Of all the feature films in Pixar's impressive
repertoire, Finding Nemo has arguably proven the most durable. The
movie, which celebrated its 10th anniversary last month, is held in high favor
critically and with audiences, but to some extent it's also underappreciated,
commonly regarded as an admirable, stalwart entry from the animation house. And
yet, though it's not a film that's inspired the kind of rapturous following
that The Incredibles or WALL-E have cultivated, Finding
Nemo remains the heart and soul of the Pixar family of movies. It showcases
a number of hallmarks for which the studio has become renowned, such as
stunning technical bravura and smoothly elegant storytelling. But what
distinguishes Finding Nemo from its studio brethren—and what makes
it Pixar's enduring classic to date—is its narrative accessibility and
emotional directness.
At the time of its release, Finding Nemo was primarily heralded for its unparalleled pictorial beauty. Digital animation was still somewhat fresh at the time; just two years before, Shrek had introduced brand new possibilities in digital animation with its crisply rendered environments and characters that had scale and weight. Finding Nemo, by turn, was possibly the first full realization of those possibilities. I still remember seeing it in the theater and feeling completely engulfed by the colors, layers, and textures of the underwater world it fashions. Ten years later, the film still exudes an ethereal quality that's seldom seen in today's animation (which is a credit, also, to the deep musical and overall soundscape). But the abounding detail of the film's visual design, from the scales on Nemo's body to the speckles dancing in the foreground and background of every frame, is all the more astounding for how subtly it's deployed.
At the time of its release, Finding Nemo was primarily heralded for its unparalleled pictorial beauty. Digital animation was still somewhat fresh at the time; just two years before, Shrek had introduced brand new possibilities in digital animation with its crisply rendered environments and characters that had scale and weight. Finding Nemo, by turn, was possibly the first full realization of those possibilities. I still remember seeing it in the theater and feeling completely engulfed by the colors, layers, and textures of the underwater world it fashions. Ten years later, the film still exudes an ethereal quality that's seldom seen in today's animation (which is a credit, also, to the deep musical and overall soundscape). But the abounding detail of the film's visual design, from the scales on Nemo's body to the speckles dancing in the foreground and background of every frame, is all the more astounding for how subtly it's deployed.
