Written by: Akshika Jangid
Tapping into human emotions and creating connections with characters who feel real, with their flaws and dreams, Pixar films have excelled at exploring psychological themes that few adult films have done justice to. Take, for example, the highly anticipated sequel Inside Out 2, which arrived in cinemas last year and left audiences in awe of its scriptwriting, story, animation, and all the other elements that comprise great filmmaking. This movie was both entertaining and thought-provoking, becoming one of the last truly genius pieces Pixar has produced.
The film beautifully captures what goes on inside Riley’s mind, portraying it as a rich tapestry of worldbuilding that offers profound insights into concepts of identity, emotions, and memory. Even the smallest conversations in the story leave a lasting impact, making Riley’s mind feel like a fascinating place to explore.
Optimism Vs Reality
Inside Out 2 begins with Joy happily storing good memories and discarding the bad ones, explaining to Sadness, “We keep the best and toss the rest.” Joy wants Riley to hold on to her positive memories, believing they will help her navigate difficult times in the future, such as “I am a good friend” and “I am a hard worker” that acts as a motivating affirmation in the film and even in real life.
When 13-year-old Riley wakes up one morning with deep thoughts and a big fat attitude, four new emotions visit her brain which are embarrassment, Envy, and Ennui — that sighs in a French accent, “It’s what you would call… boredom.” But it’s one of the four emotions that is Anxiety who quickly grabs control and guides her actions. To plan Riley’s future, a little like Woody from Toy Story trying to keep everything together.
The trouble begins when Anxiety whispers, “OK Riley, let’s change everything about you.” From there, things spiral—her desperate attempts to protect Riley by making her perfect lead to something frightening: a full-blown panic attack. The breakthrough finally comes when Joy and Anxiety realize that Riley’s identity can’t be built on only happy feelings; it has to embrace the difficult ones too.
Most psychologists call Inside Out 2 a “gift” for parents of teenagers—but really, it’s a gift for all of us. The film reminds us that tough emotions need their place too.
Why does this matter to us beyond the film?
As adults, we often try to hide our feelings, convincing ourselves that only positivity helps with a commonly heard statement, “This too shall pass”. Pixar challenges this mindset by showing that sadness, anxiety, or even boredom have roles to play. These emotions are not flaws—they are signals, parts of the larger puzzle of who we are becoming.
Pixar has been telling this message to us for decades, whether it was Woody realizing he couldn’t control Andy’s future in Toy Story, or Marlin learning to let go in Finding Nemo. At its heart, the film relies on anthropomorphizing emotions, toys, or even a fish, and then revealing core human truths about fear, love, and resilience. Inside Out 2 simply continues this tradition, but with a direct resonance to the emotional language of adolescence—a stage when identity feels fragile and emotions can seem overpowering.
The Lasting Impact
Through its storytelling prowess, Pixar has got the skill to target a specific audience during a particular scene. Just a while ago, I was watching Toy Story 3 with my dad and there’s this scene where Andy’s old toys are getting packed to send to other pre-school kids in foster homes. It is that moment which made me reminisce all my childhood memories and one toy that I just wouldn’t let my mother give away to someone else. I, on the other hand, like all the other kids, was completely absorbed in the movie wondering how Woody and Buzz got rid of the evil teddy bear named Lotso. But Pixar knew as to whom they were really trying to target. It was our parents and I realized as I turned my head towards my father getting a little emotional who looked at me and said, “How beautiful is that.” It is after that I learnt that one day, just as toys become outgrown, parents too may feel set aside when their children no longer need them in the same way. The preschool in the film almost felt like a stand-in for an old-age home—a place we might be sent to once our role as caregivers is no longer essential.
Therefore, what makes Inside Out 2 truly remarkable is its balance of accessibility with depth. Children watch it and laugh at the quirky dialogues; adults watch it and cry at the sharp familiarity of Riley’s struggles to theirs. Pixar reminds us that storytelling psychology is not about lectures—it’s about empathy. By transforming intangible feelings into characters, Pixar makes the invisible visible, turning the inner battles we all face into an adventure.
After three decades of being told that emotions—all emotions—deserve space, Pixar may finally have succeeded in making that lesson sink in. Perhaps the greatest gift of all the Pixar Films is not just for teenagers, but for anyone who is still learning how to live in harmony with their own inner world of battles and accomplishments.
There’s more to life than just happiness. 
Yes, indeed. Pixar movies remind me life is not just stitched together by only one emotion i.e. joy rather it is connected by a full spectrum of emotions that shape us, challenge us, and ultimately make us whole. While watching the first part Inside Out, there was something deep within me that moved— a feeling that every time I tried to push away my fears or more I talked about things that made me insecure, it made me even more conscious and I was only dimming a part of myself. Like Riley, I would too hold on tightly to happiness to keep myself strong. But the movie taught me something even deeper and useful that real strength is in letting the emotion play its part- even the ones that makes us feel vulnerable and puts us in an uncomfortable situation. The film’s most profound insight is that sorrow has its own kind of wisdom. Where joy alone feels brittle, sadness softens us, reconnects us with others, and creates space for empathy. It demonstrates that acknowledging when things are not okay is far healthier than pretending everything is fine. In Riley’s world — as in ours — sadness is the unlikely teacher, reminding us that brokenness, too, can be a source of connection and strength just like the Japanese art form– Kintsugi.
