Stepping into Emeryville, a city crowded with technology companies and former domain of the native Ohlone people, is stepping into Pixar. And stepping into Pixar, besides being a nice and cacophonous tongue twister (especially if read by an Italian), is somewhat unsettling. Perhaps even sacrilegious. One enters Pixar and, despite its idyllic appearance (or precisely because of it), one hesitates. Too perfect to be true, too much happiness to be happy, everything too bright to not hide some inevitably disturbing secret. "The only thing that doesn't work well here is seeking the limelight. What is expected of you is to contribute something different, yes, but always in favor of a common idea, the film, or the project you are working on at that moment," comments Jordi Oñate, a Catalan animator with over 13 years of experience at the studio. He does so in the cafeteria of the grand central atrium that leads to everything: the bathrooms, the boardroom, the cafeteria with all kinds of vegan and non-vegan menus (in that order), the mail area, the employee souvenir shop (no tourist visits allowed), and the cereal room (yes, there is a room filled with cereals that one would never have imagined even existed). But where exactly are we? "At Pixar," replies one of the staff members directing the journalist-tourists who have come to Emeryville for the presentation of Elio, the latest film from the Luxo lamp studio, directed by Madeline Sharafian and Domee Shi. By the tone of the response, it seems like she didn't understand the question. And she's right. The question probably doesn't make sense. Stepping into Pixar.
Elio tells the story of a peculiar boy. Perhaps a bit quirky. Or just unique. As peculiar as probably many of the Pixar employees, starting with Domee Shi herself. She is the co-director of the film that narrates the story of a kid determined to be abducted by aliens. She comes to this new project after working on Red, the lovely 2022 film about adolescence and menstruation. "In truth, I have always felt a bit like a weirdo. From a very young age, I was interested in anime. I was the vice president of the anime club at my school. The club consisted of the president and me. There were no others," she says to present her credentials. By her side, Madeline Sharafian agrees and even raises the stakes. Speaking to Adrian Molina [director of Coco and the father of the idea behind Elio], we both remembered the precise moment when we felt weird for the first time. And it was when we met someone who, like us, was obsessed with animation. That's the feeling we wanted to represent at the exact moment when Elio enters the common universe where all the aliens live and feels part of them... I think many people at Pixar feel a bit like that," she confesses happily to find herself next to a room full of cereals.
One might think that this celebration of uniqueness, of proud geekiness, of the genuine experience of stepping into Pixar, is directly related to the building itself. And there would be some truth to that. If something catches the eye and surprises in the facilities, it is the ease of stumbling. Indeed, everything is stumbling. You go to the bathroom and there you find Ernesto Nemesio, lighting effects supervisor, whom you just interviewed. Would it be appropriate to continue the questionnaire at the urinal? It is then when one starts to fantasize about the possibility of bumping into Pete Docter himself, the director of all this, of all Pixar, and... there he goes with a tray heading somewhere. Will he be carrying cereals? And if so, will they be round, square, red, green...? The possibilities are endless. "Many times you think about it and, in truth, you have to force yourself to stop working. You are doing what you want and what you like, but you can get overwhelmed. So you lift your head from the computer and force yourself to distract yourself with any of the attractions at Pixar," Oñate comments amusingly. Stop working to work better. A foolproof formula.
It is Walter Isaacson, Steve Jobs' biographer, who clears up any doubts about the influence of space on effort and stumbling when stepping into Pixar. In his book about the Apple man, he recalls how after the success of Toy Story 2, the then owner of all this before its sale to Disney began to dream of creating a paradise for creation and art. And for effort itself. After finding a plot of land in the sacred land of the Ohlone (that is, in Emeryville next to the San Francisco Bay we are stepping on), he commissioned architect Peter Bohlin to design a brick building that matched his ambition. When one passes through the main door and after taking the obligatory photo with Luxo Jr. and his giant ball, one arrives at the aforementioned atrium, the one of stumbling. Behind (or around) oneself, one leaves a 65,000-square-meter workspace where an amphitheater, gardens, hammocks and umbrellas, several basketball courts, a soccer field, a barbecue, a saltwater pool... are spread out.
But let's go back to the building. Jobs was obsessed with his project for a while. He was convinced that interconnected spaces generate interaction, that interaction leads to ideas, and that ideas are better when shared and improved together. And this is true regardless of where and how it is: peeing, eating, watching movies, or... in front of a bowl of cereals. "Jobs believed in Louis Kahn's idea that spaces have the power to determine attitudes," writes Aaron Winston, a professor in the Department of Architecture at UC Berkeley. And for that, surprise!, he didn't hesitate to design the building based on his own brain structures. That's right. That could be the secret. "He had a somewhat perverse goal. By schematizing the construction of Pixar in correspondence with the maps of his brain, what he wanted was not only to influence the attitudes of his employees but to put them inside his head and control them," adds the professor. Gulp. We are in the head of Steve Jobs himself.
And now the question: What are we doing here? "It's your turn," says the person in charge of the journalist-tourists from before. What follows is a tour through each department of the house always led by Elio. Elio, to avoid getting lost, is many things. Not only is it the latest production to come out of the building, which is also, as we discovered during coffee time, the brainchild of Jobs (we would prefer to be in Riley's, to be honest). Initially, it is the 29th film of the studio founded by Lasseter, the engineer Ed Catmull, and, indirectly, Jobs himself. But it is also the first film based on an original idea (not a sequel or spin-off) after the overwhelming success of Inside Out 2. Last year's production was a critical moment. The release of the second installment of the auto sacramental (that's it), also set within a head - that of the teenage Riley mentioned a few lines above - came at the worst time for the animation studio following the dismissal of 14% of the staff and the threat of endless cuts. Everything changed over the course of the year, transitioning from panic to euphoria in perfect coherence with the film itself. Inside Out 2 became Pixar's most successful film. "I understand that people, or even yourself, may interpret it as added pressure," comments Sharafian, "but, in reality, the success of the film that precedes ours brings us peace of mind. It is reassuring and very exciting to know that if the movie is good, people will go see it. Quality is appreciated." This comment was made before the premiere. Now we know that reality, at times, can be cruel. And very far from reassuring, to be honest. For now, Elio, already released outside of Spain, has achieved the worst debut in Pixar's history. But let's not be discouraged. We are still at Pixar, walking through Pixar.
In the animation department, Jude Brownbill and Travis Hathaway, both supervisors, detail the new challenges they have faced with Elio. It is the latter who sets the tone for all the explanations to come: "No matter how advanced the teams and programs are, our job is to make the technology invisible." It is then that, in a rather graphic explanation of what it means to speak in stereo, they recount how they created Glordon, Questa, and, above all, U. All of them, of course, are extraterrestrial. "When you animate horses, sea creatures, or insects - all of which Pixar has already dealt with - the references are there. But this time it was different," they say, and it is at this moment that the stumbles of the past are highlighted. On the first floor above the atrium, a large part of the clay models (or something similar), sketches, and notes of the characters are displayed. It is impressive the endless number of references, discarded ideas, and notes required for creating a creature that floats in zero gravity, moves like an eel, or indeed resembles Ridley Scott's alien, but in a different way.
Wait, who is U?
U is everything and nothing. It is a supporting character whose form consists of having no form. It is not clear whether U is the most radical character ever imagined by Pixar, the Pixar we walk through, but close. "U," explains Jude, "is a liquid supercomputer. To create it, we studied liquid in space and how it reacts in zero gravity: moving white blood cells, lava lamps, oil and water, any liquid substance, moving, disintegrating, and reuniting. Because that's what we loved about the idea: that it could disintegrate, reassemble, and leave parts of itself when disappearing." In the next room, the veteran production designer about to retire, Harley Jessup, and Claudia Chung Sanii, visual effects supervisor, echo the enthusiasm of their colleagues. They focus not so much on U, the darling child, but on the Comuniverse itself where all the space creatures come together. "How to explain it," Harley nervously begins, not clear if it's due to his imminent retirement or the image he had prepared, which is not visible at this precise moment. And he continues: "It is an interplanetary space station whose main objective is to maintain peace and security in the universe." Good. More: "It has 16 member planets with embassies and their delegations. There are four different ecosystems represented on the rotating discs. There is a volcanic disc, an icy disc, an aquatic disc, and a lush and exuberant disc... And all the rotating discs are backlit like colorful stained glass windows." Good. And now, faced with the unclear expression of the journalist, Harley and Claudia pull a rabbit out of the hat: "None of this would have been possible without the Luna program (yes, in Spanish), a set of tools that allow directing the lighting in line with the camera movements." Excuse me. And now, both more enthusiastic than ever, they launch into a detailed explanation where words like rendering, virtual anamorphic lens, luminosity, constant light... emerge. In short, thanks to Luna, we walk through Pixar and have the Comuniverse and Elio.
But, as was made clear paragraphs above in the comings and goings through the atrium, the technology is there, but without being noticed. Here, the important thing is, as mentioned, to stumble, to stumble a lot like two billiard balls inside Steve Jobs' head. "We are the set supervisor and the lighting supervisor." Excuse me. David Luoh and Ernesto Nemesio, with whom we will later coincidentally meet on the way to the bathroom, are not offended by the ignorance, and that is not only a value in itself but also helpful for me. "Everything seen in the frame," explains the former, "is designed and modeled in 3D. The idea is for the camera to move inside the created spaces literally and completely." And to dispel any doubts, he offers virtual glasses, we put them on, and off we go hand in hand with Elio and his friend Glordon through the Comuniverse. The cereal store is missing, but we forgive them. Nemesio takes over and explains the essence of light itself. It sounds poetic, and indeed it is. "Lighting is part of the reality, the reality of the film. The scenarios change depending on the time of day, the light sources... Even a sunset is not just a sunset. It can be pink, purple, or yellow." Wasn't that poetic?
Elio, to return to Earthly prose, tells the story of an 11-year-old boy obsessed with extraterrestrials. As is customary in the Pixar we walk through, a family drama (his parents died in an accident, and he lives with an aunt) is the emotional thread that ties everything together. There is adventure into space and beyond, but the real adventure takes place internally. When he is abducted and befriends Glordon (who resembles Scott's alien), the aliens of the illuminated Comuniverse, guided by the sibilant space ambassador Questa, will see him as a global leader of our Earth. When, later in the day, we speak again with directors Madeline Sharafian and Domee Shi, producer Mary Alice Drumm will join the conversation. What Oñate's team said is true. And the mention of Jobs' head and billiard balls is also true. "People are currently seeking more connection, and that's what Elio is about. We have been working on this film since 2021. We never thought we would find ourselves in a world like the one we are in," says the producer, carefully avoiding any mention of Trump. "It's interesting," Madeline continues, "because Elio is a character who completely dismisses Earth as a viable place to be happy. Sometimes I feel that it's a sensation with which one can especially identify right now. But when you look at the world as a whole, there are so many wonderful people and good things happening in it that there is no choice but to change perspective, which is what Elio does. It's a challenging time to be on Earth, undoubtedly." "The interesting thing is to change the point of view," Domee concludes. "Most science fiction movies depict aliens as terrifying beings. They are scary. They come to harm you. They are here to abduct you, to replace you. But our aliens are an aspirational and positive society of beings who learn to live together and appreciate each other. And that seems great to me." Could she be talking about immigration perhaps? The response is a smile.
Oñate says he feels bad that Barça, his team, lost (all this walking through Pixar happens at the same time as Lamine Yamal and his team play against Inter. You know how it ended). He also says that at Pixar, no matter how good you are, you always start from scratch; that the only thing that truly matters at Pixar is always trying something new, something different, something surprising. And as he speaks, he is convinced that the way to reach people's hearts is always through the simplest things, no matter how advanced the technology is and "how many little lights there are." And to prove it, animator Matt Nolte gives us a pencil, asks us to draw two circles, and voilà!, there appears Glordon.