Minor spoilers ahead. 

 

In her new film, DNA, French-Algerian director Maïwenn attempts to capture the generational struggle of understanding one’s cultural identity, which here locates itself within the film’s main character, Neige. Neige, alongside her Royal Tenenbaum-sized family, has difficulty coping with the death of her grandfather, an Algerian immigrant who is the unifying head of the entire extended family. His journey from a simple life in Algeria to an academic in France striving for Algerian liberation is the common myth that unites the family. When he dies, Neige is thrown into a—sometimes destructive—mission to discover the significance of her Algerian heritage.

 

Admittedly, this film is often pretty bland; the almost pointless use of handheld shots and blinding lens flares don’t do much for the viewer other than annoy us, and a good bit of the dysfunctional interplay between family members doesn’t amount to much more than trivial family drama. This is also a story we’ve likely seen some version of before. Whether it be Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing or a blockbuster hit such as Bend it Like Beckham, the difficulties of mediating between different aspects of one’s cultural background is a subject that has been frequently explored in the 21st century; in an increasingly heterogeneous America, explorations of multicultural identity have become ever more important stories. 

 

But what makes DNA unique, despite its shortcomings, is the structure that Maïwenn gives to Neige’s character arc. In the beginning of the film, Neige doesn’t even feel like a main character. Though the camera may linger on a bit more than the rest of the family, there’s still plenty of screen time for her brothers, as well as the whole troupe in an ensemble. It isn’t until the halfway mark that Neige begins to escape the crowd of her extended family, and the narrative really begins to take an interest with her personal experience with grieving. In fact, as the film goes on, the rest of her family begin to appear less and less, and by the end we’re watching Neige walk around alone, starve herself, or bounce between appointments at the Algerian embassy to get her Algerian citizenship. Thus, we learn that Neige’s process of getting closer to her Algerian roots is a sort of a sweet irony, that to become a part of the Algerian community she must first retreat back into herself, away from her family and into her own solitude. 

 

The film’s ending finds Neige on a solo trip (possibly even a move?) to Algeria, and it’s apparent that she’s pretty out of place as a French-passing woman in the streets of Algiers. She wanders through the crowded streets like a tourist, often against the flow of traffic. But, even though she’s left the family she’s known her whole life and has presumably become a stranger in Algiers, Maïwenn asks us to remain hopeful that Neige—as well as her viewers—can find a community they can call home: the film’s final shot is Neige in slow-motion, laughing joyously at the Algerian flag fluttering against her back. Her smile is nothing but contagious, and the cut-to-black punctuates Maïwenn’s love letter to the aimless children of immigrants in France. 

 

DNA (2020) is streaming exclusively on Netflix.

 

Soul is Pixar’s latest film, and as always, Pixar gets deep. Soul follows the story of a middle school band teacher who lives and breathes jazz music. He dreams of living the life of a great jazz musician, but just when he gets a once in a lifetime opportunity, he becomes separated from his soul. At its core, Soul is about purpose, about meaning of life, and about gratitude. It encourages viewers to fall in love with the little things, even when your dreams might be out of reach.

A double entendre, the title Soul refers both to the jazz-influenced music genre that originated in Black communities in the 1950s and 1960s, as well as to the spiritual essence of a living being. Together, both of these meanings drive the film. We meet our protagonist, Joe Gardner, as he’s leading middle school band practice, looking drained and hopeless. We soon discover that, despite his immense love jazz, he has been met with rejection after rejection in his efforts to make performing his career. Then, out of the blue, Joe gets the opportunity to perform with a famous jazz saxophonist. Joe is over the moon and literally starts dancing in the streets. 

All of a sudden, the screen goes black. We learn that Joe is gravely injured and unconscious, and the film takes a deep dive into philosophy as we now meet Joe’s soul. Pixar has a way of creating spaces that blur the line between reality and imagination, using playful imagery to approach topics that border the solemn and ominous. Here, we experience this space with Joe as he realizes, in a panic, that he’s nearing the Great Beyond. Yep, Pixar really just made a movie about life and death for 8-year-olds.   

Throughout the rest of the film, Joe tries desperately to get back in his body on Earth, and along the way, he meets characters and gains perspectives that completely change the way he thinks about his life. Through Joe’s eyes, we rediscover beauty in the “normal,” even the monotonous, parts of life. Just as Soul instills a deep sense of gratitude in its protagonist, it encourages its viewers to live in the present; to notice the magic of a leaf falling from a tree and to savor the flavor of a good meal.

Soul demonstrates a transformation in Pixar that has unfolded over the course of my lifetime. It’s gone from talking monsters to introspective questions of purpose and gratitude. This film is also notable because it’s Pixar’s first that centers a Black character, and portrayals of Black culture and Black joy have been largely absent from Disney. 

One of the most interesting things about this film is that the climax isn’t where you think it’s going to be. Joe gets what he wants well before the movie ends, so we don’t get that big Hollywood finish of everything falling into place. Instead, we’re left with a sense of uncertainty about Joe’s future. In the closing moments, he’s just a normal guy. The thing he wanted most doesn’t make him happy. Joe realizes that the only cure for his ever-present ennui is to fall in love with all parts of his life, from his treasured jazz music to the rumble of the subway. I truly am walking away from Soul with a renewed sense of appreciation for the little things.