Pixar’s Inside Out 2 is a worthy successor to its brilliant predecessor. It expands Riley’s inner world with fresh emotions like Anxiety, Envy, and Embarrassment, and once again balances humor, heart, and psychology with an ease few studios can match. For much of its runtime, the film sparkles — insightful, funny, and often deeply moving. But when it reaches its conclusion, the storytelling falters. Instead of delivering an open ending that leaves the audience holding their breath, it pours a pitcher of cool water over the tension.
The Flat Ending
The setup is perfect: Riley waits for news about whether she’ll make the hockey team. This is the kind of small-yet-huge moment adolescence is built on — the stakes feel enormous, even if the world at large won’t notice. Yet instead of letting the suspense land, the film undermines itself. Joy reassures Anxiety with a “you can rest now” moment, as if to appease the audience that Riley will be fine regardless. The fellow hockey players also soften the scene with a clumsy line: “If you don’t make it this year, there’s always next year.” That may have been intended as comfort, but it doesn’t ring true to teenage voices, nor does it heighten the stakes. It dilutes them.
The Charged Alternative
Imagine a different approach. Riley opens her email, the entire control room goes tense. Every emotion is at the ready behind the switchboard.
- Joy is hopeful, leaning forward.
- Sadness is steady, prepared to help Riley accept the outcome.
- Anxiety is taut but not dismissed — her vigilance has value here.
- Fear hides under the console, bracing for disaster.
- Embarrassment shifts uncomfortably, dreading either outcome.
No speeches. No reassurances. Just a lineup of emotions in their raw readiness, mirroring the weight of Riley’s moment. We cut back to Riley’s face as she reacts — but the list itself remains unseen. The screen fades.
Why It Matters
That alternative doesn’t change the ambiguity — we still never find out if Riley made the team — but it transforms it from a flat anticlimax into an electric moment. Instead of being told “it doesn’t matter,” we would feel the truth: Riley’s life is no longer about simple wins or losses. It’s about holding space for uncertainty, for joy and fear and sadness all at once. And that’s what makes Inside Out so brilliant when it’s firing on all cylinders.
Ambiguity works best not when it soothes us, but when it leaves us buzzing with possibility.
Thanks,
Ira