Sorry, ticker-taker guy, my family lives 2000 miles away and I'm in love with an animated race car.
That's why I'm a lonely person.
Typically, when I walk into a Pixar film, I'm there to see a film. I walk in with a critical vocabulary and a set of expectations and a metric for gauging whether that film is meeting the potential that I know Pixar has.
When I walk into Cars, it's none of that. I'm there to see my friends. To live in that world, and cheer my baby race car on, be right there with him, no matter what happens. Leave tread across red mesas, and on bridges over humid rivers. Fly wild in the dark through the Great Smoky Mountains and strange pockets of Tennessee that have left time behind. There's no story--just Lightning, race car. Doc, heartbreakingly proud of him. Thunder Hollow, cheerily life-threatening. Cruz. Cruz. <3
Yup, I cried. Multiple times. More than any other Pixar film. (No, it's not Up. It's not Toy Story 3. You probably won't cry. But it's mine, it's mine.) Even though I think Lightning has an unhealthy relationship with Doc's memory and I think even Sally thinks it's a little nuts. But anyway--glass houses, probably. I cried on the way home, too. I didn't want to leave. If I lived in Anaheim, I'd be at Carsland right now. I want to go back to the theatre.
On my way home, away from sunset, I dropped the sunroof all the way back, windows down, and blasted the Cars orchestral score all the way home. Ended up at a stoplight with a guy who had the same idea--drop the top, down the windows, blast the tunes--so we sat there with his booming rap and my soaring Randy Newman.
I want to be able to articulate why I love him so much, but mostly all I come up with is an emotional repetition of my baby my baby my baby. Who will always be my baby, even though now he's all grown up. <3
And also he's an animated race car.