Oh, dear lord. I am watching Cars 2 (I’M BORED. IT’S LATE. THE OPPORTUNITY PRESENTED ITSELF. LEAVE ME ALONE.) and it is just as bad as you think it is. I refuse to believe it’s Pixar. It cannot be anything but an elaborate prank perpetrated by some punk-ass Dreamworks lackeys carrying out a drunken dare. It’s just…it’s like the filmmakers looked at the first movie and went, “Man, this thing is more or less a dud. What’s the one element that makes it at least semi-palatable? The rustic hometown aesthetic rounded out by a small cast of lovable kooks, you say? Great! Let’s ax that and give this sucker another go!”
And don’t even get me started on the overall logic of this franchise. One of the main plot-points in Cars 2 revolves around fossil fuel. Fossil fuel. Which is identified — in the film — as coming from dinosaurs. Not dinocars. Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs apparently existed in this world. A world where cows are tractors and bugs are literal VW Bugs. I cannot even begin to imagine the sharp turn evolution must have taken in order to go from flesh-and-blood dinosaurs to metal-and-fuel cars; creatures unable to function in any way without the millions-of-years-old anaerobically-decomposed remains of said dinosaurs.
At this point, the only nearly-satisfying explanation I can come up with is that these movies are actually thinly-veiled Creationist propaganda. There is nothing in all of science which could account for a world wherein man-made machines come into being without man. So Intelligent Design has to be the answer. Except in this case, God isn’t so much an all-knowing blaze of magnificent omnipotence as he is a six-year-old boy who just likes things that go “VROOM!”
…that, or the films are prophesying that someday in the not-too-distant future cars will attain sentience and slaughter us all, becoming the planet’s dominant life-form. Either way…what the hell, Pixar? What in the actual hell?