There have been a lot of differing opinions on Disney/Pixar’s latest film, Turning Red. Some parents feel that the movie teaches children to listen to their friends instead of their parents. On the other hand, some feel the film displays a messy philosophy. For example, the film opens with the main character, Melin, giving a monologue about how she can do what she wants because she’s 13. However, her life shows the opposite because her mother is a control freak and watches over everything she does. From that point, the audience is then set to cheer Mei on toward freedom from her mother to get her way and to be able to wear, say, and do whatever she so desires.

During the pandemic, America has been divided over the past two years between those who proclaim their freedom to wear what they want (i.e., not to wear masks) and those who believe that we should be responsible to our neighbors and wear masks. Yet people are rooting for Mei to have the opportunity to wear whatever she wants.

Unfortunately, this isn’t reality. We all must wear certain things in certain places: You cannot go shirtless on airplanes; you cannot teach public school with low-cut blouses or miniskirts; you cannot dress up as the murderer from Scream and preach from the pulpit. We have all had to learn to place restrictions on our autonomy to function well together in society.

The motivation for Mei’s freedom comes from an unexpected source: her inherited ability to transform into a red panda whenever she experiences strong emotion. From the perspective of the director, Domee Shi, who co-wrote the story with Julia Cho, the panda transformation symbolizes coming of age: “this experience of growing up, of suddenly waking up one day and realizing you grew a couple of feet, you’re covered in body hair, and you’re hungry all the time.”

Usually, when teenagers begin this process of metamorphosis or puberty, the adults in their lives teach them how to control their urges. However, Mei expresses her newfound sexual desires in the movie by fantasizing about half-naked boys with mermaid tails. By contrast, in a Christian sexual ethic, we submit our desires to God. Under a self-disciplined will, we wait and look forward to their fulfillment in the proper time and place.

The film ends with a call for viewers to do like Mei and free their beasts within. “People have all kinds of sides to them. And some sides are messy,” Mei reflects. “The point isn’t to push the bad stuff away. It’s to make room for it, live with it.”

We can pretend that children’s films don’t deal with philosophy, but these explicit claims in the movie are hard to ignore. Everyone has an inner mess, but the film should encourage self-control and social harmony. If parents want to show Mei as a model because she is an Asian girl hero coming into her own, despite her unbiblical projections, they should at least consider the costs and talk about her failings.