Flannery O'Connor once said, "I am interested in making a good case for distortion, as I am coming to believe that it is the only way to make people see."
Distorting something to make people truly "see" it seems to be counter-intuitive, though one could argue that all literature distorts information in order to make the point clear. From exaggeration to understatement to stock characters, metaphors, and cliched endings, literature must make the truth plain to see. Often that can only come from - in Flannery O'Connor's word - distortion. How often have we encountered characters who only truly exemplify a trait or an idea because the trait is so glaringly obvious? How often have we told "some stretchers," as Huck claims Mr. Mark Twain did, in order to impact an audience and help them "see" what we mean? Distortion - or hyperbole - is a natural part of our language and our thinking.
This concept of distortion is particularly interesting because the word has a negative connotation. Certainly, to exaggerate a detail is in some ways deceptive. It might even be dishonest. But if we shift from the concept of "distorting" and instead focus on simply emphasizing, then the act seems almost necessary. Artist John Kascht, whose caricatures of many iconic figures have become iconic themselves, explains that he is not distorting the figures he draws but instead magnifying their traits. Kascht's works have been featured in the Smithsonian, and his video explanation of his craft as he draws Conan O'Brien is fascinating in its analysis of the concept of artistic distortion - or magnification, emphasis, exaggeration, etc.
This concept of somehow emphasizing beyond the reality is integral to our understanding of art. And whether it's the writing of Flannery O'Connor or the art of John Kascht or the entire genre of Romanticism, discussion of "distortion" is a necessary tool in the English classroom.
In other words, the movie begins where most parents begin: We tend to treat dark feelings as unwelcome intruders into the idyllic childhoods we had in mind for our children. At the extreme, we can act as emotional offensive linemen, throwing our bodies in front of anything that may knock our children down and equating a happy childhood with the absence of distress. Pixar doesn’t buy it. And neither should we. Though Fear carries on like a neurotic mess, he’s rightly charged with keeping Riley safe. Anger seethes throughout the movie and often loses control by pushing the levers at the mental command deck to full throttle. But Riley’s success as a hockey player is credited to the healthy aggression that zips her around the ice. While avoiding spoiler territory, I can tell you that Sadness more than holds her own. “Inside Out” doesn’t just stick up for dark feelings, it also recognizes that growing up comes with evolving emotional complexity. We meet Riley as a baby, when her rudimentary mental apparatus delivers emotions that are straightforward and pure. We really get to know her as a preteen when Joy loses control of the command deck and gets lost, along with Sadness, in the now-complex recesses of Riley’s mind, while back at headquarters, Anger, Disgust and Fear jockey for position.