The definitive list of Pixar's 10 best movies

Since 1995's Toy Story, Pixar has been synonymous with excellence in animation. Its latest effort, Coco, is no different — drawing strong reviews from critics (and a B+ from EW). But which of the studio's 19 releases are the very best? Ahead, EW critics Chris Nashawaty, Leah Greenblatt, and Darren Franich rank the 10 greatest Pixar movies.

Consider us members of the club that thinks Up peaks in the first five minutes. But what a peak, what minutes! The tale of a lifetime of love and dreams deferred is the height of visual storytelling, telling the whole wonderful-melancholy story of Carl and Ellie with just perfect images and Michael Giacchino's score. And then the rest of the movie has balloons, birds, talking dogs, and a zeppelin. Compliment and criticism: That's a soft landing. — Darren Franich

The premise is so good it's almost scary. Well, not really. Having already tapped the make-believe world of inanimate kids' toys to teach indelible lessons in friendship, Pixar turned its gaze to those terrifying closet-dwelling things that go bump in the night — and made them not-so-terrifying at all. Thanks to the contrasting Mutt-and-Jeff voices of John Goodman and Billy Crystal, Monsters, Inc. tells the story of a hulking, furry blue softie named Sully (Goodman) and his squat, one-eyed motor-mouthed pal Mike (Crystal) who are exiled to the world of their pint-sized prey and turns the fuel of childhood nightmares into a fuzzy, fizzy confection. — Chris Nashawaty

What could be more adorable than a rodent putting its tiny salmonella paws all over your fancy eggplant? Literally anything — until Pixar somehow turned it into pure magic. Their charming tale of a little French rodent with big culinary dreams took an unlikely premise and turned it into commercial and critical gold. Voiced by Patton Oswalt, Remy is both wise and cunning and, it turns out, pretty gifted with a whisk. — Leah Greenblat

Rarely have so few bleeps been blooped to such great effect. Wall-E may have been barely verbal, and technically, a trash compactor — his name stands for Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-Class — but the world's loneliest little robot is also one of Pixar’s most enduring, deeply lovable characters. — Leah Greenblatt

There's something elemental about the rivalry between Woody and Buzz Lightyear. The Tom Hanks-voiced cowpoke is the beloved childhood toy soaked in decades-old nostalgia — were any kids actually playing with cowboys in 1995? Whereas Tim Allen's spaceman represents multiple layers of next-generation bravado: The high-tech Space Age, the disruptive digital world preparing to take Hollywood to infinity and the 21st century. Their squabbling-frenemy origin story plays out in Pixar's first film, which set the caper-comedy standard for the studio while conjuring up the best new animated ensemble since Looney Tunes. — Darren Franic

In 2004, Brad Bird made every superhero movie of the next 14 years, except he got there first and did it better. You can spot the Iron Giant director's influences — a superhero registration act out of Watchmen, a crimefighting-family dynamic like Fantastic Four, a general theme of misunderstood-awesomeness that suggests the diet-Randian god complex of the DC Extended Universe filtered through the playful self-awareness of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. But Incredibles is a universe unto itself, reflecting Bird's own fascinations. Michael Giacchino's retro-swank score backgrounds a remarkably delicate story. As voiced by Holly Hunter and Craig T. Nelson, Elastigirl and Mr. Incredible are the most believable married couple in cartoon history, balancing professional regrets and personal strife. A long-in-development sequel arrives in 2018. It's got a lot to live up to. — Darren Franich

Just when you thought Buzz and Woody couldn't possibly go to infinity and beyond another time, along comes this three-hankie tear-jerker about the loss of innocence. Andy, the menagerie of playthings' beloved owner, has grown up and graduated past his toy-playing years and is now headed off to college. The question the film poses is a fairly heavy one: What happens to toys when the child grows up? But Pixar naturally finds a way to turn the existential into the surreal, giving them a second life as the pawed-at tchotchkes at a toddler daycare center (the horror!). Newcomer — and erstwhile Barbie himbo — Ken (Michael Keaton) steals the show in a natty Nehru jacket. Or, at least, the parts of the show when you’re not blubbering into Kleenex. — Chris Nashawaty

Yes, all of these movies are fun first and foremost. But just beneath the surface of every Pixar film lurks a primal fear or threat with a tidy lesson attached. Take Finding Nemo, an Odyssean underwater epic about a doting dada fish named Marlin (the sandpaper-voiced Albert Brooks) who loses his son, Nemo, and has to swim to the ends of the ocean to find him. So there’s terror, yes. And there’s a quest, to be sure. But thanks to Marlin’s daffy, dim sidekick, Dory (Ellen DeGeneres), this is also the rare movie where Albert Brooks allows himself to be overshadowed in the laughs department. Heartwarming and humane, Finding Nemo is Pixar at its absolute best. It makes the deep seem, well, deep. — Chris Nashawaty

What are little girls made of? Not sugar and spice, but pure feeling: Sadness, Joy, Anger, Disgust, Fear. Anthropomorphizing emotions is a risky business; then again, so is making a movie so interior that most of it literally happens inside a kid’s brain. But spectacular voice work and some of the most inspired animation the company has ever produced bring this within the slimmest margin of taking the top spot. — Leah Greenblatt

Woody's gone, and his friends have to find him. That's the simple sequel pitch on the second Toy Story adventure; it sounds like (and almost was!) a direct-to-video franchise extension, the Pixar version of Mario is Missing! Instead, almost 20 years later, it remains the studio's most entertaining work, balancing all-time comedic hijinks with nigh-existential sadness. Woody discovers a kind of family he never had, including trusty horse Bullseye and pal Jessie, voiced by Joan Cusack with a just-right mix of cheerful swagger and paranoid sorrow. (It's Jessie who provides the emotional high point of the film and the whole Pixar canon, with a little help from Sarah McLachlan.) Meanwhile, Woody's friends go on an epic quest to rescue him, which involves a trip to the Toy Store and a clever dual role for Tim Allen. Toy Story 2 was, by all accounts, hell to make, crafted on a deadline at a time when Pixar was still a new company coming off that bug movie (no, the other bug movie). But the joy of the film is how light it feels, an adventure starring characters larger than life yet small enough to carry. — Darren Franich