Pixar did it again. It turned a city into a metaphor, a story of impossible love into a bridge, and a girl made of fire into a mirror for the many children who feel that, no matter how hard they try, they never quite fit in. Elemental isn’t just a story about differences; it’s a film about identity, expectations, migration, prejudice… and yes, also about love.
But this time, love isn’t just romantic (although Wade and Ember give us a delightful chemistry beyond all physical logic). It’s also the love between father and daughter, between generations, between roots and wings. And when a child watches this film, they’re not seeing fire and water. They’re seeing what happens when you’re told you can’t be who you are, when they ask you not to feel so strongly, or when loyalty to your family clashes with the life you want to build.
Ember is impulsive, strong, intense, and brave. But she’s also quick to anger, she explodes, and she’s afraid of disappointing. She can’t enter certain places, she’s constantly required to be careful, and although she has talent, passion, and a giant heart, the world doesn’t seem made for her. Does that sound familiar? Many children—especially those with big emotions, with energy that doesn’t fit in the classroom, with anger that no one has taught them to name—see in Ember a reflection of themselves.
And Wade, for his part, is pure emotion. He cries, he’s moved, he opens up. He represents that new, free, gentle masculinity that so many children need to see to know that there’s nothing wrong with being sensitive, with showing tenderness, with crying without guilt.
Ember’s parents aren’t just secondary characters. They’re the story of many families who arrive in a new place with big dreams, strong accents, and a baggage full of cultural pride. They are parents who love so much that sometimes they unintentionally push too hard. They gave everything for their children, and who expect—with all good intentions—that those children will return the sacrifice by following a plan they already outlined. From a developmental psychology perspective, this touches on deep threads of attachment, belonging, and identity construction in diverse contexts. Who am I when my roots are one way, but my wings want to fly another?
Beyond the visual, the film speaks to children with questions they can’t always say out loud. What if I’m different? What if I don’t want to follow the path my parents dreamed for me? What if I feel too much, get too angry, or get too emotional? Is there a place for me in the world if I don’t know how to «calm down»?
We accompany. We name. We don’t try to put out the fire or dry the tears. We let our children also teach us who they are, even if that disrupts our ideas about what they «should be.» Because sometimes, the bravest thing a parent can do is allow their child to not look like them.
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