The original Toy Story was a major milestone in the world of animation: the first feature film made up entirely of computer-generated animation. That in and of itself would be one thing, but it turned out that animation studio Pixar was also good at storytelling, so for all that the animation in Toy Story was groundbreaking, the story itself was well-told and fun. Over time, Pixar would produce two sequels to Toy Story that, collectively, make up a darn good trilogy with the final part being one of if not the best animated feature film the company has ever produced.
Yes, there’s also Toy Story 4, but I’ll hold off on saying anything about that one until further down this entry.
Like the previous two films in this trilogy, Toy Story 3 opens with young Andy (John Morris) at play with his toys. Unlike previous films in this series, Toy Story 3‘s opening scene is not current. No, it’s a flashback because Andy is getting ready to head off to college and hasn’t actually played with his toys in a long time. Many of the others were sold off in yard sales and the like, including Bo Peep, but there’s still Woody (Tom Hanks), Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), and most of the rest of the gang from the previous films. Woody is sure they’ll all be taken care of with the worst case scenario being they have to move to the attic, and there’s stuff to do up there until such time as Andy needs them again. Besides, Woody himself, as Andy’s favorite toy, has the advantage since he might actually be going to college with the young man. As it is, the others are taking it with varying degrees of concern. Buzz seems to be OK with things, the one who trusts Woody the most. Jessie (Joan Cusack) has been through this before when she was accidentally left behind by her own original owner years before. And on the far end, there’s Rex (Wallace Shawn), who never met a moment when panic wasn’t his default option.
And that’s more or less Toy Story in a nutshell: the toys were made to be played with, and when that doesn’t happen, what do they do with themselves? Kid owners never really learn their toys are alive–Sid from the first film is an exception, and he’s still hanging around as a garbage man in this entry–but the toys really need them to find a purpose in their lives. What is a toy that is never played with? It’s just, well, there. The toys all knew on some level that Andy wasn’t going to play with them forever, but that doesn’t mean they take that moment very well.
That concept–what do toys do when they aren’t being played with?–has generally played out in interesting ways throughout these films. First was Woody’s jealousy over his (temporary) replacement as Andy’s favorite. Next was toys as collector’s items, where a prospector doll was happy to never leave his packaging and stay in mint condition. And here, it’s about toys coming to grips with their owner outgrowing them. The best the toys can hope for out of Andy is that he’ll have children of his own one day that will want to play with them. Everything about life with Andy has changed because everyone there grew up, perhaps most symbolic when Woody summons the family dog, one he rode like a horse in Toy Story 2 when he needed to get somewhere fast, only for the dog to show up, looking old, fat, and very slow.
But then there’s Lotso (Ned Beatty), a Care Bear like toy who, like Jessie, was abandoned one day quite by accident. Jessie was in a dark place, but she jumped at the chance to be someone else’s plaything. Lotso? He gets back to his home and finds he’s been replaced by an identical toy. The whole thing makes him crack, and while Jessie proved to be well-adjusted enough to realize she could just be someone else’s toy, Lotso is a different story: he just sees himself and all toys as basically trash that all kids will eventually just throw out. Sure, the daycare is probably the best place possible for toys that have been outgrown. There’s a steady stream of kids who will always be there to play with them. But it doesn’t help when a bitter teddy bear, faking a folksy Southern accent and easygoing charm, is running the place like a prison camp and punishing newcomers just because he can.
By the by, Beatty is, like the entire voice cast, perfect here. Many animated films these days recruit big name actors with a lot of name recognition to play roles in their films, but Pixar has, until fairly recently, resisted that urge. Instead, their casts are full of actors who may have some name recognition, but also have distinct voices full of personality. Tom Hanks, Michael Keaton, and (depending on your views of the guy) Tim Allen aside, this is a cast that includes the likes of Shawn, Beatty, Cusack, Don Rickles, Pixar mainstay John Ratzenberger, Estelle Harris, Kristen Schaal, Timothy Dalton, Jeff Garlin, and Bonnie Hunt, with Blake Clark replacing the late Jim Varney as Slinky Dog. That’s a cast of people who, by and large, are not going to be getting the lead role in a major motion picture, but do have distinctive voices that give their characters a lot of personality all on their own.
I’m going to have to be careful not to repeat what I just said there in later entries, especially the one for the original Toy Story.
There is, however, one other thing the best Pixar films are known for: they can make a grown adult tear up for at least one scene. It doesn’t have to heartbreakingly sad. It just has to be something where emotion can overwhelm the viewer, and I’m not ashamed to say it’s happened to me more than once with their films. And what makes Toy Story 3 stand out there is it may actually have two such moments. The first comes when the toys appear to be doomed. They’ve fallen into the path of an incinerator at the dump. There’s no apparent way out. Lotso might have helped, but he’s already saved himself. It’s intense as the toys, one by one, give up the struggle and just take each other by the hand and wait for the inevitable. Yes, they’re rescued by the three-eyed alien squeak toys. Those same characters had been run over mere moments before, and the scene was done in such a way to make the characters truly look doomed. Did I think, for a moment, that Pixar would kill off most of the main cast in a third film? One aimed at children no less? No, but I couldn’t tell you how they were going to get out of it as I was watching it the first time around. The scene was set up that well. It truly was an intensely played moment that ended in a way that worked within the narrative and in a manner that should surprise and delight the audience.
And then there’s the end, where Woody says goodbye as Andy drives away for the last time. He and the others got one last time to play with their original owner after he donates the last of his toys to the shy little girl Bonnie (Emily Hahn). Woody’s whole thing across all three films has been wanting to be Andy’s toy, and so, it’s only fitting that Woody gets the last word in, saying goodbye to one owner as he makes the next step in life to being with another one. It also says something that Woody was the one toy Andy was reluctant to give up. He may not know Woody is alive, but Woody meant something to him.
And with that in mind, let me say this real fast about Toy Story 4. Toy Story 3 is, in so many ways, the perfect end to an unplanned trilogy. That the series seemed to get better with each entry through the first three is a sign of Pixar’s improvement both in animation and as storytellers. So, what to make of the fourth entry beyond the fact it was obviously done for the same reason most sequels are made, i.e. in the hopes of making the kind of box office as previous entries? Honestly, I felt even before I saw it that there was no way the fourth entry could live up to the third. Everything that needed to be said was arguably said already. But at the same time, Toy Story 4 is not an awful film. It’s fun enough in its own right. I tend to view it as basically an epilogue to the main trilogy, a winding down that is much more a send-off and retirement to Woody. He helped himself find peace of mind and happiness. Now he can do the same for others, and he’ll have Bo Peep with him as he goes. It’s unessential in the grand scheme of things, but it’s also not some sort of cinematic crime. It’s, well, fine. And that may be the best and worst thing I can say about it after all is said and done.
That said…I’d say skip Lightyear unless you are that into animation or Pixar in general. I don’t know what they were thinking with that one. It’s outright forgettable.
NEXT: Apparently, I got nothing but sequels for the time being. Be back soon as I start to tackle Peter Jackson’s masterpiece of a trilogy, but not in the intended order no matter what end of the Stacker list I started from with 2002’s The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.
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