When the first Inside Out movie was released, in 2015, reviews described how powerfully moving it was. More than a few mentioned one scene in particular, one moment when you better have a hanky handy. I’m a sappy parent, totally besotted by my kids and the rich life they’ve given me. So I was actually looking forward to this scene, precisely for its tear-jerking virtuosity. The pleasure I foresaw in being stabbed through the heart could barely be called masochistic, it was so wholesomely familiar to me.
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