(REVIEW) “Soul” feels like listening to your favorite song, looking out the window of a plane as it flies above the city you’re about to land in, leaving a movie theater when it’s dark outside, sharing a meal with people you love and wrapping up in a blanket fresh from the dryer. It’s that fuzzy, soul-swelling sense of wonderment.

You know the one.  

It’s a movie, ultimately, that asks what the purpose of life is — and the answer may not be what you think.

“Soul” follows the format of some of my favorite Pixar movies — “Inside Out” and “Coco” specifically — in which the protagonist goes on a quest of recovery that turns into an introspective lesson and leads to the recovery of joy and closeness. There’s usually (always) some kind of magic involved. 

Joe is a middle school band teacher who wants nothing more than to be a jazz pianist. As you might assume, this premise also lends itself to a phenomenal jazz score by Jon Batiste. The soundtrack contains a range from blues to bebop, both full of uplifting chords and melodies that fit perfectly into the story.

As luck would have it, Joe gets a call from an old student who needs a pianist to fill in for jazz musician Dorothea Williams. It’s Joe’s dream come true. 

After a beautiful, expert improvisation and instruction to be back for the first show, Joe leaps from the venue and bounds excitedly down sidewalks and across busy streets, avoiding a row of banana peels and other obstacles completely unawares. He narrowly avoids getting hit by a moped — and instead takes a fatal fall down a manhole cover. His body near death, his soul is sent to the white, glowing past that leads to the Great Beyond. 

Joe is unwilling to accept his journey to the afterlife. He escapes, and the quest begins.  

It begins in the Great Before, where new souls are made and formed. It’s a chance for Pixar to show its prowess, as it regularly does, by creating worlds that are just beautiful to live in for a short while. A gradient of greens, blues and purples, the Great Before is populated with adorable pastel souls that make the place calming and pleasant. Outside of how meaningful the movie is, it’s genuinely gorgeous art. 

Here’s the kicker: for these souls to get to earth, they have to find their “spark.” He’s partnered with old new soul 22, who has existed in the Great Beyond for hundreds of years and who’s promised to give Joe her Earth Badge so he can return and 22 never has to leave.

But thanks to some (you guessed it) magic, the pair ends up on earth before that. Now in Joe’s body, 22 experiences New York pizza for the first time, has an existential talk with the barber, inspires Joe’s best student and lays down on a subway grate just to feel the warm wind rushing upward. 

“A guy on the subway yelled at me. It was scary. But I kind of liked that, too,” 22 says, as their adventure should come to an end. 

As it turns out, 22’s “spark” isn’t music or baking or cutting hair; it’s loving people and loving the earth. There’s a genuine joy and a fresh perspective there that’s easy to forget. I’ve lived in New York City for more than three years now, and I’ve often found myself feeling like the lifeless, grey people Joe and 22 encounter on the subway. The way 22 comes to see the world from a new perspective refreshed mine. 

Then, back in his own body, Joe makes it in time to perform a riveting gig with Dorothea Williams. His quest is complete, and he’s reached his dream. But he still finds himself empty. 

“So what happens next?” he asks Dorothea.

“We come back tomorrow night and do it all again,” she replies. 

It’s one of the big lessons in “Soul”: even chasing your passions to fulfillment isn’t enough, if chasing is all you’re doing. There’s monotony in the chase and there’s monotony in the dream. 

The way to avoid it? Living like 22 does. Finding joy in little moments and relishing in the joy of other people. 

And, as Joe says he’s going to do with the rest of his life, “I’m going to live every minute of it.”

It’s something that’s rightfully struck a chord with many viewers. According to a Gallup poll from earlier this year (but before the pandemic hit), 76% of employees experience burnout at work and 28% said they experience burnout “very often” or “always.” A CDC survey said that mental health issues, suicide ideation and substance abuse have increased since the pandemic began. 

Life is hard, no matter who you are or what you’re doing. And even these dreams we have, whether they be related to career or passion or anything else, are worth only a fleeting moment of happiness if they’re tied only to the moment. 

The tricky part is that “living every minute” is virtually (pun intended) impossible. After I finished “Soul,” I took a 10 minute break to think — and dry my tears — before sitting down at my computer to write down my thoughts. In that “break,” I went to a different room and ended up scrolling on social media, a mindless task that could’ve occupied much more than 10 minutes. By the time I returned, I’d already lost the feeling of “Soul,” and in the process, I lost its meaning. 

Being present every moment is so difficult, especially when we’re surrounded by things that make it easy to distance ourselves from reality. It’s no easier now that our work, school, Netflix-watching, Twitter-scrolling and shopping all take place on the same screen. It gets monotonous and difficult to appreciate anything, relegated to these mostly empty ways to cope with stress that are fun, sure, but not really fulfilling. 

If you choose to accept the challenge “Soul” presents and live every minute — which I hope to do — it takes intentionality. It takes reflection and constant reminders that we are called to something greater. 

It’s difficult for those of us who are used to intentional distraction. But the joy of music, fall leaves and the joy of other people make that challenge well worth the focus it takes. 

“Soul” is available to stream on Disney+.

Jillian Cheney is a Poynter-Koch fellow for Religion Unplugged who loves consuming good culture and writing about it. She also reports on American Protestantism and evangelical Christianity. You can find her on Twitter @_jilliancheney.