"Bao" Really Isn't That Hard to Figure Out
I’ve been a little baffled by the reaction to Pixar’s newest short film, “Bao.” Based on internet comments, it seems there have only been a handful of people who liked or appreciated it. The majority found it weird and “didn’t get it.”
What’s not to get? Sure, it’s a little unusual compared to some of the other Pixar shorts like “For the Birds,” which Pixar itself calls “deceptively simple” in terms of its plot and humor. Maybe that’s where viewers got lost with “Bao”: it is neither simple nor light, which one would expect for children’s entertainment.
For those who haven’t yet seen “Bao,” the short film preceding The Incredibles 2, let me give you a rundown of the story. Like most (all?) Pixar shorts, there is no dialogue, which I find quite impressive. The short opens with an older Chinese-Canadian woman preparing dumplings and an extravagant meal for her husband, who gobbles up some of the food before leaving for work abruptly. The mother begins to clean up the mess when one of the dumplings suddenly comes to life, growing little arms, legs, eyes, and a mouth. She adopts the dumpling as her child and takes it with her on her daily errands to the bakery for donuts, on bus rides, and to the park for yoga practice.
The little dumpling grows older and begins to develop a mind of its own. It no longer wants to practice yoga in the park with its mother. Instead, it wanders off to play soccer with the other kids. It becomes a moody, brooding teenager, and later, a grown man who brings home a blonde, white girlfriend. The night he moves out of his mother’s house, the mother fights to hold onto him, dragging him away from the door. In a final act of desperation, she picks him up and swallows him whole.
Sinking into loneliness and depression, the mother lies down in the dumpling’s old bed and cries. A knock comes to the door and, after her eyes adjust, she discovers that her real son (whose head shape resembles the dumpling) has returned home. He sits down beside his mother and they tearfully share a box of donuts.
The son brings his girlfriend over and the mother bonds with them both while teaching them how to make dumplings. Reconciliation follows, along with a mutual understanding of one another. A happy ending for all.
I myself adored “Bao,” and I have to admit that I cried. Stories about motherhood touch my heart for some reason. I also very much appreciate the way Pixar films explore different cultures as in “Sanjay’s Super Team” and Coco. For me, “Bao” was such a sweet, thoughtful commentary not only on parenting and empty nest syndrome, but on parenting and empty nest syndrome within other cultures. I can’t express this idea better than the author does in this article so I won’t dig too deeply other than to say that our American culture is generally quite preoccupied with and familiar with individualism and the idea of leaving the nest as soon as possible. For me, it was interesting to see this common human experience explored outside of an American lens.
But back to that question: What’s not to get? Let’s start by addressing the most controversial moment in “Bao.”
I’ve seen complaints from “it was weird” to “it made my daughter cry” to “it made me laugh” on internet posts about this film, especially concerning the shocking and climactic scene in which the mother eats the dumpling to stop him from leaving home. And yes, shocking it was. This is the point where I believe viewers really didn’t “get it.”
It was dramatic. It was drastic. It was devastating. The mother’s behavior is certainly not healthy. But into what more realistic behavior might we translate this scene? Maybe an overprotective father who won’t let his daughter date. Maybe a mother who takes her son’s car keys when he wants to leave. Maybe even something more extreme, like a violent altercation between a parent and a child during a disagreement. It is whatever that huge, confrontational moment between parent and child ends up being, the pivotal moment when things change for good, when the mother or father realizes that the child can think for himself, act for himself, and provide for himself. It is the ultimate flight from the nest.
My boyfriend called the mother overbearing, to which I responded yes-but-no. Consuming the dumpling is the mother’s means of control, her last attempt to keep her child. Rather than losing him to the world out there, she chooses instead to lock him up where he can never escape—and she instantly regrets it. The dumpling is now gone for good. They say that if you love something, let it go. They also say the tighter you cling to something, the more likely you are to lose it. Insert whatever proverb you want.
What’s not to get? Sure, it’s a little unusual compared to some of the other Pixar shorts like “For the Birds,” which Pixar itself calls “deceptively simple” in terms of its plot and humor. Maybe that’s where viewers got lost with “Bao”: it is neither simple nor light, which one would expect for children’s entertainment.
For those who haven’t yet seen “Bao,” the short film preceding The Incredibles 2, let me give you a rundown of the story. Like most (all?) Pixar shorts, there is no dialogue, which I find quite impressive. The short opens with an older Chinese-Canadian woman preparing dumplings and an extravagant meal for her husband, who gobbles up some of the food before leaving for work abruptly. The mother begins to clean up the mess when one of the dumplings suddenly comes to life, growing little arms, legs, eyes, and a mouth. She adopts the dumpling as her child and takes it with her on her daily errands to the bakery for donuts, on bus rides, and to the park for yoga practice.
The little dumpling grows older and begins to develop a mind of its own. It no longer wants to practice yoga in the park with its mother. Instead, it wanders off to play soccer with the other kids. It becomes a moody, brooding teenager, and later, a grown man who brings home a blonde, white girlfriend. The night he moves out of his mother’s house, the mother fights to hold onto him, dragging him away from the door. In a final act of desperation, she picks him up and swallows him whole.
Sinking into loneliness and depression, the mother lies down in the dumpling’s old bed and cries. A knock comes to the door and, after her eyes adjust, she discovers that her real son (whose head shape resembles the dumpling) has returned home. He sits down beside his mother and they tearfully share a box of donuts.
The son brings his girlfriend over and the mother bonds with them both while teaching them how to make dumplings. Reconciliation follows, along with a mutual understanding of one another. A happy ending for all.
I myself adored “Bao,” and I have to admit that I cried. Stories about motherhood touch my heart for some reason. I also very much appreciate the way Pixar films explore different cultures as in “Sanjay’s Super Team” and Coco. For me, “Bao” was such a sweet, thoughtful commentary not only on parenting and empty nest syndrome, but on parenting and empty nest syndrome within other cultures. I can’t express this idea better than the author does in this article so I won’t dig too deeply other than to say that our American culture is generally quite preoccupied with and familiar with individualism and the idea of leaving the nest as soon as possible. For me, it was interesting to see this common human experience explored outside of an American lens.
But back to that question: What’s not to get? Let’s start by addressing the most controversial moment in “Bao.”
I’ve seen complaints from “it was weird” to “it made my daughter cry” to “it made me laugh” on internet posts about this film, especially concerning the shocking and climactic scene in which the mother eats the dumpling to stop him from leaving home. And yes, shocking it was. This is the point where I believe viewers really didn’t “get it.”
It was dramatic. It was drastic. It was devastating. The mother’s behavior is certainly not healthy. But into what more realistic behavior might we translate this scene? Maybe an overprotective father who won’t let his daughter date. Maybe a mother who takes her son’s car keys when he wants to leave. Maybe even something more extreme, like a violent altercation between a parent and a child during a disagreement. It is whatever that huge, confrontational moment between parent and child ends up being, the pivotal moment when things change for good, when the mother or father realizes that the child can think for himself, act for himself, and provide for himself. It is the ultimate flight from the nest.
My boyfriend called the mother overbearing, to which I responded yes-but-no. Consuming the dumpling is the mother’s means of control, her last attempt to keep her child. Rather than losing him to the world out there, she chooses instead to lock him up where he can never escape—and she instantly regrets it. The dumpling is now gone for good. They say that if you love something, let it go. They also say the tighter you cling to something, the more likely you are to lose it. Insert whatever proverb you want.
It's really not that strange of a scene when you consider the realistic parallels that it wants to address. I think, however, that viewers who struggled with this film failed to realize that realistic parallels were, in fact, at play here. “Bao” explores one of my favorite literary and artistic genres, magic realism, and magic realism is often lost on those who don’t fully understand the fundamentals of the genre. When reading literary works of magic realism, the rule of thumb requires the reader to suspend disbelief, to accept that the bizarre, the surreal, and the fantastic occur naturally in the given setting and story.
In other words: A dumpling that comes to life and grows into an adult is perfectly normal in the world of “Bao,” as is the mother eating the dumpling in retaliation. In our world, of course, these things would be worrisome.
This is the first place where I think viewers got lost. Accepting an anthropomorphic dumpling might be too farfetched for some. I get it. I really do. Let’s then ask the question of whether or not the story would’ve been the same if we knew from the beginning that the dumpling represented the son, or if the story were told about the son rather than about a dumpling. How would it have been different?
I would argue that making these changes takes away from the magic of the story. I also propose that the dumpling might symbolize some serious mental health issues for the mother, who is transposing her feelings onto an inanimate object.
So for those who are uncomfortable with the literal idea of a dumpling coming to life, let’s leave the realm of magic realism and assume that this mother is severely mentally ill to the point of hallucinating that a dumpling takes the place of her own child. Which story do you prefer? A mentally ill mother or an anthropomorphic dumpling?
And the better question: Does it matter? The story progresses and ends the same way. The difference is in how it’s told.
All of these ponderings then force me to ask why an anthropomorphic dumpling is any crazier than a young boy wandering into the land of the dead, cars that can talk, monsters who run a corporation, and toys that come to life when no one is looking. The only answer I can fathom is that unlike Coco, Cars, Monsters, Inc., or Toy Story, “Bao” touches on subject matter that is perhaps a little too mature for young audiences. Children don’t understand empty nest syndrome and lonely parents. Was “Bao” appropriate for the intended age of audiences seeing The Incredibles 2? Probably not—unless you’re like me and think that we twenty- or thirty-year-olds, the ones who awaited the sequel for the past fourteen years, are the actual intended audience, in which case I digress.
I always hunt the internet for opinions that sync with mine when I adore something that others dislike, or when I dislike something that others adore. I do think “Bao” is a masterpiece, but perhaps it isn’t for everyone. I had a similar experience when I saw Manchester by the Sea, a film about grief and surviving trauma. The general consensus for this film was that it was “slow” and “boring.” I argue those who felt this way just didn’t understand the film. It wasn’t about a fast-moving plot or heavy actions scenes. It was about a man realizing he “can’t beat” his grief and learning to live his life in spite of that. It didn't have a happy ending. Grief doesn't always have a happy ending. Sometimes you can't beat it, and that's okay.
(Note to self: Write a review about Manchester by the Sea.)
Does the same hold true for “Bao”? Were viewers expecting one thing but received something else? Perhaps. But at the end of the day, I look forward to more Pixar shorts like this, ones that challenge our views and sync magic and fantasy with reality.
After all, Disney and Pixar productions are for people of all ages. I eagerly await Toy Story 4 but I also demand more “Bao.”
In other words: A dumpling that comes to life and grows into an adult is perfectly normal in the world of “Bao,” as is the mother eating the dumpling in retaliation. In our world, of course, these things would be worrisome.
This is the first place where I think viewers got lost. Accepting an anthropomorphic dumpling might be too farfetched for some. I get it. I really do. Let’s then ask the question of whether or not the story would’ve been the same if we knew from the beginning that the dumpling represented the son, or if the story were told about the son rather than about a dumpling. How would it have been different?
I would argue that making these changes takes away from the magic of the story. I also propose that the dumpling might symbolize some serious mental health issues for the mother, who is transposing her feelings onto an inanimate object.
So for those who are uncomfortable with the literal idea of a dumpling coming to life, let’s leave the realm of magic realism and assume that this mother is severely mentally ill to the point of hallucinating that a dumpling takes the place of her own child. Which story do you prefer? A mentally ill mother or an anthropomorphic dumpling?
And the better question: Does it matter? The story progresses and ends the same way. The difference is in how it’s told.
All of these ponderings then force me to ask why an anthropomorphic dumpling is any crazier than a young boy wandering into the land of the dead, cars that can talk, monsters who run a corporation, and toys that come to life when no one is looking. The only answer I can fathom is that unlike Coco, Cars, Monsters, Inc., or Toy Story, “Bao” touches on subject matter that is perhaps a little too mature for young audiences. Children don’t understand empty nest syndrome and lonely parents. Was “Bao” appropriate for the intended age of audiences seeing The Incredibles 2? Probably not—unless you’re like me and think that we twenty- or thirty-year-olds, the ones who awaited the sequel for the past fourteen years, are the actual intended audience, in which case I digress.
I always hunt the internet for opinions that sync with mine when I adore something that others dislike, or when I dislike something that others adore. I do think “Bao” is a masterpiece, but perhaps it isn’t for everyone. I had a similar experience when I saw Manchester by the Sea, a film about grief and surviving trauma. The general consensus for this film was that it was “slow” and “boring.” I argue those who felt this way just didn’t understand the film. It wasn’t about a fast-moving plot or heavy actions scenes. It was about a man realizing he “can’t beat” his grief and learning to live his life in spite of that. It didn't have a happy ending. Grief doesn't always have a happy ending. Sometimes you can't beat it, and that's okay.
(Note to self: Write a review about Manchester by the Sea.)
Does the same hold true for “Bao”? Were viewers expecting one thing but received something else? Perhaps. But at the end of the day, I look forward to more Pixar shorts like this, ones that challenge our views and sync magic and fantasy with reality.
After all, Disney and Pixar productions are for people of all ages. I eagerly await Toy Story 4 but I also demand more “Bao.”
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