Finding Nemo (2003)

There's a moment early in Finding Nemo that I think about more than I probably should. It's quiet, brutal, and over in seconds, and it sets up everything that follows with a kind of emotional precision that most live-action dramas would kill for. Pixar have always known how to land a gut punch, but this one hits different. It doesn't feel like a device. It feels like grief.

What unfolds from that point is, on the surface, a simple story: a father crosses an ocean to find his missing son. But the ocean itself becomes a character, vast and indifferent and gorgeous, and the film populates it with enough warmth and strangeness that you never want to leave. The animation still holds up beautifully, which is saying something at this point. Sunlight scattering through deep water, the slow pulse of a jellyfish bloom, the dizzying colour and noise of a coral reef. Every frame feels considered. There's texture to it, a sense that somewhere just off screen the world keeps going without you.

The real engine of the film, though, is the odd-couple dynamic between Marlin and Dory. Marlin is anxiety given fins, a fish so hollowed out by loss that he's built his entire life around fear. Dory, with her short-term memory loss, should by rights be nothing more than comic relief. Instead she's played with a generosity that catches you off guard. The laughs are real, but so is the loneliness underneath them. The two of them together are genuinely moving, and the film earns every emotional beat they share without ever hammering you over the head with it.

The supporting cast are more than window dressing, too. The tank crew at the dentist's office, the surfer turtles riding the current, the sharks trying their best to be vegetarians. These could easily have been one-note gags, but there's enough personality in each of them that the world feels lived-in rather than constructed. That's harder to pull off than it looks.

I won't pretend it's flawless. A couple of the side characters tip a little too far into caricature, and there are moments where the plot leans on coincidence just a touch more than it should. It swims just shy of Pixar's absolute peak for me, but I'm not sure that matters much when the emotional core is this solid. The film understands fear, and it understands the particular pain of loving someone enough to let them go. It wears that understanding lightly, which is exactly right for a film that also needs to work for a seven-year-old on a Saturday afternoon.

I caught Finding Dory (2016) when it came out, and while there's real affection for it, this is the one that lingers. Finding Nemo gets the balance right in a way that's genuinely difficult to replicate. It's funny, it's frightening in the right measure, and it's properly sad when it needs to be. One of Pixar's most enduring achievements, and I don't think that's going to change any time soon.

Four stars.

Rating: ★★★★  | Year: 2003  | Watched: 2025-07-24

View on Letterboxd →

Where to watch

Watch in the UK
Stream: Disney Plus
Rent: Apple TV Store · Rakuten TV · Sky Store
Buy: Apple TV Store · Rakuten TV · Amazon Video · Google Play Movies
Physical: Amazon UK · Zavvi

Watch in the US
Stream: Hulu · Disney Plus
Rent: Amazon Video · Apple TV Store · Google Play Movies · YouTube
Buy: Amazon Video · Apple TV Store · Google Play Movies · YouTube
Physical: Amazon US

Affiliate disclosure: Movies With Macca may earn a small commission on purchases or subscriptions started via these links. It costs you nothing extra.

Related on Movies With Macca

More from Andrew Stanton: Finding Dory (2016) · WALL·E (2008)
More with Albert Brooks: Finding Dory (2016)
More from the 2000s: Kirikou and the Wild Beasts (2005) · Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004) · Daredevil (2003) · Apocalypto (2006)
More animation: Fantastic Planet (1973) · Alice in Wonderland (1951) · Mononoke the Movie: The Phantom in the Rain (2024) · Mononoke the Movie: Chapter II - The Ashes of Rage (2025)
More family: Alice in Wonderland (1951) · Wonder (2017) · Kirikou and the Wild Beasts (2005) · Anastasia (1997)