Pixar’s first attempt at an original TV show is a home run.
Pixar has been in an unenviable position for a while now. Between multiple films being shipped directly to streaming, having to resort to half-hearted sequels, and a general sense they have lost their touch as the leaders in big budget animation, it is hard to argue their glory days are ahead of them. Instead it seems they are drafting on the remaining goodwill of their past successes, seeking for a new identity.
The good news is they may have found it, at least creatively, with their latest venture. And it comes from a fairly surprising medium: television. Namely Win Or Lose, the first ever fully original television series from the studio (RE: not a spin-off from one of their movies, which they have done twice now.) Centered on a middle school co-ed softball team, Win Or Lose is a remarkable achievement in storytelling, telling a fractured narrative that reveals depth, empathy and shocking maturity. I initially thought it was easily the best thing that Pixar has made in a decade; I increasingly am potentially convinced it is the best piece of entertainment Pixar has ever made.
Told in eight episode, each showing the same week-long period from a different perspective, Win Or Lose follows the players of the Pickles, and the adults in their lives, as they prepare for the State softball championship. But that’s really just the table setting. The actual meat of what makes Win Or Lose special is the way it uses that format to show remarkably moving, often heartbreaking human portraits of the inner lives of both kids and adults.
One episode follows Laurie, the daughter of the Pickles’ coach who worries that she won’t ever live up to her father’s expectations; this manifests in the person of a wisecracking, anthropomorphic sweat bubble who voices her inner self-doubt and imposter syndrome. Another focuses on Mr. Brown, the umpire for the softball games who is attempting to rebound from the one who got away, but uncertain if he should expose his real self or project a manufactured persona.
In fact, masking over insecurities is a running theme throughout the show. The viewer sees the actual identity of characters portrayed through dynamic magical realism, but in ways that only exist within their own heads. One of the delights is to see characters pop up in other episodes and realize we know something that those around them don’t; when we see Laurie obsessively working out in the background of another episode, we know it is because she believes that is the only way she can prove herself to her dad. Early on in the show we meet Yuwan, Pickles pitcher and obnoxious jokester. In his own episode, we learn how he uses humor as a defense mechanism to protect his sensitive inner self. His heart is literally made of cardboard.
Even the release schedule for the show feels intentional. Episodes come out on Wednesday, two at a time. While this is standard for Disney+ shows, it also allows the creators to pair episodes in interesting way. One pair includes Rochelle, the Pickles’ catcher who sees herself as having to function as an adult to make up for the immaturity of her charismatic mother, only for the paired episode to show her mother Van drowning in her own anxieties and frustrations as a young, single mother.
The only frustration with Win Or Lose is knowing it could be even better. Two more episodes remain to be released, one focusing on the Coach of the Pickles and one focusing on star player Kai. Kai was originally planned to be explicitly a trans girl, which naturally matches a lot of themes of interior life that the show focuses on. Unfortunately, due to cultural pressures and wanting to avoid blowback, Disney made the executive decision to change this, much to the frustration and pain of multiple creatives involved. Kai’s episode is set to premier next week, so I am curious to see how much they changed this depiction.
Despite this unfortunate corporate meddling, everyone involved with the show should be delighted with the final product, a profound work of compassion, empathy and love that digs at both the melancholy associated with being a kid and the anxiety that never quite escapes us into adulthood. It is a triumph in television storytelling, and suggests the depth of talent at Pixar has never been better. Hopefully it is a beacon for a golden age for the historic, groundbreaking studio.
