Elio

Elio, Pixar Animation Studios’ 29th feature film, doesn’t land with the force of an interstellar discovery but rather drifts in as a curious anomaly: visually appealing, occasionally charming, yet ultimately disappointing in both its emotional and narrative ambition. Directed by Adrian Molina, Domee Shi, and Madeline Sharafian, and originally inspired by a deeply personal idea from Adrian Molina, Elio bears the marks of a story that’s changed course too many times throughout its production. The result is a film suspended in the void between heartfelt storytelling and commercial calculation—a pastel-colored space odyssey lacking the existential thrust that once defined Pixar’s most transcendent works. It’s by no means a crash landing, but it certainly doesn’t chart any new frontiers in the Pixar universe. Elio flirts with emotional depth but rarely commits to its themes, favoring safe metaphors and broadly palatable allegories instead.

At the center of the story is Elio Solis, an emotionally complex and lonely 11-year-old boy, voiced with sincerity and vulnerability by Yonas Kibreab. Elio is introduced as a wide-eyed dreamer yearning to escape. The grief from losing both his parents has left him emotionally and socially isolated, and his new life with his overwhelmed aunt Olga (voiced with tired compassion by Zoe Saldaña) offers little comfort. His passionate cry to the stars, scrawled in the sand—“Aliens, abduct me”—is both literal and symbolic, and the premise of a marginalized child being mistaken for Earth’s leader by well-meaning aliens holds great promise. The Communiverse, a federation of extraterrestrial civilizations that misidentify Elio as humanity’s ambassador, is a dazzling playground of psychedelic visuals and uniquely designed creatures. But despite the spectacle, the film’s emotional core feels adrift. Where Inside Out dissected adolescent emotion with surgical precision and Coco celebrated familial bonds through rich cultural specificity, Elio remains superficial, never letting its emotional heart pierce its luminous veneer.

The central conflict—Elio’s mistaken identity and his diplomatic mission with warlord Lord Grigon, voiced with flamboyant menace by Brad Garrett—is intended to mirror Elio’s internal journey. And to some extent, it works, especially with the introduction of Glordon, Grigon’s sensitive, chubby, and utterly adorable son (voiced by Remy Edgerly). Glordon’s design—part tardigrade, part larva, part plush toy—is Pixar merchandising gold, and his gentle nature and alien innocence provide the film’s most touching moments. Their friendship, born of shared alienation and a desire to be seen beyond expectations, is the closest the film gets to emotional resonance. Yet even this thread, as tender as it is, feels oddly marginalized in a screenplay constantly at odds with itself, torn between interstellar comedy, political allegory, and domestic drama. Elio plays like a film made of fragments—interesting in isolation but lacking cohesion.

There’s a noticeable absence of depth in Elio and Olga’s relationship, which should have been the film’s emotional backbone. While Zoe Saldaña delivers a professional performance, the script offers her little substance to explore. We’re told she gave up her dream of becoming an astronaut to raise Elio, but the film never lingers long enough on their interactions for this sacrifice to resonate. Her character ends up feeling like a narrative device, her emotional arc hastily resolved in the final act when she’s abruptly woven into the Communiverse climax. A subplot involving a clone of Elio living his life back on Earth adds fleeting humor but minimal narrative weight—emblematic of the film’s scattered structure. The idea of a syrupy, agreeable clone trying to behave “normally” is clever, but like much of the movie, it feels like filler rather than a fully integrated narrative thread. The clone’s presence is more about convenience than character development, a storytelling shortcut reflecting the film’s broader challenges.

Visually, Elio is never dull. The Communiverse sparkles with shimmering structures and eccentric beings, evoking the dreamlike cosmic landscapes of Soul and Inside Out. Yet while the design impresses, the storytelling rarely matches its creativity. The aliens are imaginative but largely interchangeable beyond their quirks, and the stakes of interplanetary diplomacy feel abstract and unearned. The film nods to themes of inclusion, identity, and self-worth, but stops short of exploring them meaningfully. A closing quote from Carl Sagan tips its hat to cosmic wonder and humanity’s deep yearning to not feel alone—but ironically, Elio itself feels like a film profoundly alone in its intent. It struggles to identify its audience, wavering between childlike escapism and adult sentimentality, ultimately satisfying neither.

The film’s tonal unevenness is likely a result of its turbulent production history. Initially helmed by Adrian Molina, the project was later restructured under Domee Shi and Madeline Sharafian following internal shakeups at Pixar. The loss of the more culturally specific and personal elements from Adrian Molina’s original vision is felt in the generic setting and diluted emotional stakes. The warmth and richness that defined Coco are absent, replaced by broad strokes and a story that feels more manufactured than inspired. Elio seems more intent on imitating Pixar’s past successes than finding its own voice. Echoes of Finding Nemo, Luca, and Turning Red abound, but without the same conviction. The most memorable character, Glordon, feels like he belongs in a better, more coherent version of this story—one in which his bond with Elio would be given the time and emotional space to flourish.

By the end of Elio, with its tidy resolutions, emotional reconciliations, and vague sense of closure, it’s hard not to feel a bit empty. The film checks all the expected boxes: colorful worlds, a few laughs, a reassuring message about finding your place. But it rarely feels like it believes in itself. For a movie that wants to tell outsiders they’re not alone, Elio paradoxically seems afraid to stand out, leaning too heavily on metaphor instead of confronting its themes directly. There’s a nagging frustration in watching something that has all the ingredients for greatness but settles for mediocrity. It’s like being handed a telescope and only being allowed to look through the wrong end.

Elio disappoints because it represents missed potential. It’s a film full of good intentions and visual pleasure, undermined by a script that plays it too safe, characters that lack depth, and a universe that, despite its color and creativity, never truly feels alive. Pixar’s strength has always been in telling specific, emotionally resonant stories that transcend their medium. Here, they offer a story that wants to reach for the stars but ends up circling the same old orbit.

Elio
Directed by Madeline Sharafian, Domee Shi, Adrian Molina
Written by Julia Cho, Mark Hammer, Mike Jones
Produced by Mary Alice Drumm
Starring Yonas Kibreab, Zoe Saldaña, Remy Edgerly, Brad Garrett, Jameela Jamil, Shirley Henderson
Cinematography: Derek Williams, Jordan Rempel
Edited by Anna Wolitzky, Steve Bloom
Music by Rob Simonsen
Production company: Pixar Animation Studios
Distributed by Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures
Release dates: June 10, 2025 (El Capitan Theatre), June 18, 2025 (France), June 20, 2025 (United States)
Running time: 98 minutes

Seen on June 19, 2025 at Gaumont Disney Village, Theater 16, seat A18

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