Up

Your reflection on Up is deeply moving, and you’ve captured the profound emotional layers of the story. It’s not just a film about dreams and adventures; it’s about the connections we make and the love we carry with us, even when life doesn’t go as planned.

The story of Carl and Ellie, particularly the montage of their life together at the beginning, is incredibly poignant. The way Pixar weaves love, loss, and the passage of time into such a short amount of screen time without dialogue is a testament to their mastery in storytelling. The simplicity of their shared moments, the way life unfolds with its small joys and disappointments, mirrors the real journey we all go through.

I also appreciate how you highlighted the theme of “牵绊” (kizuna), the bond that ties people together. The house, the adventures, and even the promise to go to Paradise Falls—they are all just symbols of something deeper: the love and memories that never truly leave us. The way Ellie and Carl’s bond transforms throughout the film—Ellie’s acceptance that the adventure is in the love they shared, and Carl’s realization that it was never about the house or the adventure, but the connection between them—is incredibly moving.

And your final thought resonates deeply too—how sometimes, we seek adventure and freedom in places, but the most profound adventures happen in our connections with others. When we find someone with whom we share a deep bond, that becomes the true adventure. It’s the quiet moments together that become the most precious.

This reflection truly captures the heart of Up and what makes it so emotionally powerful. Thank you for sharing such a thoughtful perspective!

(I) About Love: The Silver Zither Tune, The Incense of the Heart

Perhaps you will think of me, like thinking of a flower that never blooms again. — Sergei Yesenin

That house will never grow old. It stands at the edge of the waterfall, forever as a reminder of the beauty of memories and the touch of nature.

Pixar repeatedly paints with sound and color, depicting the sunset we gaze upon from afar and the morning yet to come. The first few minutes of the film had already made me cry; everything felt so simple, so precious. Carl and Ellie, forever together, their love blooming like flowers in full bloom, first meeting at dusk, gazing at each other without fatigue, how beautiful the world is.

Have you ever met a fearless little girl who boldly tells you, "I like you"? Have you ever met a round-faced little boy, who serves as your protector yet is obedient before you? Do you still remember when we were kids, the dream of flying was the most natural thing, and adventure was the chase from one yard to another?

Step by step, as we grow up, we always think that dreams can be realized, that we can travel from one place to another, thinking that we can fly, that travel is something as simple as carrying a backpack to explore the world. Although we don't know where we're going. We always think, "There's no rush, no rush, we still have time."

But we don't know when, maybe it’s just the moment when one glance overlaps with another. And we grow old. Youth has already passed, and the mundane life of daily chores makes us both plain and busy.

That empty diary used to hold so much of our youth, our joys, and our dreams. But one day, when we open it, all we find are yellowed pages and unfinished stories. Warm and slightly melancholic, it turns out that in life, similar moments are more common, and how many new things are there to experience?

When we become old, perhaps the world will be bigger and more prosperous. But it seems that it no longer has anything to do with us.

So many books, dark-toned movies, and muted music—they tell us to be smart and rational, that men can’t be trusted, women can’t be trusted either, love is like drinking poison with a smile, and marriage is a life devoid of feelings. Socializing, communities, campus life… comments are just adding friends; dating websites, some love for a while, others play until it’s over the top. Are we playing with love, or is love playing with us? In this way, who still believes in love?

Fortunately, there are these warm animations, which tell us that love always exists.

So, we still need to be kind, persist in our dreams, and be someone others like. We need to believe in love. Then, even if one day, we only have each other to lean on, we won’t feel lonely.

When our faces are full of wrinkles, will you still kiss me, just like when we first met?

Who wrote our dreams with childish handwriting, who warmed us while being sad, who quietly remembers us after we are gone?

I like you. I know that one day, I will meet a certain you.

“Clear and blue is the breath of the sky / I walk through the blooming forest / A traveler heading to the green horizon / You walk, but cannot see the wasteland / Clear and blue is the breath of the sky.”

(II) About Dream: Remembering, How Many Times Has It Come?

We bury the essence of our human nature beneath youth, those things we intentionally lock away in sweet memories, still lurking in our hearts as loneliness, confusion, and anxiety. As the tangible form of youth gradually fades, does life, too, become like the empty campus after school?

— Bai Yanxuan

Whether it’s the era of demolition and construction in the film, or today’s economy-centered development, all of it is for a better life for people. Yet, we still sigh, the city’s fleeting spring winds, full of longing but futile. We never waited for the flying house, but we got the "Green Dam." Its appearance is like Charles—Charles would stop at nothing to prove himself to the public, while the Green Dam is an almost hysterical pursuit of a purified internet.

The Book of Rites and The Doctrine of the Mean say: "All things grow together, and do not harm each other; the Way runs parallel, and does not conflict." Whether it is total harmony or the Green Dam, it is like "Twenty years ago, those students who died in the dark night." Every time I think of these media events, I feel heartbroken. Should we be a party that lacks the courage to admit mistakes and reflect, a nation too lazy to think independently?

In 1918, Mr. Cai Yuanpei wrote in the Peking University Monthly : “Our students have inherited the old customs of scholars and intellectuals. Though a few talented individuals know science is for its own sake, most people still see school as a path to the imperial examination. As long as they attend classes, pass exams, and earn a diploma, they seek nothing more; or they treat the school like an academy, vaguely following the teachings of one teacher while rejecting others.” Almost a century has passed. Except for a few top universities in China, has there been any significant change?

And today’s youth, where do their ideals and universal values stand?

“Dreams, it’s never too late to start realizing them.”

Since the day I turned 19, I started waking up at 5:35 a.m., opening the window, standing on the balcony, and taking a deep breath. I quietly tell myself: Sober me up. Please let me be clear-headed, let me be strong.

Now I have small, distant dreams, and I’m working hard towards them. Many times, when I see the words "B" University, I can’t help but shed tears.

I’m afraid the gap between dreams and reality is too vast. After all the hard work, will I just end up with a fleeting dream?

I’m afraid I’ll pour everything into it, yet still fail to capture anyone’s attention, leaving only the ink and paper from the books, tears before the desk.

I’m afraid I’ll lower myself to the dust, but still not become the flower it appreciates.

The heart is burdened with the leaves of the dogwood, who drips a few volumes of sorrow, looking back, the lights dimming in the distance.

From a humble corner, gazing far away, you cannot understand the sadness.

If it can be realized, when I am in a safe place, that will be the place where my heart is at ease. Today, everything will have been worth it.

If I end in defeat six months later, I will have to put away my own sorrow and grind it through the dust. I wonder if, at that time, I will still be able to feign strength, and what kind of life will it be?

When the flying house flies away, I hear the sound of balloons popping, I hear my childhood dreams, I hear the times that will never come back, I hear the flowers bloom, right in that instant.

Carl, beside Paradise Falls, opens the adventure journal that was once blank, and finds it covered with photos of him and Ellie. Maybe the time they spent together was the most precious adventure of their life. Perhaps from the moment she said "I like you," from the coins she saved for them, from the various ties she made for him, she no longer needed anything...

Even if freedom and democracy are still difficult to achieve, even if my small dream is still unknown and far away, life has this hazy, affectionate stroke, which makes the rhythm of life not tire from time’s gentle passing. Because I met some truly amazing people, I am willing to go through all the twists and turns.

“This is what should be done / According to my wish / On the days I look forward to / I will use my tragic gray and white / To contrast / With the newborn, lively red.”

(III) About Ending: The Flowers Have Gone, The Shadow of the Building Sinks Deep

I want you to know that there is always someone in this world who is waiting for you, no matter when, no matter where, you just know, there is always that person.

— Zhang Ailing

"Watching the flowing water take away the smoke on both shores / In the moment when fingers meet / Watching the sunlight piercing through the air / Between you and me, between heaven and earth / Who turns their head, hiding their face / Unwilling to watch a part of youth fade away."

In June, people come and go, the sunlight pours over the city, and the air is thick with the smell of graduation. Suddenly, I worry, will one day everything fade like a spring and autumn dream, waking up to find gray hair and a heart full of melancholy? Just like the film, in just ten minutes, it tells the story of two lives.

A person only understands death when they witness it with their own eyes; before that, they know nothing.

After Ellie’s death, Carl, full of sorrow, becomes a man obsessed with his memories. He cannot bear to part with the old house, the framed pictures, the mailbox by the fence... all those warm recollections.

Writing here, I thought of my grandmother, whose husband passed away less than a month ago. I miss her so very much.

I can’t continue writing. Maybe I really should go back and revise my elective paper, rather than spending half a day writing a movie review. I’m so afraid I won’t finish my own story, that my dreams won’t fit into reality. Well, this might be the last movie I seriously watch

before January, and the last review I write.

In animated films, the endings are always beautiful. The flying house with colorful balloons sways and gently lands next to the waterfall, standing there as a beautiful watercolor painting.

“The story ends like this.”

This is the sentence that made me cry several times this summer.

When the film gently closes its chapter, like the flowing past, time rushes on. It feels as though separated by oceans and mountains.

When the story ends, my heart cannot help but feel sorrow.

Yet, in our hearts, we always hold onto hope—tomorrow will bring new stories.

"Under the moonlight, the city, under the light, the people are waiting / In the crowd, the wind, the song, the sound of the years / Who doesn't unknowingly sigh, sighing over unknowingly aging / Who still listens to the beauty of the falling leaf, knowing autumn."

The lights dim, the screen lights up, and my left side is swallowed by darkness.

On the screen, a pair of childhood sweethearts grow old together: they build a small log cabin called "home," run a tiny balloon business, save money for their dream trip, and repeatedly smash the jar that holds their dreams when facing inevitable hardships—yet they always smile and never let go of each other's hands. With a loved one by your side and dreams to chase, happiness has always been simple. And so, tears blur my vision.

You once said I'm a contradictory person: a perfectionist obsessed with details, holding onto trivialities, and stuck in overthinking—and you were right. In this moment, all I can think is that you'd never save for dreams with me coin by coin, nor would you smash that jar for life's sake without hesitation. No matter how I ask, you won't do it because you can't understand the joy a jar of coins brings. You don't see that it's not about the money—it's about the act of saving together, dropping coins into the jar and watching it fill, where happiness overflows even when breaking it open, because the fragments still spill out as joy. You lack those lovely little whims, while I long for such happiness, even if it's just a formality. This is why we argue daily, why we're unhappy, and the root of our conflict. We're such different people—even facing the same direction, we see landscapes in different dimensions. How could we share the same dreams?

So I can't grow old with you like Ellie did with Carl, even though I love you. We must part to chase our own dreams. But I still feel sad—like now, watching others love, stay together, and find happiness in trivialities. Maybe I'm just sad that I can't grow old with you? Sad that this formality can't be realized, not because I'm losing you. After all, you know I'm a perfectionist.

But doesn't love, in the end, become just a formality?

Even if they never traveled hand-in-hand, they were happy growing old in love. Until she was too old to stay by his side. Then he changed—lonely, stubborn, irritable, unapproachable—becoming the cliché unhappy old eccentric from movies and novels. He wipes old furniture and knick-knacks by habit, does everything in a routine. Life becomes a habit, and love for her turns into a formality. He stubbornly defends their cabin and insists on fulfilling their shared dream. The day this grumpy old man lifts off with his house carried by ten thousand balloons, what soars isn't love itself—it's just its shell, a formality. "Taking the house to Paradise Falls" becomes a symbol. No matter what, as long as he does it, he forgets what the symbol represents. His heart no longer remembers what happiness feels like.

Thankfully, the story doesn't end there. That's why there's the boy and the chaos he brings. When the old man unhesitatingly abandons the furniture they built together and discards the physical relics she left, his happiness returns. He rediscovers love, connection, companionship, care, help, and the ability to love others. As he fights on the airship, what drifts away isn't the cabin—it's loneliness (oops). Even though the cabin is gone and the form of love is dismantled, love itself remains.

The screen dims, the lights come up, and my left side has no you. But so what?

When a Movie Even Makes Me Feel Clichéd

If Finding Nemo remained your undisputed favorite animated film for five years until Wall-E came along; if you’d memorized its lines so thoroughly they made you nauseous, yet still got misty-eyed every time you saw the world’s animals gossiping about a clownfish crossing an entire ocean to find his son—you’d also think, This is too familiar .

Let me be blunt: In my eyes, Carl and Russell are just another version of Marlin and Dory. They meet without reason, "race" through a jellyfish swarm, follow the North Atlantic Current to Sydney, befriend whales and sharks, and even abandon each other—only to reconnect because of a sudden act of bravery.

In Finding Nemo , Marlin loses his mate, leaving only one injured egg. He swears to keep Nemo safe forever. A fish can’t cross its chest, but it doesn’t need to.

And that look in Russell’s eyes when he’s tied up in the airship and hears Carl is coming? It instantly reminds me of Nemo turning away dejectedly when Gill says his dad has come to rescue him: That can’t be my dad. He’s afraid of the ocean.

See?

But did you notice the shiny 5-star rating up there? I actually don’t mind if the story is more clichéd. Like when the photo frame smashes to the ground—what if Carl rummages through the rubble, gets glass shards in Ellie’s smiling face, and trembles as he smooths the photo into his My Adventure Book ? Okay, stop, I know I’m being sickly sweet.

I’m actually trying to say this story keeps reminding me of my childhood. The part in Up where young Ellie pretends her house is a plane makes me think of Snoopy, who truly believed he was the Pink Baron piloting his red doghouse. In primary school, I pestered my dad until he bought me the Snoopy: Golden 50th Anniversary book during a sale. Eight years later, from primary school to university, I finally read The Great Gatsby , which Snoopy constantly references. I thought I’d have an epiphany ( So that’s what Snoopy was talking about! ), but by the end, I’d forgotten all the comic’s jokes. Not a single one.

We think we have extraordinary memories of childhood, but in reality, only a trivial book title remains in our hearts. (Try recalling plots of cartoons you thought you remembered deeply.) Or maybe our self-understanding is no more than labels like "Gemini" or "Type A blood." We’ve left our true selves behind at birthday parties and coming-of-age ceremonies.

That’s why I vividly remember the disappointment I felt two weeks ago when I closed The Great Gatsby .

As you know, it’s the boring little things that stick with us.

What touches me most about this movie is seeing the white-haired old man use thousands of colorful balloons for an adventure to see the world he dreamed of as a child.

I’ve met football fans who followed Manchester City to Shanghai and Hull City to Beijing for dull friendly matches, and Apple fanatics who fly worldwide for store openings. They come from across time zones, carry huge backpacks, and hate Beijing and Shanghai summers, yet they wear thick scarves and sing loudly. An empty stadium’s small stand becomes a lively party. Believe me—if the team trained on Mars, they’d go without hesitation.

So when the black tarp rips and thousands of colorful balloons lift into the sky, I’m more moved than when I saw balloons with notes at my school’s coming-of-age ceremony.

You’ve always known: Drop a suitcase, and you can fly. Right?

Why did I pick such a mindless title? Because from last night after watching the movie to this morning, I’ve been in a strange state—nervous and inexplicably down. I didn’t understand why until this morning, walking a quiet path, my headphones shuffled to Neil Young’s Only Love Can Break Your Heart . Then it all clicked.

I have a friend I’ve never seen
He hides his head inside a dream

Get it? Carl doesn’t actually care what his childhood superhero looks like today. Sickly sweet as it sounds, when we think we’re striving for an ideal or just hope it will come to us, years later, when we finally stand beside it, we don’t realize we’ve forgotten the stupid reason that started it all.

But consider this: If you hadn’t listened to that wacky pilot’s heroic deeds as a kid, you’d never have wanted to fly, never met Ellie, never lost a blue balloon or found it again, never owned a silly bottle-cap badge. Of course, you’d have no story of losing Ellie or a "superhero" trying to kill you—because there is no superhero. And young Russell might help a crafty old lady cross the street or weed her garden, earning a neat, ordinary badge like everyone else.

But meeting Ellie was still the best thing in life, right?

You know, you can keep everything the same—except that one day, you’ll grow old. You’ll become stubborn, more stubborn. You’ll ridiculously fixate on one thing, blind to everything else. You’ll no longer hesitate to say "no," knowing exactly what you want, not caring that it’s rooted in a childhood story. That story remains distant yet firm decades later.

Coz only love can break your heart.

You’ll flip through books and ticket stubs, stare at an empty room as if seeing time itself. You’ll risk everything for a mailbox, polish a photo frame for the ten-thousandth time, and slowly straighten a rough, ancient wood carving (not out of nausea, just because you can’t move fast anymore).

To your left is a sofa that never collects dust. For a year, a decade, a century, it watches a shabby house get painted and fade, sees cities and cliffs. But its only place is to the left of that red sofa.

You know, no matter what happens, some things you ignore never change. The careful maintenance is a ritual for yourself, because you don’t need to worry—they’re always here. Like how you never doubt she will always be here.

And "thank you for the adventure with me".

A work, no matter its length or content, is a good work as long as it moves the viewer.

A dream, no matter how big or small, no matter how realistic, is most important when you continue to believe in it and persist.

A love, no matter the outcome or the nostalgia, is happiness as long as you both grow old together, side by side.

A film that, if possible, I would give ten stars.

A film with only a few strokes, yet so warm, romantic, and touching in expressing love and dreams.

A film that, in a theater filled to capacity, makes you feel the quiet moments of breathing, the exhilaration of freedom, and the lingering nostalgia when the film ends.

A film so good, like the most delicious dish, it’s impossible to fully express how wonderful it is.

I can only savor it slowly, telling the story bit by bit.

As for why it’s called "Up," I think it may be a form of positive energy, a kind of courage to move forward.

Spoilers ahead, proceed with caution!

The afternoon was spent in the south, from 2 p.m. until 9:30 p.m. I thought I had already secured my movie ticket for the 10 p.m. show, but when I got to the theater, there was a line of over a hundred people waiting to enter the "Up" screening.

After some clever maneuvering by Yuanbao and LM brothers, we managed to secure seats for all seven of us together. When the trailers ended, the 3D effects were so stunning that we finally understood that the pond in front of the Disney logo could shimmer.

The scene unfolded: a beautiful peach-colored dawn, cranes soaring through the air, sending gifts from the angels to the earth, small dogs, cats, and other little creatures. One of the cranes, however, was working particularly hard. The angels had created dangerous little creatures like crocodiles and hedgehogs, and after each mission, the crane was exhausted, only to be met with a new challenge. Eventually, it reached another cloud of angels, only to find that the task ahead was to face an electric fish.

We were so mesmerized by this warm-up story, laughing and filled with joy, when we realized that this delicate tale was merely the introduction to the actual film. As the saying goes: "I am not modest, I only say I am not a master, and you will see: this is just a little model, the true masterpiece has not yet arrived."

The film began with scenes from decades ago. A young boy, deeply admiring an explorer, ventures into a rundown house and meets a little girl who shares his passion for adventure. Together, they dream of going to Paradise Falls in South America, and she introduces him to her "My Adventure Book."

The two childhood friends grow up and promise to spend their lives together. They turn their adventure house into a love-filled home, and each day spent together is sweet and full of joy. However, life is not perfect, and despite their best efforts, they cannot have children, so they cherish each other even more. The two chairs are pushed close together, and no matter whether they read books or watch the clouds, holding hands is all that matters.

Every day, she helps him tie his tie. The camera cuts to show how the ties change, and the days slip by like water. He buys balloons at the zoo, while she trains beautiful South American birds.

One day, she falls ill, and he buys two tickets to South America. But it turns out to be a journey they can never take together.

When the camera shows the old woman in the hospital, with the old man holding her hand, the entire cinema is quiet, and you can hear the collective breath of the audience. Then the old man is seen sitting alone in a church full of flowers. This scene brought tears to many eyes.

In just a few minutes, this simple story of a couple's life is beautifully told, and it’s the perfect opening to the film.

The old man, wanting to hold on to the home they built together, refuses to give in to the large-scale demolition project. He locks himself away in his room and has no interest in the young boy who is trying to win a medal by helping the old man.

After an argument with the construction team, the old man faces the difficult choice of moving to a nursing home. He decides to use thousands of balloons to lift the house off the ground, and the house soars into the sky.

The colorful balloons, floating like the most dreamlike and desired dreams in all of us, fly past the windows, over rooftops, and into the distance.

Then the lovable little boy appears outside the house, and together, they fly to South America.

The old man's destination is clear — Paradise Falls, the dream they had been chasing for so long. He holds the drawing his wife made many years ago and soars through the sky.

On the way, they encounter colorful birds, a talking dog, and even the old man's childhood idol, the explorer.

The explorer had spent his life searching for a large bird after his hypothesis about its skeletal structure was disproven. He hoped that by reconstructing its skeleton, he could gain recognition from the academic world.

The old man and the boy confront the explorer and his dog team, and when the explorer tries to burn the old man's house down, they distract him, and the bird is captured.

The boy, upset, sets off on his own. The old man returns to his room and opens the "My Adventure Book" that had been with them for so many years. He casually flips through it and discovers that it is full of pictures, from their wedding day to moments spent on the porch, sharing sunsets and holding each other by the window. Finally, on the last page, there is a photo of the old woman sitting alone in the living room. On the corner of the page, she wrote:

"Thank you for the adventure with me. This is over, and now start your new adventure. Love, Ellie."

At this moment, tears quietly fall, without hiding them.

We have seen so many grand love stories, spoken countless vows, but when asked about love, we hesitate to believe. When asked about the future, we hesitate to promise.

Love always faces many difficulties, because even without love, life’s struggles will still come. But love gives us a reason to keep going, a reason to share the burden.

This belief teaches us to begin with love, to learn about family, friendship, and life.

Thus, the old man embarks on a new journey without hesitation. He saves the big bird, overcomes the challenges, and leaves their beautiful home forever by the waterfall, bringing the boy back home.

The boy receives the long-awaited medal and the lifetime adventure. The old man fulfills his and his wife’s dream of adventure and learns to start a new journey.

As the film ends, no one wants to leave. We watch the credits roll, and the theater lights slowly come up.

Yuanbao says he cried. Xiaofei says it was great. Everyone agrees that next year, "Up" should dominate the Oscars for Best Animated Feature. It should be more than that — Best Original Screenplay and Best Music should definitely be nominated too.

The plot is tight and reasonable, the dialogue is witty and interesting, and it keeps the audience emotionally engaged throughout.

A movie, a story, a book, a love, a life. Each person sees something different, and each person experiences it differently.

What is happiness? What is a dream? What is joy? How do we let go? How do we pursue? How do we give up?

These are the lessons of a lifetime. As long as you persist in doing it happily, your dream has already been achieved.

May 30, 2009 — cy, after watching the midnight screening.