Damn you, Pixar.

I know I’m not alone in my adoration of Pixar films and their downright criminal ability to tell a heartwarming story.

I recently saw their latest release, Elemental, with a good friend along with hoards of families and their band of mini movie-goers. Giggles and gasps in between handfuls of popcorn, there was a sweet anticipation in the theater as we all braced ourselves for the short we knew would precede the film.

I’m not here to spoil anything, but five minutes in, there were tears. The main film only brings on more, so proceed with caution and tissues.

Decades of Pixar productions have taught us to expect an enjoyable journey of lovable characters with their worlds depicted in vibrant colors, surrounded by the whimsy and warmth of a Randy Newman score. And this film was no different.

However, when I saw Elemental, I was newly taken aback by just how many intricate layers Pixar crafts into their stories.

Pixar has storytelling down to such a science that no matter the details of the movie, there’s always something universally human embedded in them, striking a chord we can all feel. They’ve mastered the art of identifying the strings tying back to our shared, natural experiences of love, loss, purpose, friendship, and the need for acceptance, and they artfully pull on those strings through the stories they tell.

Think about the scene in Finding Nemo when Nigel, the pelican, catches wind (no pun intended) that Marlin is trekking across the whole ocean in search of his son. As Nigel tells Nemo about all the obstacles his phobia-prone, helicopter-parenting dad is undertaking to find him, you see Nemo’s eyes widen and the music swells and you can’t help but feel the pull on that emotional string: the feeling of being fought for. Regardless of whether or not you have firsthand experience of it, I think we can all agree—someone believing you’re worthy enough to face their fears for is an expression of love we all long to know.

I can’t tell you the last time I saw this movie, but I can tell you in detail the way this one scene makes me feel. That’s the magic of movies and the power of Pixar as it bypasses the fact that in reality, this is a kid’s movie about a fish, yet it somehow touches on something deeply human.

In the same way, consider one of the overarching themes in most of the Toy Story films: the emotional neglect of discarded and abandoned toys. This experience of abandonment challenged some of the toys to rethink and redefine their purpose while that same neglect turned others into villains. In essence, Pixar communicates to children and adults alike that the outcome of your life is ultimately determined by how you let your circumstances shape you and not the reality of the circumstances themselves.

In Toy Story 4, I remember being impressed by how the writers trusted their young audience to follow the character arc of the villain, Gabby Gabby. From the get-go, she’s depicted as this chilling, soft-spoken doll whose persona and creepy stroller give nod to the classic horror film, Rosemary’s Baby, so you know immediately that she’s the “bad guy.” As the movie progresses, Gabby Gabby carries out a plot to steal Woody’s voice box to replace her own in an attempt to catch the attention of a little girl and secure a new home. But when the plan fails, we see Woody and Forky empathize with her need for companionship even though it drove her to directly harming them. And while her tragic backstory doesn’t justify her actions, Woody and Forky choose mercy over vindication and empathy over judgement. They decide to help her.

When the villain is so often dehumanized by the end of a children’s film—they fall into a pit of doom, they’re destroyed by the chaos of their own actions, the hero swoops in and takes them down—I found it incredibly refreshing for Pixar to redeem this character and offer her a happy ending of her own. In this, they remind us that even in the stories when we’re the villain—either the villain to ourselves or others—that the pain that’s driving our negative actions can be healed, our unmet needs can be fulfilled, and our bad behavior doesn’t disqualify us from compassion.

Go see Elemental. It’s stunning and lovely and if you end up watching it in a theater full of kiddos, get ready for claps of tiny hands, uncomfortable giggles when characters kiss, and ooh’s and ahh’s that will remind you of just how moving and magical movies can be.