For over a decade, I’ve consistently championed Cars, placing it among Pixar’s most exceptional films. While many prioritize Wall-E, Up, Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc., Toy Story, Toy Story 3, and Inside Out, I wholeheartedly include Ratatouille, Toy Story 2, and Cars in this esteemed group. This often meets with disagreement. The common refrain is: “Cars is silly. What’s with its world? Where are the humans? How did cars become sentient? Why the door handles?!” These questions, to me, miss the point. They are nitpicking, irrelevant to the story’s core, and typical of those who believe they are more insightful than the filmmakers who dedicated five years to this project. I don’t have answers to these questions, nor do I seek them. My enduring affection for this quirky and charming 2006 animated film stems from its animation, design, and stellar voice cast.
Cars centers on Lightning McQueen (voiced by Owen Wilson), a hotshot rookie race car driven by the ambition to win the Piston Cup, the year’s most prestigious race. After a dramatic three-way tie, a final race is set in California to determine the champion. This necessitates a cross-country journey for the racers and their teams to Los Angeles. En route, Mack, McQueen’s hauler voiced by John Ratzenberger, falls victim to driver fatigue. A trailer malfunction leads to McQueen becoming stranded in the desert. He inadvertently finds himself on the legendary Route 66 and ends up in the forgotten town of Radiator Springs. There, amidst various misadventures, he learns about a slower pace of life, appreciating the simple joy of driving, detached from competition, fame, or fortune. Eventually, McQueen fulfills his obligations to Radiator Springs and proceeds to Los Angeles for the championship showdown.
A significant reason many seem to dismiss Cars is its focus on auto racing, specifically NASCAR-style stock car racing. Growing up in Tennessee, NASCAR was a constant presence. Yet, I never truly grasped the sport – even now, the term “sport” feels debatable. Are the drivers the athletes, or are the cars themselves? This is where Cars gains its intrigue for me. It took something unfamiliar and made it relatable, despite my lifelong exposure to NASCAR culture and its fans. This ability to bridge the gap is, in my opinion, a major strength of the film, frequently overlooked.
Narratively, Cars might not be Pixar’s most complex story. However, Pixar’s unique creative ethos and their commitment to masterful storytelling ensure that even their less celebrated films surpass the majority of animated features from other studios. Cars is certainly not Minions. But it’s also not quite on par with Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc., or Wall-E in terms of widespread critical acclaim. So, why do I consider it top-tier? The answer, perhaps too obvious, lies in the animation itself. Many film critics, Academy voters, and amateur bloggers lack a nuanced understanding of how to evaluate animated films. This is particularly frustrating for someone like myself aspiring to build a career in this industry. Film professionals who haven’t stepped inside an animation studio, or taken the time to watch a DVD extra explaining the intricate process of animated filmmaking, often neglect the most fundamental aspect: the animation itself.
The animation in Cars 2006 is truly remarkable. Imbuing life into stoic, multi-ton machines comprised of gears, spark plugs, belts, and fluids is a monumental achievement, and Pixar’s execution is unparalleled. Firstly, and crucially linked to the film’s design, the cars’ eyes are intelligently positioned on the windshield, moving away from the cliché headlight placement. This is inherently logical – humans view the road through the windshield, so anthropomorphic vehicles should do the same. Secondly, the tires are reimagined as hands and feet. This, too, is a stroke of genius. Just as Milt Kahl’s tiger convincingly walked on all fours in The Jungle Book, so do these car characters move with a natural physicality. It’s not just the decision to make tires hands and feet, but the nuanced animation of these tires that makes the concept so captivating. Each subtle flick of Lightning McQueen’s tires during conversation conveys confidence, stubbornness, and youthful exuberance. Doc Hudson, conversely, rarely lifts his wheels. His movements and driving are characterized by age, patience, and calculated precision. These tires transcend mere rubber; they are a powerful tool for animators to express character and personality.
Complementing the car designs and windshield eye placement, the film’s overall world-building is exceptionally well-conceived. The environment crafted for these characters is genuinely engaging. Ramps, rest stops, traffic lights – elements familiar to human drivers are amplified and integrated seamlessly into their world. Ramps are ubiquitous, and streetlights are plentiful. Even nature is reimagined through an automotive lens. In Radiator Springs, Cadillac Range mountains echo the iconic tail fins of 1950s Cadillacs. Insects resemble Volkswagen Beetles, leaving tiny tire tracks on windows. The film’s design is consistently fun and rewarding to observe, revealing new details with each viewing. Furthermore, The Art of Cars book offers a fascinating glimpse into even more car-inspired designs that enriched the film’s development.
The voice cast of this 2006 film is another significant strength. Embracing its Southern inspiration, John Lasseter and his team assembled a cast rich in appealing Southern accents. Owen Wilson, Larry the Cable Guy, Paul Newman, Tom and Ray Magliozzi, and numerous supporting actors contributed to this authentic soundscape. (Newman, though born in Ohio, masterfully adopted a charming Southern drawl for Doc Hudson). Some viewers find Larry the Cable Guy’s voice grating and overly stereotypical. This is a valid critique. His performance is the most exaggeratedly Southern in the film, which can be off-putting even to those from the South. However, his character, Mater, is undeniably one of the most endearing and welcoming in the story, extending kindness to the stranded newcomer Lightning McQueen in Radiator Springs. Mater embodies the stereotypical Southern tow truck, but with a genuinely warm and hospitable heart.
Despite its many merits, Cars is not without flaws. The script lacks subtlety, and the dialogue can be predictable. Being a Disney film (and notably, a true Disney film, as they acquired Pixar the year of Cars‘ release), the narrative trajectory is familiar: Lightning McQueen will triumph, and themes of friendship, happiness, and goodwill will prevail. Good conquers evil, and bullies are duly humbled. The film’s middle section can feel slow-paced, and its commentary on American infrastructure and the perceived blight of the Interstate system can be somewhat didactic. Nevertheless, I maintain that Cars is a commendable Pixar film, deserving of reconsideration. It subtly weaves in automobile and American history, evoking nostalgia for the era of Route 66 cruising. For those with an appreciation for design, particularly automotive design, the film is a visual feast, packed with stunning vehicles and inside jokes that car enthusiasts will relish. Despite its shortcomings and conventional storyline, I genuinely love Cars. Viewers willing to look beyond the surface will discover its unique charms and strengths, particularly the intelligent and intricate animation and design of this perhaps underappreciated Pixar feature from 2006.
