by STEPHANIE TANG
“All of the Pixar movies actually exist within the same universe!”
Those were the exact words I read on Jon Negroni’s website, pixartheory.com, before I clicked on the rectangular icon that said “Enter The Pixar Universe.”
The Pixar Theory is a compilation of theories that link all the Pixar movies in a theoretically interconnected universe. Starting with the magical “will-of-the-wisps” in “Brave” and, currently, ending with time travel in “Monsters, Inc.,” the theory chronologically organizes the timeline of the Pixar universe.
In my opinion, the Pixar Theory seems to be the embodiment of the ever-changing human nature. We leave pieces of ourselves everywhere we go, and with everything we do, just as the witch in “Brave,” (or an aged version of our favorite Pixar toddler, Boo) leaves magical wisps as she time-travels to find her beloved childhood friend, Sulley.
As I scrolled through the explanation of the Pixar Theory, I saw how the superheroes had been pivotal in maintaining order in the world, that is, until machines started fighting back. Toys had come to life, finding security in their source of energy: human love. Eventually, it ended with the realization that monsters and machines made a mistake in getting rid of humans, so they time-travel through wooden doors to recover their source of energy.
With everything that we have encountered in our lives so far, it seems the easiest to say that we are all a sum of our experiences, because that is how life seems to work. We are constantly pulled, stretched, condensed and, finally, molded and shaped by everything that we have learned up to this very moment.
Personally, I feel that my lack of experience has taught me just as much as my experiences have, as I continue to change and adapt. Knowing that I will never be the same person again brings me a sense of comfort, because it means that change is always available.
I constantly think about the “wisps” I am leaving behind, even if I am only leaving high school to encounter the next stage of my life. I think this is a sentiment that a lot of people feel. I have this instinctual feeling that I should be leaving something to be remembered by, even if that something is small, because maybe one day the “wisp” I leave behind might be of some importance.
I am fixated on this idea of leaving some sort of legacy, just like couples and families leave a lock on railings of the Pont de l’Archevêché in France or on the Namsan Tower in South Korea to represent this ideal of “eternal love.”
When I think of legacies, I often remember “Toy Story 3,” when Andy is leaving for college and gives away his toys to Bonnie, a young girl who had found Woody earlier in the movie, when the toys were accidentally sent Sunnyside Daycare. In essence, the toys are the “wisps” that Andy chooses to leave behind and pass down to Bonnie, his legacy that started in his childhood.
Just like the Pixar Universe, the world we live in is always interconnected and interdependent. Leaving an everlasting imprint seems to be an impossible objective that is just far enough out of reach to seem attainable, but it is not always the biggest, “magical” changes or gestures that make the most impact. The small “wisps” count too.