda transformation is passed down through the women of the Lee family. And at the halfway point, we meet Meilin’s aunties (voiced by Lori Tan Chinn, Lillian Lim, Sherry Cola, and Mia Tagano) in addition to her grandmother (voiced by Wai Ching Ho), all of whom come in to help Meilin control and purge the panda.

So, let me get this straight. I get that Ming wanted to keep this whole thing a secret. But Meilin also had a grandmother and four aunts who’ve all gone through this… and not a one of them ever told Meilin about this? Or even hinted at it? For that matter, where are Meilin’s cousins?! She’s got four (4!) freaking aunts on her mother’s side of the family, and not a one of them had a single daughter who might’ve told Meilin about this and helped her through it?! Sure, fine, whatever. I’m not saying it’s impossible, just highly improbable.

Turning Red is marvelous. It’s predictable in places and it covers a lot of well-trod themes for family cinema, but the presentation is next-level. The solid voice work and expressive animation are significant factors, but the script is something else. It’s simply astounding how the filmmakers built a plot and premise that could cram so many wonderful statements into 100 minutes, folding layers upon layers of themes into something profoundly heartfelt and wickedly fun. Moreover, this is a film with a strong sense of identity (clearly made by a Chinese-Canadian pulling extensively from both cultures) that knows exactly who its audience is (pre-teen girls and their [potential] parents), pursuing both with uncompromising vigor and no apology. I can’t help but respect that.

Even if you’re not in the target audience, I definitely recommend giving the film a look. And if you’re a parent with young children, you should already have seen this with your whole family by now.