More Real, Less Memorable

Ever signed up for something only for it to get canceled?

That's probably one of the most annoying things about spring in Texas (aside from allergies and bugs).

This past weekend, my wife and I were supposed to run in a 5k that we had signed up for months ago. As I have mentioned before, because it's all that I am at times, I've been running ever since I was little. When I met my wife back in college, she started running more with me, and it eventually became a hobby that we both enjoyed.

We of course ran at different paces; however, we enjoyed late-night LSDs together (and don't worry, I'm not talking about the drug).

We had been training for the race and were honestly pretty excited since it was our first one back in around a year and a half. I should've known something was awry, though. First, we drove an hour away for packet pickup only to find out it was on the wrong day. Second, the forecast had shown rain all week.

Regardless, we stayed positive.

When we drove home from Oklahoma the day before the race, everything seemed perfect. Cooler weather, on-time packet pickup, fresh legs from a relaxing week, we genuinely were ready to go.

That was until we got a text that read:

"Race postponed due to flooding in the area."

And not only was it postponed for a day or two, but almost three weeks—which, for my runners reading, really sucks when you just finished your taper.

So... what did we do?

We decided to do what any disappointed runner would do… go see Toy Story 5.

Which is apparently extremely hard to get tickets for around 7 p.m. on opening night... go figure.

Going to the movies is something my wife and I genuinely love to do, and for a rainy day in Texas, it seemed like the perfect fix.

We got there early, grabbed an Icee, found our seats, and relaxed. After my wife buried herself under several blankets, we got to laugh and experience something new together.

Toy Story 5 was also right up our alley since we both love comedy and kids' movies (you could not pay us to see a horror movie).

While watching the movie, though, I couldn't help but notice something that has slowly changed over the years.

Also, no, I'm not going to spoil the movie.

You're going to have to go watch it for yourself.

As a '99 baby, I grew up with the Disney classics, most of which I watched on VHS tapes. Remember when you had to sit through every preview? Or physically rewind the tape when the movie ended?

The musical scores fit perfectly. The stories were memorable. The audience wasn't just meant to be kids.

But I think the one thing modern animated movies get wrong is the animation style itself.

The newer movies look more and more life-like, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but where's the warm and fuzzy feeling that came from watching something that felt animated?

For a long time, I assumed hand-drawn styles had disappeared because animation technology had simply moved on.

Then I watched Klaus.

The film still gives off that same feeling that many of us grew up with. It feels artistic. It feels intentional. It feels handcrafted.

Which makes me wonder:

Why does it feel like every new movie is either a continuation of an existing franchise or another attempt at making animation look as realistic as possible?

Don't get me wrong. Toy Story 10 will probably be a thing... and I'll still watch it.

But I'd rather see new ideas come to life than another live-action remake or continuation of something we've already seen.

I miss the days when each movie felt different, more intricate, and more like a piece of art than a continuation of something that already existed.

When art becomes more realistic, it seems like we leave imagination behind and step back into reality.

Even early cartoons like Tom and Jerry (the OG version, not the 2000s remake) often showed humans only from the waist down. Why? Maybe it was intentional. Maybe it was to show the audience what the characters saw and reacted to rather than focusing on the people themselves.

Whatever the reason, it left room for imagination.

Somewhere along the way, animation became more impressive. More detailed. More 3D. More life-like.

But with that realism, I can't help but wonder if we lost some of what made it special.

Today's animated movies are technological masterpieces. The lighting is amazing. The facial expressions are so realistic. The characters' worlds feel alive.

But when I think back to the movies that grabbed me as a kid, it isn't the “realism” I remember.

It's the feeling.

Maybe that's why so many modern animated films seem to blend together in my mind. Not because they're bad, but because they're all chasing the same thing: realism.

And while animation has become more realistic than ever, one could make the argument that it has become less memorable along the way.

Maybe getting rained out was worth it.

I went to the theater expecting to watch a movie and was left wondering why some forms of art become more impressive while somehow feeling a little less magical.