I much prefer Linda Holmes' take on Inside Out than Alva Noe's. Maybe this illustrates the innate differences between the sexes. Maybe Mr. Noe overthinks everything and doesn't know how to have fun. Or is incapable of suspending his sense of disbelief long enough to be entertained. I'm thinking his joy is bound and gagged somewhere in the recesses of his long-term memory and has been replaced by analytical control freak. Rendering him unable to enjoy anything. All I know is, my son who attended the film with me told me they totally nailed what goes on inside the adolescent male brain when Riley speaks to the boy who dropped his water bottle. I can't wait for the sequel when the puberty button is deployed.