I was nine years old when Pixar’s Monsters, Inc. was released, and I’m not entirely sure if that was when my mother and I came to love it, or if that happened later, because it feels like we’ve always loved it. It feels like the movie has literally always been a part of my mother’s limited, yet quality favorite-movie roster—which also includes School of Rock, the Pierce Brosnan remake of The Thomas Crown Affair, and the original Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory—and I have a long history of caring about movies. But no matter when exactly the movie came into our lives, there’s no denying it was pivotal in keeping us bonded throughout my adolescence, when I got defiant and my attitude took over and I became the essence of a difficult teenager. The movie was a regular watch for us for a long time, but as I grew up, it shuffled out of my personal rotation like a lot of things tend to throughout life, clearing space to make room for new interests and passions. Now firmly planted in adulthood—I turn 30 next month—I revisited it, saw it with an adult perspective. It’s still a hilarious and silly buddy comedy, with jokes that please kids and adults alike. That hasn’t changed. But now, the heart of the film—its characters and their relationships—feels like a mirror image of my mother and I, how we’ve loved and lived alongside one another our entire lives.
The 2001 animated comedy follows monsters Sully (John Goodman) and Mike (Billy Crystal), whose world is flip-turned upside-down when a girl escapes the human world via her closet and makes her way into the monster world. Monsters, naturally, come through the closets of young children and scare them at night. But Sully (a top scarer at Monsters Incorporated, a business that runs like ConEd) and Mike (his trusty co-pilot on the scare floor) have hearts of gold and, reluctantly at first, take on the task of getting the young girl—who, naturally, forms an attachment to them both—back to her bedroom.
Like a lot of you probably feel about your own matriarchal figures, my mother is one of the most courageous, strong and purely good people in the world. While rewatching the movie, it was stunningly clear to me that my mom—based on those, and other, traits—is a textbook Sully. An archetypal heroine. She’s always been the heroine in my life, at least, swooping in on any problem, big or small, and taking it on even if she didn’t want to or didn’t know how…which is the inciting impulse in both the film and Sully’s personal arc. From helping me plot how to take on credit card debt to coming in clutch with a lighter when I could’ve sworn I put one in my bag, she has sacrificed herself to many of my crises and ushered me safely to the other side.
As for Mike, the lovable round little one-eyed weirdo who is quick with a joke and loyal to a fault? That would be me. I have nearly too much in common with the iconic Crystal character: I’m the first one to make a fool of myself to make someone laugh, I’m supportive, I’m just happy to be involved. And I need my partner in crime, you know? That’s who my mom has become in my adult years, despite our rocky relationship in my pre-teens. I was the stubborn, defiant kid who was giving the middle finger behind my parents’ backs and everyone else’s, too scared to truly be a rebel in the limelight but still aching to defy authority nonetheless. It was shortly after Avril Lavigne’s first album came out. So, it was a formative phase. I’ve since grown out of it, but now, it feels good to know I can always count on her, and that, where it counts, we think alike. Mike isn’t Mike without Sully, and Sully isn’t Sully without Mike.
Speaking of rocky, my relationship with my mom still has its moments. I think most maternal (and probably paternal) relationships do. We fight how Mike and Sully fight. We’re both stubborn and steadfast in our beliefs; it’s hard to get either of us to admit our wrongs—and sometimes harder still to get us to listen. That’s something Mike throws in Sully’s face after the pair get banished from the monster world following their discovery of a sinister plot involving the child they’ve been protecting and Monsters, Inc. CEO Mr. Waternoose. “You should’ve just listened to me,” Mike says. “You never listen.” But Mike doesn’t listen either; it’s a two-way street. That’s something I’ve found myself saying a lot to my mom over the years for all different kinds of reasons, but it probably rings more true than anything we say to one another when tensions are high. It’s something we’re continuously working toward, but when it counts, we pull it together—like these characters inevitably do.