A Defense of Talking Dogs and Charles Muntz

Copyright 2009, Disney/Pixar

Apropos of, I suppose, absolutely nothing, I feel the need to stand up and defend certain aspects of the latest Walt Disney Pictures and Pixar Animation Studios film, Up. Yes, I know I'm the biggest Pixar fanboy, or certainly one of those who would defend most of their product (as I've mentioned many times in the past, if you're looking for a Cars apologist, you will not find one here). Still, after hearing some podcasts and critics, most of whom probably may not read this blog, I felt like I ought to make my tiny voice heard and see if anyone agrees, disagrees, or falls somewhere in between.

As you may have gathered from the title, I'm going to defend Charles Muntz, the villain of Up (voiced perfectly by Christopher Plummer), and all that he creates and represents within the story of the film. Having only seen the film once, I can't guarantee that my explanations will be perfect, so bear with me. Still, the film is still relatively fresh in my mind, and most of the major arguments are tied to things that are more general than specific. So, let's start. The common criticism with Charles Muntz, the Lindbergh-esque explorer who, in the 1930s, finds a mysterious species of bird in South America, is that he's either completely unnecessary within Up or he's not fully developed. Both criticisms are, to me, wrong.

First of all, let's clear the air about the major themes that Up deal with. Loss and how we deal with it is obviously major, but the theme that ties Muntz to the story, and to the lead character, Carl Fredrickson, is the inability to let go. In Carl's case, what he needs to let go is not his dream of traveling to the haven of adventure known as Paradise Falls. What Carl needs to let go of is his wife, personified as the house that he first sets aloft with balloons; later, of course, he literally drags the house through Paradise Falls, so he can bring the spirit of his wife to said falls. What Charles Muntz has a problem letting go of is the aura that once surrounded him. His name is besmirched in the 1930s by scientists who claim, falsely, that his new species of bird is a hoax. So he spends the next 70 years failing to find another of the birds, all because that species is just a bit smarter than he is, just a bit craftier, able to hide in some of the hidden areas nature created for Paradise Falls. Which is sadder: the inability to let go of one's ego or the inability to let go of one's love?

So why have Charles Muntz in the story? Sure, his story may be fascinating in some ways, but his purpose on screen is merely so Carl can meet him. Carl, who has idolized this man for his entire life, who has been in love with the idea of getting away from the real world; he must see Charles Muntz for who he has become, for the sad, crazed old man that now inhabits his body. Carl must see the price a person must pay for not letting go. Charles isn't able to move on; he's too proud to be called a fraud. Carl chooses, though, to let his life continue without being an immovable object within it. Charles stays rooted in his zeppelin, in the world he's created for himself. That world is, of course, the least human thing found in Up and, at the same time, rooted in as much realism.

And so we get to the second argument that people bring up about the movie: the talking dogs. That the dogs that Muntz has talk, in a way, doesn't pose an issue. It's that the dogs are somehow endowed with the ability to do things only humans can do: cook food, clean, and even fly small biplanes. For many people, the last one is the final straw: dogs that fly planes? You gotta be kidding. Here's why I never had a problem with the dogs, in any way: at no point do they act human. We can assume (since it's never mentioned explicitly, which is, in my opinion, a major plus) that the dogs were taught all of these human things by Muntz. I can't really imagine that Epsilon, the zeppelin's chef, figured out how to make such gourmet meals on his own. We know that the collars were created by Muntz; Muntz chose to create this world, these dogs, and he ultimately failed. Think about it: at what point do the dogs act truly like humans?

Yes, the dogs clean. Except when Muntz and the other humans aren't looking, the dog cleaning a fossilized bone tries to bite it, as a normal dog would. Yes, the dogs fly planes. And they don't fly very well, they're poor shots, and when a person says the word "squirrel," they're immediately distracted. Yes, the dogs talk. And when the dogs talk, it never sounds like the vocalized thoughts are coming from a mind that has a mastery of common English. Think about how the dogs talk. When Alpha threatens Dug late in the film, and says he'll enjoy what's about to happen, he says so in such a roundabout fashion. None of the dogs speak English the way a person fluent in the language would. And why would they? They're dogs.

Muntz tries to humanize his canine companions, but only manages to enhance how dog-like they are. Yes, the dogs cook, but those who don't try to eat the food that's surrounding them. Yes, the dogs do more than most dogs do, but they never feel like humans. If the dogs had walked upright, I'd be pissed. If Muntz wasn't meant to be a scary parallel to Carl, I'd be pissed. Neither happened. And so Up still works. Here is a movie that, the more I think about it, the more I love it. Best movie of 2009. Hope you enjoyed the mini-thesis.