Pixar is an immensely lucrative film company. Its first six feature films grossed more than $3 billion. And so far as I know, praise for the company's movies has been universal and unadulterated. But Pixar's status as a profit-producing prodigy is a kind of rub. The peril of animated films lies in the corporate nature of the enterprise. An utter dependence on leading-edge technology means that the animation company is determined by the kind of competitive-minded, innovation-for-innovation's-sake imperative that is more familiar to businessmen than to artists. And soaring profits creates pressures to keep them soaring. It's significant that Pixar began as a computer-graphics outfit and then developed into a firm that made commercials for companies like Tropicana, Listerine, and LifeSavers. Pixar didn't come into its own as a movie-making enterprise until it joined up in 1991 with Disney, who helped finance the movies and, crucially, provided distribution deals. (At the moment, Pixar's current deal with Disney is scheduled to expire with the release of Cars in 2006.) Any large-scale collaboration that has to keep pace with rapidly changing technology and is driven by visions of unimaginable profits has crucial limitations. It is going to be wary of ideas that either are irrelevant to technological innovation or threaten the by-now exorbitant expectations of investors. That's why Pixar's creativity may be about to hit a glass ceiling.


Simón Vladimir Varela, Sharks, Finding Nemo © Disney/Pixar. Image courtesy Museum of Modern Art, New York.


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