Review of Disney Pixar’s Luca

2021, Pixar Animation/Walt Disney Studios, 95 min

Elianna Elias (Animation Major)
Brigham Young University

The sun-drenched shores of the Italian Riviera have never felt so inviting, nor so nostalgic, as in Disney Pixar’s Luca (2021). Directed by Enrico Casarosa and first screened at the Genoa Aquarium, this animated feature captures the subtle magic of a childhood summer – those fleeting, golden-hued days where adventure is limitless, friendships feel eternal, and the world seems small enough to be fully known. Beneath its whimsical surface lies a masterful exploration of escapism and simplicity, themes that resonate far beyond its pastel-colored waves.

At its core, Luca is a coming-of-age tale centered on its titular character, a curious sea monster boy (voiced in English by Jacob Tremblay) who dreams of life beyond the seafloor. Drawn to the human world, Luca finds himself on the sunlit island of Portorosso, where he teams up with the boisterous Alberto (Jack Dylan Grazer), a fellow sea monster-turned-land-dweller. Their friendship, a bond forged by shared wonder and rebellious spirit, becomes the emotional anchor of the film. Together, they chase an impossible dream: winning a local triathlon to buy a Vespa – a symbol of freedom, movement, and youthful aspiration.

What distinguishes Luca from its Pixar predecessors is its quiet defiance of narrative excess. There are no grand villains or world-threatening stakes. Instead, the film revels in the understated beauty of ordinary life. Portorosso’s cobbled streets, sun-bleached piazzas, and fishing boats bobbing lazily on the water are rendered with such affection that they feel tangible. Each frame invites viewers not to chase spectacle but to slow down and linger. In this sense, Luca operates as a kind of cinematic escapism, not through grand fantasy, but through immersion in the small, sensory pleasures of a simpler world.

This simplicity extends to its thematic core. Luca taps into a yearning for the lost innocence of childhood – a time when life’s only pressing concerns were the next adventure, the taste of fresh gelato, or the thrill of an afternoon race. Casarosa’s direction invites viewers to inhabit this world, not as spectators but as participants. There is an almost tactile quality to the film’s depiction of summer: the warmth of sun-baked stones, the salt-crusted air, and the giddy excitement of a splash into cool water. It’s a sensory experience that many will recognize, though few films have captured it with such precision.

The friendship between Luca and Alberto serves as the emotional engine of the film, embodying the boundless optimism of youth. Their shared defiance of fear – not just of the human world but of their own insecurities – becomes a subtle but powerful statement about growth and acceptance. In classic Pixar fashion, their relationship is layered with nuance, touching on themes of loyalty, jealousy, and the bittersweet realization that friends sometimes grow apart.

Rather than dwell on loss, however, Luca chooses to celebrate the transformative power of friendship, honoring the ways it shapes and strengthens us. While Luca has been praised for its vibrant animation and Italian influences, its true brilliance lies in its restraint. Unlike Pixar’s more conceptually ambitious projects like Inside Out (2015) or Soul (2020), Luca achieves profundity through intimacy. It’s a story about ordinary joys – riding a bike downhill at reckless speed, leaping into the unknown, and learning that sometimes, the scariest part of growing up is simply showing up as yourself.

With its meditative pace and devotion to sensory detail, Luca might feel unassuming next to Pixar’s more overtly philosophical entries. But therein lies its power. It does not demand attention; it earns it. In a cinematic landscape often dominated by spectacle, Luca offers something quieter but no less profound – a sunlit invitation to remember, if only for a moment, what it felt like to be young, brave, and unburdened by the world.

Leave a Reply