Appropriately enough, I cannot remember how I originally got roped into seeing Finding Dory (2016) in the theater.  It was likely due to whoever I was dating at the time insisting that we see it.  When I am in a relationship, I do not mind doing such things.  It is funny, when they are in the past, how quickly the details of them can fade from memory.  Now, I am not going to delve too far into the idea of forgetfulness and how that can connect to Faith.  If you want a treatise on that subject, go read my review of Finding Nemo (2003).  My only intention here, as with any introduction, is to give you some kind of personal connection to today’s film, the sequel, Finding Dory.  More practically, because I had already done the predecessor, I figured I would give you the follow up.  You will have to read on to see if there is anything different for this Catholic reviewer to address.

Since the title is Finding Dory, it is natural that we start with the title character, but shortly after her birth.  The little Dory (voiced by Sloane Murray) as a new-to-the-ocean “fishling” displays the same problems with short-term memory as is her trademark.  It is her parents, Charlie (voiced by Eugene Levy) and Jenny (voiced by Diane Keaton), who are the first to try to teach young Dory to cope with her condition.  Given her forgetfulness, Charlie and Jenny worry that if she were to be separated, she would not be able to find her way home.  Inevitably, Dory ends up getting caught in the undercurrent, and is swept far away from her family.  From here, we see a montage of her trying to return to her home until we get to the grown-up version (voiced by Ellen DeGeneres) living in the same reef as Marlin (voiced by Albert Brooks) and his son Nemo (voiced by Hayden Rolence).  Dory has not thought of her parents for some time, but while helping the class of children fish her long-term memory is jogged by the name “The Jewel of Morro Bay, California.”  Suddenly, she recalls that she is from this aquarium on another continent, and that her parents are likely still at this location.  Being the kind of fish that just “does,” she wants to charge off immediately to cross the Pacific Ocean.  Marlin, feeling responsible for her, preaches his typical caution.  It is Nemo’s admonition that gets him to act, suggesting that they link up with their turtle friends to ride the deep-water currents all the way from Australia to California.  Anthropomorphic creatures are magical, are they not?  As soon as the crossing is complete, Dory excitedly starts shouting for her parents, awakening a giant squid they must out-swim, which results in her getting tangled in the loop of a plastic ring.  Some researchers from the aquarium spot her, scoop her up, and take her to the quarantine section of the facility.  While there, she begins to remember more about her childhood, and meet fish, some of whom recognize her, but others are new.  The most important to the plot of these is Hank (voiced by Ed O’Neill), an octopus who wants Dory’s tag so that he can live out his desire to spend his remaining days safe in an aquarium in Cleveland.  To that end, there is a truck due to depart the next morning to transfer marine life to a new exhibit there, and Dory has been tagged to go be a part of that transport.  Hank wants that ticket, and Dory is searching for her parents, so he agrees to transport her around the institute in order to accomplish her goal in exchange for the tag.  In their misadventures, Dory encounters Destiny (voiced by Kaitlin Olson), a nearsighted whale shark whom Dory had known as a child.  It is Destiny that points Dory towards the open ocean exhibit, to which Hank is able to get her, eventually.  As Dory and Hank move from point to point, somehow without being spotted, Marlin and Nemo are trying to get into the Aquarium to rescue their friend.  The solution, given to them by a pair of sea lions with British accents, is to be flown into the facility by deranged common loon (makes sense, I suppose).  It is unsurprising, then, that they miss their target and have their own set of death-defying moments as they search for their friend.  As for Dory, she learns that her parents had likely gone to quarantine to look for her, and that happens to be Marlin and Nemo’s destination.  Thus, we have a mini-reunion in the pipes leading to that section, which also coincides with the imminent departure of the truck for Cleveland.  Diving into a tank full of other fish like her, Dory is devastated to find out that her parents made it out into the ocean to look for her.  In her sadness, she is knocked out into a drain into the bay, but Marlin and Nemo remain stuck inside the truck.  This is when things start to turn around for Dory, despite how bleak they seem.  Spotting a line of shells on the sea floor, like her parents used to do for her to help her know how to return home, she finally gets to her long-lost mom and dad.  In turn, with a little help from Destiny and the echolocation of the beluga whale Bailey (Ty Burrell), they are able to make it to the truck before it gets too far.  I do remember scoffing at this sequence because it involves an octopus driving a car, while Dory navigates from a Nalgene bottle on the dashboard, but, hey, it is a Disney cartoon.  You can call it a course correction when they crash the truck into the water, and everyone swims back to the reef from where Dory, Marlin, and Nemo began their journey.

Again, I know Finding Nemo is a Disney cartoon, but I could not countenance an octopus behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.  What honestly touched my Catholic heart, though, is watching the care that others display for Dory.  Despite being a fish, she is what one would call these days a special needs person.  As a modern Catholic, it is both heart-warming and frightening how society has evolved in its treatment of such people.  There are some who look at the accommodations we make for a variety of difficulties as being inconvenient for those who do not need them.  I view these kinds of reactions as a soft form of bullying, though as a victim of such treatment, I may have somewhat of a biased opinion.  I bring this up to explain my reaction to Dory constantly going to people for help, and beginning her entreaty with the phrase, “I’m sorry.”  While my own experience was not the result of any kind of impairment on my part, aside from social anxiety, I know why she says what she says.  It is because the assumption is that everyone else is “normal,” and they do not have time for our problems.  You can accuse me of being dramatic, and yet I can point to periods in history when society has tried to “correct” itself, not by being more open to those who are different in some way, but by forcefully ridding itself of what has been sometimes labeled as aberrations.  It is with those so-called aberrations, like Dory, that God is the closest.  Granted, she does not pray, but she has what could be called a form of prayer that always gets her back on track whenever life is cruel.  In real life, we can experience God through the Church, which has always been a haven for those cast out of regular society.  I could give you numerous examples, but for now we can settle on the leper colonies run by the Church.  Thankfully, we do not have to worry about such things today, and I pray that when we see someone like Dory, we can react more like the Church has over the years.

Now that I have seen Finding Nemo and Finding Dory in quick succession, I think I prefer Finding Dory.  It is a more touching story that hits on themes that any Catholic can support.  There is just enough Disney silliness in it for me not to ever want to watch it again.  Still, I did not hate the experience.