It is rare to see a kids' movie tackle the finality of death without flinching. But Pixar’s Coco isn't really a movie about dying. Not exactly. If you are wondering what is the movie coco about, it is basically a vibrant, orange-hued exploration of memory and the terrifying possibility of being forgotten. It is about a 12-year-old boy named Miguel Rivera who lives in the fictional Mexican town of Santa Cecilia, where his family has a generations-long ban on music.
Why? Because his great-great-grandfather supposedly abandoned his wife, Imelda, and their daughter, Coco, to pursue a career as a musician.
Honestly, the setup feels like a classic "follow your dreams" trope. Miguel loves music. He worships the late Ernesto de la Cruz, a charismatic movie star and singer who died in a freak accident involving a giant bell. But the film quickly pivots into something much deeper than a simple talent show plot. On Día de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead), Miguel tries to "borrow" De la Cruz’s guitar from his tomb to enter a contest. This act of theft from the dead on their sacred day curses him, pulling him physically into the Land of the Dead. He’s stuck. He’s turning into a skeleton.
To get back, he needs a blessing from a family member. But there’s a catch: his ancestors will only send him back if he promises never to play music again.
The Land of the Dead and the Mechanics of Memory
The world-building in Coco is phenomenal. Director Lee Unkrich and co-director Adrian Molina spent years researching Mexican traditions, and it shows in the details. The Land of the Dead is a vertical metropolis of glowing towers, marigold bridges, and alebrijes (fantastical spirit guides).
But the most important rule of this world is the "Final Death."
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In the movie, the deceased can only visit the Land of the Living if their photo is placed on an ofrenda (an altar). If no one living remembers you, and no one puts your picture up, you disappear from the Land of the Dead forever. This is where we meet Héctor. He’s a scruffy, desperate soul who is on the verge of fading away because his daughter is the only person left who remembers him, and her memory is failing.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Villain
A lot of viewers focus on the "twist" involving Ernesto de la Cruz. Spoilers ahead, but the movie came out in 2017, so you’ve probably heard: Ernesto isn't the hero Miguel thought he was. He actually murdered his songwriting partner—who turns out to be the real Héctor—and stole his songs to become famous.
But the movie isn't just about a murder mystery.
It’s about the ethics of legacy. Ernesto represents the toxic side of "seizing your moment." He was willing to destroy his family and literally kill his best friend to be remembered by strangers. Miguel, throughout the film, has to decide if his individual passion is worth the cost of his family's connection. It’s a nuanced take on the American "follow your heart" narrative versus the more communal, family-centric values of Mexican culture.
The Cultural Heart: Día de los Muertos
To understand what is the movie coco about, you have to understand the holiday it portrays. This isn't "Mexican Halloween." It’s a celebration of life through the lens of ancestry. The film treats the ofrenda as a living bridge.
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The research team, including cultural consultants like Lalo Alcaraz and Marcela Davison Avilés, made sure the Rivera household felt authentic. From the chancla (the flying sandal) wielded by Abuelita to the specific way the marigold petals are laid out to guide spirits home, the movie avoids the "tourist" gaze. It feels lived-in.
Miguel’s Great-Grandmother, Coco, is the silent anchor of the film. She doesn't say much. She sits in her chair, lost in the fog of age. Yet, the entire plot hinges on her. She is the last living link to the "forgotten" generation. If she forgets her father, he ceases to exist.
Key Elements That Define the Film
- The Music: Unlike a typical Disney musical where characters burst into song to express feelings, most of the music in Coco happens diegetically. People sing because they are musicians performing. "Remember Me" is the exception—it changes meaning every time it’s sung, moving from a boastful stadium anthem to a quiet, heartbreaking lullaby.
- The Alebrijes: These are based on the folk art created by Pedro Linares. In the movie, they serve as colorful, neon-bright spirit animals, contrasting with the more grounded, earthy tones of the Land of the Living.
- Dante: Miguel’s Xoloitzcuintli dog. Xolos are a real Mexican breed known for being "hairless" and were historically believed to guard the dead on their journey to the underworld.
Why the Ending Makes Everyone Cry
The climax of Coco isn't a big fight. It’s a song.
Miguel returns to the Land of the Living and races to his Great-Grandmother. He plays "Remember Me" for her, hoping to spark a memory before she passes away. It works. Coco begins to sing along, remembering her father, Héctor. This act saves Héctor’s spirit and heals the rift in the Rivera family.
It’s heavy stuff for a PG movie.
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The film suggests that our ancestors aren't just names on a genealogy chart; they are parts of us. When Miguel sings to Coco, he isn't just "following his dream"—he’s using his gift to serve his family. It’s a beautiful synthesis of his personal identity and his heritage.
How to Apply the Lessons of Coco to Real Life
You don't have to be a musician or Mexican to take something away from this story. The movie challenges us to look at how we treat our elderly and how we preserve our own family histories.
- Talk to your elders now. Like Miguel, we often don't realize the stories our grandparents carry until those stories are at risk of being lost. Ask about the "black sheep" of the family. There’s usually a reason they were cast out, and it might not be the story you were told.
- Create a space for memory. You don't need a formal ofrenda, but keeping photos and stories of those who passed away keeps their influence alive. Digital archives are great, but physical mementos have a different weight.
- Audit your "Legacy" goals. Are you trying to be "famous" like Ernesto, or "remembered" like Héctor? There is a massive difference between being known by millions and being loved by those who truly knew you.
Ultimately, Coco is a reminder that we are the sum of those who came before us. It’s a film about the power of a song to bridge the gap between this world and whatever comes next. If you haven't watched it recently, do it with a box of tissues nearby. You’ll need them.
To get the most out of the film's themes, consider looking into your own family tree or starting a small tradition of sharing stories about deceased relatives during family dinners. Understanding your roots is the first step toward growing your own branches.