I recently watched the Pixar/Disney film Coco (2017) in great company. There were two adults and two children (aged 7 and 14). Everyone enjoyed it immensely; it’s an incredibly captivating story, and I was struck by how brilliantly it’s written.
A unique setting, distinctive characters, a breathtaking series of plot twists, and emotional ingenuity that makes you laugh out loud one moment, bite your nails the next, and finally swallow your tears.
The film reminded me of a list of Pixar 'rules' I once stumbled upon. It was Pixar story artist Emma Coats who posted these "22 Story Rules" of the animation studio on Twitter in 2011. (Nowadays, Coats notes in her X-bio that she might have better referred to them as “guidelines.”)
They’re pretty good, these 22 guidelines (you can read them here, for example), but they’re also very general and it’s difficult to directly link them to existing Pixar productions.
That’s why I thought it would be nice to examine how one specific Pixar production is put together. And why not start with that delightful Coco?
The screenplay for Coco was written by Adrian Molina and Matthew Aldrich, based on a story developed by themselves, Lee Unkrich, and Jason Katz.
You probably know my approach by now. I provide a fairly detailed summary, and then I try to analyse what’s happening in terms of storytelling in each scene or block of a few scenes. And what you could possibly use from that as a writer of novels or short stories.
To keep things a bit manageable, I have divided this over two episodes of The Secrets of Fiction.
Ready? Here we go.
Coco
Right from the opening sequence, the Coco writers throw the "show, don't tell" principle out the window. The film begins with a voiceover from Miguel, a 12-year-old Mexican boy - the protagonist:
"Sometimes, I think I'm cursed, because of something that happened before I was even born. See, a long time ago there was this family…" Miguel says, before telling the viewer about his great-great-grandparents.
Miguel's great-great-grandfather was a musician who dreamed of conquering the world with his music. One day, he set off with his guitar and never returned. His wife, Imelda, was left behind with their baby daughter, Coco. Imelda banished all music from her life and her daughter's, and threw herself into a career as a shoemaker.
When the film begins, that daughter, Coco, is still alive: she is Miguel's great-grandmother, now very old and forgetful, perhaps even suffering from dementia.
In Miguel's family, music is still forbidden, but he loves it, especially the music of the legendary and prematurely deceased singer Ernesto de la Cruz.
Miguel has a secret attic room where he has collected his De la Cruz memorabilia and where he secretly keeps a guitar. He also watches old black-and-white TV recordings of De la Cruz: the man talks about his success in those old interviews in a rather American Dream-like way, saying stuff like "follow your heart and you'll succeed".
For now, this seems to be where the film Coco is heading: the story of a boy pursuing success as a musician — after many setbacks, he will succeed.
'I wanna be just like him,' Miguel says of de la Cruz, and we can consider this an explicit goal. The film has been running for 6 minutes and 20 seconds, and we have been given all the background information we need at a rapid pace. The story can begin.
Ofrenda
On Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead, Miguel finds out that a talent show is being held in the town where he lives. Should he sign up? Can he finally show his family that he has talent, that he was born to make music?
Structurally, you could consider that talent show to be the inciting incident: the status quo of Miguel's life is disrupted by an opportunity for change.
Meanwhile, in his great-grandmother Coco's room, an ofrenda is being set up: a small altar with photos of deceased family members. At the top: the portrait of great-great-grandmother Imelda, little Coco, and her father (whose head is torn off the photo, as he was that horrible musician who left).
These photos allow the souls of the dead to cross over to the land of the living on Día de los Muertos and be with their family. Without these photos, they can't visit.
This explanation, given in the film by Miguel's grandmother, contains the entire crux of the film. We, as viewers, don't know that at the moment, but our minds are being prepared for what's to come. (In psychology, this is known as priming.)
Skull
When Grandma is gone, Miguel accidentally knocks over the portrait of his great-great-grandparents.
The frame breaks, he takes the photo out, and part of it turns out to be folded over: on that part, you can see how the headless great-great-grandfather is holding a guitar. Not just any guitar: it's a model whose head is shaped like a skull; it's the guitar that Ernesto de la Cruz became famous with.
Miguel is immediately convinced that the anonymous man in the photo must be De la Cruz. And that he himself therefore is the great-great-grandson of the musical legend.
Ecstatic with joy, he shares his new insights with his family.
A couple of quick notes. The breaking of that portrait - and Miguel's subsequent discovery - could be considered a second inciting incident. It's quite coincidental, however, that Miguel is the one who knocks over the portrait and that he's the one who makes that discovery. I'll come back to that later.
This scene serves a second function: Miguel's conviction that Ernesto de la Cruz is his family is what we call a red herring: we, the audience, are being misled, but we just don't know that yet.
Talent show
Back to the story: Miguel's action (his 'coming out' as a musician and as the great-great-grandson of Ernesto de la Cruz) is followed by a reaction: his family thinks he's crazy, and his grandmother smashes his guitar to pieces.
That's an obstacle for Miguel's quest to realize his dream. What's a guitarist without a guitar?
His family's reaction makes Miguel so angry that he follows up with a new action: he runs away from home and decides to secretly participate in the talent show.
He signs up at the bandstand where the event will take place, but then a new obstacle arises: he can only participate if he has a guitar.
He frantically tries to borrow a guitar here and there. Nobody wants to help him.
In terms of story structure, we are now in a mini-crisis.
But then an image pops into Miguel's head, which we've seen briefly earlier in the film: a mausoleum dedicated to Ernesto de la Cruz, where his guitar also hangs.
Miguel manages to break into the building and takes the guitar off the wall. A mini-climax: he has achieved this one goal.
Land of the Dead
As soon as Miguel strikes a chord on the guitar, something seems to happen. On the ground lie petals from the marigold, the flower that plays an important role on Día de los Muertos, and these petals start to glow, although it is not immediately clear what that means.
A guard bursts in - but he doesn't see Miguel; in fact, he walks right through him.
Outside, in the cemetery, it's incredibly busy because of Día de los Muertos, but there, too, people don't see Miguel. The only ones who can see him are the dead, who have also gathered for the festivities.
After wandering around for a while, Miguel comes across his own family, that is to say: the deceased members of it, who recognize him from celebrations of Día de los Muertos in previous years.
Everyone is puzzled: what is Miguel doing among the dead? And is there perhaps a connection to another problem: Miguel's great-great-grandmother, Imelda, was not allowed to cross the border between the Land of the Dead and the Land of the Living.
In the hope of resolving the situation, the family, together with Miguel, crosses the bridge between the two worlds. They check in at a sort of customs terminal.
Multifunctional Scenes
Now we come to a seemingly insignificant scene, that is actually very important, and interesting for us as writers. Let me take a moment to dwell on it.
The customs building looks a lot like a modern airport. There are officials who use facial scanners to check whether the dead who are signing in there have any photos on ofrendas. If so, they are allowed to pass.
The rules are strict: no photo, no passage.
That's what this scene wants to teach us about the world we're entering. So, it's an informative moment.
We see a couple of illustrations of this information: a dead couple who are allowed through; their still-living son has placed a photo of them on his ofrenda.
And strangely enough: Frida Kahlo, who is not allowed through. You would think that there would be countless images of the famous painter in the world of the living!
It turns out that she’s not really Frida Kahlo: it’s a rather deceitful little man in disguise. No photo of him has been placed, he is not allowed through. He tries to run through anyway, but is taken back by the border police.
This 'con man' will play an important role later in the story. So that's the second function of this scene: to introduce us to him. And not just to him: also to his tragedy, function number three. Apparently, he was so unloved in life that people no longer put up photos of him after his death.
It's also, function four, an introduction of Frida Kahlo into this story. The 'real' one will also play a role later on.
So it's an incredibly well-written scene: in just over a minute long, and not only is information given about the workings of this world, but above all, various narrative elements are set into motion.
Conditional Blessing
Miguel ends up with his family in the office of a clerk, who informs them that they are cursed: "Día de los Muertos is a night to give to the dead," he says, and to Miguel: "You stole from the dead."
Well, that explains one element.
But why couldn’t Mama Imelda cross over? Miguel shows her the photo that fell off the ofrenda and that he had with him when he ended up in the Land of the Dead: the photo of Imelda, Coco, and the musician whose head has been torn off.
So, it’s true: Imelda’s photo is not on the ofrenda, and thus she cannot go to the Land of the Living to celebrate Día de los Muertos with her family.
What can be done?
According to the clerk, the solution is simple. “The way to undo a family curse is to get your family’s blessing.”
However, this must happen before sunrise, and here we have a classic element of tension: the ticking clock, the deadline, quite literally in this case.
Miguel notices that the skin on his fingers is starting to become transparent: you can see the bone; he is slowly turning into an inhabitant of the Land of the Dead.
There and Back Again
Great-great-grandmother Imelda takes a petal from the marigold and gives her blessing to Miguel, but she adds a condition: that he renounces music forever.
Miguel is outraged but still says, “Fine.” He takes the petal from her, and whoosh - he's back in the mausoleum.
Everything is back to normal there.
But once again, Miguel takes Ernesto de la Cruz's guitar off the wall, and whoosh - he's right back in the customs officer's office. He's only been gone for about twenty seconds.
This is incredibly funny.
Miguel now tries to see if one of his other relatives will bless him without the condition of having to swear off music - but no one dares.
Then Miguel thinks: Ernesto de la Cruz is also family. If he can track down the great singer, surely he will give him his blessing without any conditions.
Miguel flees the office and then the film enters a new phase.
Dual objective
We're at the 32nd minute, a third of the way through the film.
You could say this is the end of the first act or the first chapter. Whatever you call it, there is a clear dividing line here.
Up until this point, Coco told the story of a young boy who wants to play the guitar (goal 1). On his way to fulfilling his goal, he makes a moral mistake: he steals the guitar of his great idol, who he believes to be his great-great-grandfather. As a result, he ends up in the Land of the Dead, and he wants to get out of there (objective 2).
There seems to be a simple solution to get him back to the Land of the Living, and so it happened, only: he breaks the conditions and is immediately catapulted back to the Land of the Dead, where he is once again presented with those conditions, which he still refuses to accept.
Miguel now has a new, combined goal: he wants to return to the Land of the Living and he wants to be able to continue making music once he's back.
Not only does this make things a lot more complicated, but a deadline has also been set for achieving this dual objective: it must be done before dawn.
I will pause my analysis here. Next time I'll discuss the rest of the film. In the meantime, you have the opportunity to watch Coco, or watch it again. The film can be streamed via Disney+, Apple TV, and Amazon Prime.
When watching, pay particular attention to the pacing. It seems very friendly and relaxed, there's plenty of room for little (visual) jokes, yet the plot developments follow each other at a rapid pace.
Notice how frequently obstacles are introduced: time and time again. Some are tiny and are overcome in a few seconds, while some complications are enormous and won’t be resolved until the end of the film — if at all.
Rules, no rules, guidelines or principles: at Pixar they sure know how to tell a story.
Until next time!
Jamal
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