Pixar

The purpose of this paper is to discuss the influence of Pixar Animation Studios on the work of Disney’s animated films since its acquisition by the Walt Disney Company in 2006, from a film industry studies approach.

Since the 1980s, a number of global media corporations have assimilated all of the key Hollywood studios (Schatz 45). In fact according to Thomas Schatz, Disney is the ‘only major studio to avoid acquisition by a conglomerate’ (45), by becoming one itself. At present, The Walt Disney Company owns media networks ABC and ESPN, and Marvel Entertainment, Lucas Film and Maker Studios are the latest additions to the Walt Disney Studios banner. In 2006, the studio purchased Pixar Animation Studios for $7.4 billion, a deal that has proven invaluable to the success of Disney’s animated feature films. Prior to the acquisition market research suggested that mothers with children under the age of 12 generally rated Pixar’s brand higher than Disney’s (Price 252). The recent success of Tangled (Greno and Howard, 2010), Wreck-it-Ralph (Moore, 2012) and Frozen (Buck and Lee, 2013), measured in terms of box office figures, critical reviews and merchandise sales, demonstrate a renewed trust in the Disney brand. In a recent Variety article Bob Iger partly attributed this success to the purchasing of Pixar (Graser 2014). As chief creative officer for both Disney and Pixar Animation Studios, John Lasseter has been a key figure in the revival of Disney animation. As Chris Pallant suggests, Lasseter wanted to ‘remould Disney into a filmmakers’ studio, with an emphasis on perfection’ (131).

My paper will discuss the significance of Disney’s purchase of Pixar as an entertainment franchise, with a focus on merchandise and marketing strategies.

El caso de LACC número 712-S11 es la versión en español del caso de HBS número 709-462.

En noviembre de 2005, Robert Iger, el recién nombrado consejero delegado de Walt Disney Company, esperaba ansiosamente los resultados de la recaudación de Chicken Little, el segundo largometraje de dibujos animados generado por ordenador (CG) de la compañía. Sabía que, para que para que Disney como un todo tuviera éxito como empresa, debía enderezar el negocio de la animación, especialmente perfeccionando la nueva tecnología CG, que estaba sustituyendo muy rápidamente la animación dibujada a mano. Sin embargo, la compañía había dependido de un contrato con los estudios de animación Pixar, que había producido éxitos como Toy Story y Buscando a Nemo, para la mayoría de sus ingresos recientes por películas de animación. Y el acuerdo de coproducción, negociado durante el mandato de su predecesor Michael Eisner, expirabaen 2006, después del estreno de Cars, la quinta película del acuerdo para cinco películas. Desgraciadamente, las negociaciones para la renovación del contrato entre Steve Jobs, consejero delegado de Pixar, y Eisner habían fracasado en 2004 debido a conflictos de carácter personal. Cuando asumió su nuevo rol, Iger reabrió las líneas de comunicación entre ambas empresas. De hecho, acababa de llegar a un acuerdo con Jobs para vender algunos espectáculos televisivos propiedad de Disney y producidos por los estudios ABC-como Mujeres desesperadas-a través del iTunes Music Store de Apple. Iger sabía que podía llegar a un acuerdo con Pixar; la cuestión estribaba en qué términos debía hacerlo. ¿Tenía sentido para Disney sencillamente comprar Pixar?

The present article tries to close the gap between the digital humanities and traditional criticism. It does so by moving between distant and close reading, constructing visualizations, opening perspectives for coding, and analyzing a large corpus: the Pixar movies up to

In January of 1993 Ralph Eggleston started his new job at Pixar Animation Studios as art director of the project that would become Toy Story. Over the next two and a half years, Eggleston collaborated with his team of artists to develop a visual style that enhanced and realized the vision of director, John Lasseter, while also exploiting the available technology of this first CG animated film. A saturated palette, slightly caricatured forms, realistic textures and tangible details brought the world of Andy’s room to life. In the process, Eggleston and his crew unknowingly established a touchstone aesthetic that would directly impact two more Toy Story films over the next fifteen years.
As this chapter will demonstrate, Pixar artists cast to design the sequels necessarily worked within the iconic visual world of the first Toy Story, and sought to make their own contributions in step with trilogy story developments, technological advances and changes of director. In so doing this talk will explore the influences, design challenges and collaborative processes of Eggleston and his artistic team, before considering how the art departments of Toy Story 2 and Toy Story 3 inherited, reinterpreted and extended the trilogy’s aesthetic, most notably in the third installment. Here the particular cinematic tastes of director Lee Unkrich and the design sensibilities of Dice Tsutsumi combined to create a visually rich world that believably ranged from the warm, saturated palette of sunlit suburbia to the stark, harsh hues of a working dump. Technological advances, which enabled the realization of evolving visual and stylistic goals will also be considered.

In her article Carolin Scheler addresses the question of the origin of the predominantly uniform image order of commercial computer animated films. She starts from the assumption that the visual worlds can only be deciphered with an understanding of their process of creation. Although the technology behind the films does not prescribe a cinematic narrative nor a visual code, a production-aesthetic approach can be used to identify a kinship between the computer images and various manifestations of a visual culture anchored in the United States. Scheler exemplifies this relationship in this article by means of 19th-century American landscape painting.

The purpose of this paper is to discuss the representation of gender and gender imbalance within Pixar Animation Studios’ feature films, focusing in particular on the analysis of Brave (Andrews and Chapman, 2012), in terms of marketing strategies and critical reception.

Since the release of Toy Story (Lasseter, 1995) 18 years ago, Pixar Animation Studios has become renowned for creating films that are both commercially successful and critically acclaimed. The studio has received numerous awards and has been at the forefront of cutting edge computer animation, developing software that is now an industry standard for CG animation and visual effects in live action filmmaking. However, the studio has recently been criticised for its lack of female presence and female perspective. Pixar has produced 14 feature films to-date, only one of which features a female protagonist. Not only are the remaining 13 told from a male point-of-view, they also feature a predominately male cast with female characters that serve merely as love interests or mother-figures for their male counterparts. Although Pixar presents strong-willed and determined female characters, in a range of roles, they are generally outnumbered by male characters at a ratio of 3:1 (Decker, 2010, 64).

Although Pixar has been commended in the past for subverting traditional Hollywood practices, this paper will suggest that, in this case, the studio clearly adheres to the industry standard where only 3% of animated films concern female-centred narratives (Gilsdorf, 2012). My paper will engage with Brave, which features Pixar’s first lead female character. As part of the Disney Princess Franchise, the Pixar princess will be compared with other Disney princesses in terms of critical reception, marketing and merchandise, in order to analyse the representation of gender in Pixar Animation Studios’ feature films.

References
Decker, Jonathan. The Portrayal of Gender in Disney-Pixar’s Animated Films: A Content Analysis of Gender-Role Variables in Pixar’s Ten Feature-Length Films from Toy Story (1995) to Up (2009). LAP Lambert Academic Publishing, 2010.

Gilsdorf, Ethan. ‘Pixar’s new Brave is fuelled by girl power’. The Boston Globe. 2012.

Inside Out (Pete Docter & Ronnie Del Carmen, 2015) develops novel cinematic means for representing memory, emotion and imagination, their interior relationships and their social expression. Its unique animated language both playfully represents pre-teenage metacognition, and is itself a manner of metacognitive interrogation. Inside Out motivates this language to ask two questions: an explicit question regarding the social function of sadness, and a more implicit question regarding how one can identify agency, and thereby a sense of developing selfhood, between one's memories, emotions, facets of personality, and future-thinking imagination. Both the complexity of the language Inside Out develops to ask these questions, and the complicated answers the film provides, ultimately serve as a manner of recognition of the effortfulness of finding one's place in the world. This article talks sequentially through the complex representative systems Inside Out advances in order to pay homage to the ways in which metacognitive cinemaas well as discussions and hermeneutic readings around that cinemacan make viewers feel recognised for invisible, internal labour that is existentially difficult to share due to its very interiority; an interiority that is reconstructed in imaginative processes such as autobiographical reminiscence, and filmic animation.

This article situates the Pixar computer animation Coco (dir. Lee Unkrich and Adrian Molina, 2017) within a recent selection of afterlife fictions and questions why such narratives might appeal to our contemporary moment. The author’s response is structured around the idea of utopia. In Coco, he identifies several conceptions of utopic space and ideals. The afterlife fiction places characters and viewers in a reflexive location which affords them the opportunity to examine their lives as lived (rather than in death). Transplanting Richard Dyer’s work on classic Hollywood musicals as entertainment utopia to a contemporary animated musical, the article proposes that such a film can be seen as adhering to a kind of ‘new cinematic sincerity’. Coco’s particular depiction of The Day of the Dead fiesta and the Land of the Dead has its roots in the Mexican writer Octavio Paz’s poetic and romantic treatise The Labyrinth of Solitude (1950). A comparison between these two texts suggests that w...

This article is part of the continuous effort to understand human emotions and its replication in animated characters. Previous contributions to this matter concluded many interesting aspects like the power of non-verbal communication, the existence of some universal facial expressions, the facial communication choice of many investigators as opposed to the lack of universal body language studies, the need for minimum body gestures to help universal communication, the existence of cliché silhouette body poses, etc. The present article pretends to be a facial and body study about one of Inside-Out's main characters: Fear. The main objective is to understand what kinds of combinations were used to communicate this emotion. This way we pretend to study universal communication details and add valuable information to previous studies, including statistic data.

As early as the 1930s animators were viewed as “actors with pencils,” and “cast” for particular shots or characters accordingly. The same attitude is widely held in the field today and dictates everything from the assignments given to animators at Pixar, to the curriculum of American animation schools, to the advice supplied online to budding practitioners. If this logic is followed to its seemingly rational conclusion, then animators are in fact, arguably the most sophisticated, versatile, and total—that is entirely masked and anonymous—professional masqueraders working in the entertainment business today. In many respects the characters they bring to life are complex, highly pliable digital “masks” briefly inhabited by the animator.

In this case the complete cloaking of an animator’s identity, endemic to the medium, brings both the required consistency of style necessary in large projects, but also artistic anonymity outside the walls of a given studio. Indeed, according to Pixar animator and director Angus McLane the best animation does not attract attention to itself since “…the nature of animation is to cover up what the animator actually does...” Given the huge collaboration necessary to make an animated film, whereby as many as 45 animators may be involved, with several animating the same character, being an “ideal animator” is in large part about being able to deftly put on and take off a persona or “mask” at will, and at times, wear more than one.

Using Pixar as a case study, this essay will seek to identify and analyze the nature and various contemporary effects and implications of the “masked” animator. Consideration will focus on how this role impacts practitioners themselves, the individual animated film, as well as the place of animation in the larger world of cinematic entertainment.

In 2011, Pixar Animation Studios released a short film that challenged the contemporary characteristics of digital animation. La Luna (Enrico Casarosa) marks a pivotal shift in Pixar’s short film canon by displaying hand-drawn artwork and man-made textures. Widely considered the innovators of computer-generated animation, Pixar is now experimenting with 2D animation techniques and with textures that oppose the clean and polished look of mainstream American animation. This article aims to outline the significant technological developments that have facilitated an organic aesthetic by suggesting that nostalgia dictates a preference for a more traditional look. It will also argue that this process pioneered by Pixar has in turn influenced the most recent short films of Walt Disney Animation Studios. Pixar Animation Studios has been at the forefront of cutting-edge digital animation for over twenty-five years. The phenomenal success of Toy Story (John Lasseter, 1995), the world’s first ...

Representations of boys and men in Disney films often escape notice due to presumed gender neutrality. Considering this omission, we explore mas-culinities in films from Disney's lucrative subsidiary Pixar to determine how mas-culinities are represented and have and/or have not disrupted dominant gender norms as constructed for young boys' viewership. Using Raewyn Connell's theory of gender hegemony and related critiques, we suggest that while Pixar films strive to provide their male characters with a feminist spin, they also continue to reify hegemonic masculinities through sharp contrasts to femininities and by privileg-ing heterosexuality. Using a feminist textual analysis that includes the Toy Story franchise, Monsters, Inc., Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, and Coco, we suggest that Pixar films, while offering audiences a "new man," continue to reinforce hege-monic masculinities in subtle ways that require critical examination to move from presumed gender neutrality to an understanding of continued, though shifting, gender hegemony.

Creation of characters in computer graphics is a difficult task to handle. The process requires modeling complex body structures of those characters, and the objective is not only to model them accurately, but also to make them look organic and realistic. To attain this, animators must portray the characters’ forms as smooth surfaces to refrain from that computery look. The computers can work very easily with simple shapes like cubes or planes. However, to model a character, the animators need much more complex shapes. To achieve those shapes, certain algorithms are used, which can transform the simple shapes into the complicated ones. Throughout the history of animation, several algorithms have been designed by animators. Today, the widely used method is the mathematical algorithm called subdivision. In particular, many prominent animation studios utilize the Catmull – Clark algorithm, a type of subdivision modeling that can take a simple shape and turned into a much more complex one.

Nel corso della seconda metà del Novecento, nel Nord America e in Europa occidentale le fiabe hanno vissuto un’esplosione di popolarità nell’ambito degli studi accademici e della produzione cinematografica mainstream. In un contesto culturale e mediatico in cui molte donne e uomini adulti non ricordano, e molti bambini e bambine non hanno mai visto, versioni delle storie di Biancaneve o della Bella e la Bestia che non siano quelle realizzate dalla Disney (Biancaneve e i sette nani – Snow White and the Seven Drafts, David Hand, 1937; La Bella e la bestia – Beauty and the Beast, Gary Trousdale e Kirk Wise, 1991), diventa interessante guardare alle “nuove” fiabe cinematografiche del circuito mainstream per indagare gli intrecci che in esse prendono forma tra percorsi della soggettività e strategie della narrazione, e comprendere così come tali prodotti culturali si relazionino ai generi sessuali e alla loro costruzione. Chiedersi insomma, in relazione a modelli che sembravano attestati e che venivano ritenuti “naturali”, che cosa è cambiato dopo il lavoro re-visionario del femminismo, che quei modelli ha messo in questione con le sue pratiche di pensiero e di azione: che tipo di immagini di donna e che tipo di storia propongono queste revisioni/riscritture, quali meccanismi narrativi supportano queste immagini, che ideologie del soggetto sottendono?

For every real cinema challenge there are at least two solutions: one involving costly techniques, and one only involving a single camera. If a contemporary director reads on a synopsis "then our main character is fighting in Austerlitz, among 200,000 troops," she or he can hire armies of 3D compositors and match move artists to design the battle, or find a narrative or visual idea to avoid the screening of the whole battlefield. Let us set an ideal situation and take for granted the choice is not a matter of money but a matter of art; now we have our two competitors: on the left, hi-fi exocentric computer-generated imagery; on the right, lo-fi egocentric hand-held cameras, both inhabited by the same purpose: describing a scene with the most possible accuracy. As suggested by the title of this chapter, this is an epistemological war which gives rise to the question: "how can I know, as a spectator of a fictional narrative, what was a Napoleonian battle?" Answering this question, i.e. trying to provide some reliable (or at least believable) knowledge, even if the spectator only intends to have fun watching a good movie, supposes at least two antagonistic technological means. The aim of this essay is to establish the extent to which these means differ when considering the kind of effects they produce on the spectator.

“Post-Modern Hi-Fi vs. Post-Cool Lo-Fi: An Epistemological War”, Technology, Annie van den Oever dir, coll. “The Key Debates. Mutations and Appropriations in European Film Studies”, Vol. IV, Amsterdam, Amsterdam University Press, 2014, p. 154-165 + 309-311.

Animated texts within American cinema carry practitioners’ contributions to serious discussions of animation which have not been systematically decoded or discussed. This paper analyses twentieth-century shorts to identify longstanding issues and concepts, then presents a case study of Ratatouille (dir. Brad Bird, 2007), a film that, by hailing cuisine as a fellow art, encodes a complex exposition on contemporary animation within mainstream American film. The film points to the neglect or inconsistency of criticism, the film industry and art, and argues that animated cinema is as rich and as worthy of recognition as the art of cuisine. The discussion strongly indicates the importance of textual and contextual analysis of mainstream animated texts as a basis for further scholarship.

""The theories of the Russian literary critic and philosopher Mikhail Bakhtin (1895-1975) are highly suggestive for helping to understand cinema, yet their usefulness has yet to be fully and accessibly articulated in relation to the key debates of Film Studies. At the heart of this text is the key notion of chronotope, which Flanagan adapts to show how time and space 'fuse together' in cinematic narrative. Similarly crucial are the Bakhtinian concepts of dialogism and polyphony, which help to address fundamental questions about film form and reception. The 'unfinalizable' Bakhtinian word seems to hold great significance for a changing media world where meanings seem constantly renewable, and diffuse practices of spectatorship outgrow earlier, rigid models of interpretation. Via case studies of a diverse range of films (from Die Hard 4.0 to House of Games, The Searchers to The Incredibles), this book vividly demonstrates that Bakhtin's theories can bring about an exciting intervention into some of the most contested areas of film theory.

'A well-needed instalment in the sparse critical work on Bakhtin and cinema...this study unlocks new ways of understanding the circulation and production of film meaning.'
- Hunter Vaughan, New Review of Film and Television Studies""

"This thesis is the first in-depth, historical study of Hollywood’s relationship with the ‘family audience’ and ‘family film’. Since the 1970s, Hollywood family films have been the most lucrative screen entertainments in the world, and despite their relativelyunexplored status in academic film criticism and history, I will argue that the format is centrally important in understanding mainstream Hollywood cinema.

How have ‘family films’ become so globally dominant? One answer is that Hollywood’s international power facilitates the global proliferation of its products, but this explanation, in isolation, is insufficient. I will argue that Hollywood family films are designed to transcend normative barriers of age, gender, race, culture and even taste; they target the widest possible audiences to maximise commercial returns, trying to please as many people, and offend as few, as possible. This they achieve through a combination of ideological populism, emotional stimulation, impressive spectacle, and the calculated minimisation of potentially objectionable elements, such as sex, violence, and excessive socio-cultural specificity.

Initially, the audience for family films was predominantly domestic, but with the increasing spending power of international audiences, family films are now formulated on the belief that no market is inaccessible. For this reason, they are inextricably linked with Hollywood – the only film industry in the world with the resources and distribution capacity to address a truly global mass audience. The ‘family film’ originated in early-1930s Hollywood as a mixture of propaganda and commercial idealism. Hollywood cinema was already an international cultural phenomenon, but was founded upon a claim to universality that was undermined by the predominance of adult-orientated films. The family film was the result both of external pressures to make films more morally-suitable for children, and the desire to engage a more middle-class mass audience.

Films targeting the so-called ‘family audience’ were excellent propaganda for Hollywood, suggesting superior production, inoffensiveness and broad appeal. Although such movies have not always commanded the mass (‘family’) audiences for which they are intended, they have flourished in the domestic and international media marketplace since the 1970s, and their commercial and cultural dominance appears likely to extend further in the years to come. Whilst the idea of a universally-appealing film remains an impossible dream, mainstream Hollywood has pursued it relentlessly. It is the Holy Grail for mainstream producers, and has attained considerable importance in U.S. – and increasingly international – culture, as audiences flock to see films which appear to transcend run-of-the-mill screen entertainment by providing universally-intelligible aesthetic and/or emotional satisfaction. This thesis maps the history of the Hollywood family film, documenting the motivations and strategies involved in its emergence and development, analysing the form creatively and ideologically, evaluating its place within global mass entertainment, and underlining its considerable importance."

In its history, production, plots and gestures, slapstick comedy was tied to the rise of modern labor in terms of both Taylorist theory and Fordist practice. Comic heroes ranging from live action comedians Chaplin or Keaton to animated animals Felix or Mickey worked against work through the playful excesses of their obediences and transgressions within an increasingly rationalized, industrial world. The digital animation studio Pixar summoned slapstick and its specifically Fordist resonances in its 2008 feature, WALL-E, yet offered a twist in humanizing a figure of perfected Fordism itself with its title character, a robot repetitively working in a post-apocalyptic earth devoid of human life. Explicitly modeled after Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd, WALL-E contrasts with the film’s humans, who are entirely liberated from labor through automation in a satirical reflection of both post-Fordist accounts of the ‘end of work’ as well as broader critiques of a distracting digital culture. This article focuses on the film’s revitalization of slapstick traditions within the context of recent debates about post-Fordism, the future of automated labor and the transformation of working human bodies. Just as slapstick’s relationship to modern labor touched on the playful mode of its cinematic production as well as their form as indexical montage so too does Pixar’s corporate reputation as ‘Creativity, Inc’ suggest a complex relationship between its slapstick hero and the digital labor animating his movement. The same will be argued of Pixar’s vaunted techniques with both digital image-making and commodity generation, both of which suggest a nostalgic animation of slapstick’s antinomies as much as a disavowal of the post-Fordist production of which Pixar is vanguard.

Born out of Lucasfilm, acquired by Steve Jobs in 1986 and fallen under the Walt Disney Company in 2006, Pixar is an ideal example of a creative industry capable of imposing itself globally as a quality brand that identifies a precise vision of the world as well as a solid and full-bodied, infantile and adult imaginary. Films like Toy Story, Finding Nemo, The Incredible, Cars or Inside Out are the result of an industrial, narrative, aesthetic and ideological system that, in the last twenty years, has been able to revitalise the animated film as a whole. Moving between technofilia and nostalgia, this articulated system has also enabled to offer an articulated reflection on the contemporary American way of life and, in particular, on the challenges that the national identity of the United States has been facing in the last decades.
The book addresses Pixar in terms of a "new American story” focusing on the identity issues that Emeryville's Studio urges from the point of view of its own origins and of those of the characters of his films, as well as the same aesthetic that characterizes his representations. At the heart of the book is the culture that permeates every aspect of the "Pixar system": from the "mythical" stories of its founders (between CaliforniaN ideology and Mormon religion) to the nature of its software, from the Pixar brand to its ideologies, from memory to gender. The volume ends with a reflection on the Pixar of the future.

This essay explores the dynamics of large-scale collaboration and collective imagination at Pixar Animation Studios, by focusing specifically upon the Academy-Award winning Brave (2012) and its art department team. As such, this study will investigate the important, seemingly contradictory, but in fact, complementary nexus of individual inspiration and artistic agency on the one hand, with group-oriented experiences, collaboration, and director-driven aesthetics on the other. Through author interviews with Pixar artists, producers and art directors, as well as an analysis of standard production components such as research trips, art reviews and concept art, this essay will ultimately reveal the great dependence of Pixar productions, such as Brave, upon strong, individual artistic personalities dynamically blended through the experience of camaraderie, shared experience and a carefully cultivated collaborative studio environment. More broadly, this paper will challenge traditionally held notions of “commercial collaboration” and situate animation within the larger discussion of collaborative art making.

This is my final essay for the module "Lingua Inglese Magistrale" (English language) taught by professor Vincenza Minutella at the University of Turin, MA in Translation (LM-94).
"The spoken and the written language in Monsters, Inc." is a contrastive analysis between the English and the Italian dubbed and subtitled versions of the computer-animated film by Pixar and Walt Disney Pictures.
This essay is divided into two parts: the first one focuses on the spoken language, particularly on dialects and registers used throughout the film, and the homogenising rendering in the Italian dubbing and subtitling. The second part focuses on the written language, demonstrating how the verbal visual channel contributes to build both the characters and the story. As will be shown, the Italian translations tend to omit it.

“Merida and Mother Bear: a Lesson in Feminist Cultural Pedagogy” in Anna Kérchy (ed.) Interspecies Dialogues in Postmillenial Filmic Fantasies Special Issue, AMERICANA, E-Journal of American Studies in Hungary, Volume XIII, Number 2, Fall 2017 (ISSN: 1787-4637), available: http://americanaejournal.hu/vol13no2/tzsa

Although sometimes tongue-in-cheek, I examine Pixar’s construction of little girls within the context of a brand image of Pixar’s animator-directors as “boys at heart”--that is, as Peter Pan types who have never really grown up. I explore whether Pixar’s films reflect a certain apprehension about little girls that can, perhaps, be likened to the way young boys often display a notable ambivalence toward girls. Pixar’s little girls are not always so “sugar and spice and everything nice,” but rather embody toxicity to varying degrees (though not always seriously), becoming a source of fear, pain, or humiliation to a number of male characters in several Pixar films.

Tangled and Brave are maternal melodramas, a generic association that reveals the films’ reflection, negotiation, and confrontation with postfeminism, especially as it informs the social construction of girlhood. Although these films are produced by Disney, a media conglomerate not known for its progressive expressions of gender, melodrama can work as a critical mode of discourse even when shrouded in a conservative dress. In short, melodrama’s excess allows for a critique of the very things melodrama represents. Paying close attention to mother-daughter interactions, especially over Rapunzel’s and Merida’s excesses of hair, reveal the following postfeminist themes as debilitating for girls and detrimental to their relationships with older women: normative femininity and consumerism as empowerment, competing generational feminisms, and the conflicting pressures to articulate individual identity while belonging to female community.

This article rethinks anthropomorphic representation and animated animality within the context of the contemporary digital era and, more precisely, against the rise of the computer-animated feature film. By interrogating the fractured identity of the anthropomorph as a necessarily hybrid figuration, it suggests how popular computer-animated films have rejected ánthrōpos and instead exploited the non-human morphē element to manipulate virtual space through anthropomorphic subjectivity. The anthropomorph is here refined into a more prescriptive and functional agent, absorbing viewers into a spectatorial game that sharpens their awareness of the digital realm. Films such as Ratatouille (Brad Bird, 2007) and Bee Movie (Simon J Smith and Steve Hickner, 2007) are offered as case studies that reflect the shift towards the form or morphē element, one that is registered through a particular mode of subjectified address. Drawing on Gilles Deleuze’s notion of ‘gaseous perception’ to elucidate this delivery of enlivened space, this article argues that the computer-animated film is implicated in a hierarchical switch away from humanlike behaviour to embrace the possibilities of the anthropomorph’s non-human morphē identity, thereby upturning the received narrative of how anthropomorphism has been conceptualized among critical studies of animation.

Este artículo pretende mostrar la importancia de investigar las emociones a partir del cine de animación y su influencia en la audiencia infantil. Para ello, se lleva a cabo un recorrido a lo largo del tratamiento y la representación de las emociones encarnadas en los personajes animados de los largometrajes de Pixar. A través de la revisión bibliográfica y el análisis de contenido de la película Inside Out (2015), se profundiza en las principales emociones como la tristeza y la alegría para comprender cuál es el papel social de esta dimensión esencial en el ser humano.