Character Analysis
Riley's a trooper. Sure, she ends up lashing out at her parents, and then she runs away, but hear us out on this one. Her parents expect her to put up with a lot and still be their happy little girl. Plus, she only runs away for, like, a mile before she turns around and comes home.
The (Increasingly Complicated) Life of Riley
Here's a quick rundown of everything Riley's suddenly supposed to be cool with:
- Living in a new town, two thousand miles away, in a completely differently climate
- A musty old house with no furniture
- All her stuff arriving on the 32nd of Never
- Leaving her BFF Meg
- Quitting her hockey team
- Abandoning her hockey teammates
- Listening to her "BFF" Meg rave about the chick who took her spot on the team
- Going to a new school
- Being branded "the new kid" 'til at least Christmas
- Dad being stressed out about work a lot
- Broccoli pizza
- The complete absence of frozen lakes
Forget running away to Minnesota. If we were Riley, we'd grab Mom's credit card and book a flight to Maui. We'd also buy a whole new wardrobe, a surfboard, a dog named Ocean Spray, and a crate of pepperoni. Because we earned it.
All right, maybe we're exaggerating. Maybe Riley gets a bit dramatic as she reacts to all the changes being chucked her way, too, but when you're a pre-teen, those little changes to your routine and sense of security have a way of quickly adding up to big frustration.
As an 11-year-old kid, Riley doesn't yet have the emotional smarts to respond to a barrage of changes in the healthiest of ways. Thus far, her life's basically been all about fun and irresponsibility. Experiences were so simple that they were color-coded in her brain. Good times: gold. Bad times: blue. That's why when she video chats with Meg, she acts like a jerk. Check it out:
MEG: Do you like it there? Did you feel any earthquakes? Is the bridge cool?
RILEY: Yeah, it's good. What happened with the playoffs?
MEG: We won the first game. Coach says we might actually go to the finals this year. Oh, and we've got this new girl on the team. She's so cool.
DISGUST: Uh, she did not just say that.
FEAR: A new girl?! Meg has a new friend already?!
DISGUST: Hey, hey! Stay happy. We do not want to lose any more islands here, guys!
MEG: We can pass the puck to each other without even looking. It's like mind reading!
ANGER: You like to read minds, Meg? I got something for you to read, right here!
FEAR: Let's just be calm for one second!Anger shoves Fear out of the frame and blows his top.
MEG: I heard they have parrots—
RILEY: I've got to go.
Fear and Anger take control and Riley hangs up on her friend who's stoked about the (we assume) Golden Gate Bridge—which is awesome, btw. Riley's reaction is childish because, well, she's a child. And what could be harder than moving far away from your best friend? Learning she hasn't missed a beat in making new friends, that's what.
Riley faces new, more complex challenges like fitting in at school, proving her value on the ice all over again, and not letting Mom and Dad know that she desperately wants to go home—to Minnesota, not to their smelly and unintentionally minimalist new house.
Her emotions get more complicated accordingly. There's that jealousy that Fear and Anger teamed up to produce on her video call with Meg. She starts feeling nostalgia, or the combination of joy and sadness, for her old life in Minnesota, too. Two emotions at once? Looks like our little girl is growing up.
Growing Pains
In Inside Out, Riley's essentially the setting as much as she is a supporting character. Once Joy, Sadness, and the rest of the gang complete their journey, we see an older and wiser Riley return home to her parents. She's a Riley who's mature enough to level with them about not loving San Francisco, for example:
RILEY: I know you don't want me to, but I miss home. I miss Minnesota. You need me to be happy, but I want my old friends, and my hockey team. I want to go home. Please don't be mad.
MOM: Sweetie.
DAD: We're not mad. You know what? I miss Minnesota, too. I miss the woods where we took hikes.
MOM: And the backyard where you used to play.
DAD: Spring Lake, where you learned to skate. Come here.
After Riley's confession, Dad scoops her up into a big hug and lets her cry. He's not mad at her and neither is Mom. In fact, they can empathize with Riley's situation because that's what adults do—or at least the good ones, anyway. They work through intricate emotions like empathy, and they know there's no shame in your game if you ask for help sometimes.
By cracking open the lines of communication and discussing what's bothering her, Riley's moved one step closer to adulthood herself. Before she knows it, she'll be wearing flowered capris, driving a Volvo, and complaining about property taxes.
Riley's Timeline