Cars 3 is the 18th feature from Pixar. In the 22 years that the animation studio has been producing films, many have been marvelous, some were sweet, and a select few were disappointments. But never before has Pixar made a movie that’s felt superfluous. Where earlier misfires were at least nervy experiments or noble failures, the latest chapter in the company’s least-interesting franchise never shakes one’s suspicion that its existence is the direct result of corporate bottom lines and synergistic marketing strategies. It’s certainly the first Pixar film whose commercial success I’m actively rooting against.
To be fair, Cars 3 is always wondrous to look at, and its level of cutesy humor is always several notches more advanced than family-film garbage such as Minions and The Secret Life of Pets. Even on a low gear, Pixar’s brain trust generates more superficial pleasures than plenty of its peers. But that’s precisely why Cars 3 feels so egregiously mediocre. To expect a Wall-E every time is simply unfair. But it’s not churlish to note that, where there was once a commitment to delivering spectacular storytelling full of heart and humor, we’re now stuck with a dull technical expertise and some trite life lessons.
Ever since Cars came out in the summer of 2006, the series has been critics’ whipping boy, giving Pixar naysayers an opening to loudly declare that the seemingly infallible company wasn’t deserving of such hosannas. The initial backlash to Cars was understandable: After a series of dynamic action-comedies (Toy Story, The Incredibles), Pixar told a gentler, more nostalgic tale of a conceited race car, Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson), who gets sidetracked in a dying small town, discovering old-fashioned values along the way. 2011’s Cars 2 was a radical reinvention, promoting Lightning’s local-yokel buddy Mater (Larry the Cable Guy) to main character for a spy-thriller involving mistaken identity and international intrigue. It was a clunky, mechanical affair, but at least it demonstrated Pixar’s continued desire to take risks.
Now comes the new chapter, in which Lightning is once again at the helm of the story. Ironically, though, Cars 3’s major theme is that our hotshot hero discovers how quickly the limelight can be stolen from him. After years dominating the racing circuit, he faces stiff competition from a new breed of aerodynamic, cutting-edge vehicles that make him look like a relic. Even more humiliating, Lightning is consistently bested by the cocky racer, Jackson Storm (Armie Hammer), who never misses an opportunity to pay lip service to Lightning’s legacy—while driving home the fact that the former champion should retire before he further embarrasses himself on the track.
Aging and the accompanying loss of relevance became the emotional lifeblood of Pixar’s most beloved franchise, Toy Story, allowing the series to continue in ways that felt organic and poignant. In a similar vein, Cars 3 has the potential to explore the very masculine anxiety of losing one’s edge—especially when it comes to athletic competition—and in Lightning, we have an overconfident protagonist due for some comeuppance. But this sequel ends up containing neither quality that made the previous installments notable. The deeply felt, proudly square sentimentality of Cars isn’t as potent, and the high-octane exuberance of Cars 2 has been toned down. In its place, Cars 3 is stuck in a middle ground that’s largely anodyne.
Refusing to believe that his best days are behind him, Lightning meets with Sterling (Nathan Fillion), a wealthy entrepreneur who’s designing next-generation training tools for race cars. Lightning signs up, obsessed with defeating Jackson Storm, and he’s guided in his quest by Cruz Ramirez (Cristela Alonzo), one of Sterling’s trainers. She believes that this once-great racer should visualize success—a touchy-feely attitude that runs counter to Lightning’s burn-rubber, alpha-male aggressiveness.