In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you right now that I'm a huge Pixar fan. I reveled in Ratatouille, I kvelled at Cars, and Monsters, Inc.? *dreamy sigh* As a studio, Pixar's mastered the process of taking a simple concept, turning it into a compelling story, leavening it all with interesting, relateable, three-dimensional characters, and balancing innocence with poignancy. Also, Pixar movies are hella funny.
Wall-E and UP marked a shift in the tone of the Pixar cannon. (I cried relentlessly through both of them. Yes. I was that girl—the one making a snerk sound every time she tried to breathe and unintentionally scaring the 9-year-old next to her.) Where Pixar once gently sprinkled consequences and adult conflict throughout their scripts—and lightened up the heavier scenes with hilariousness—now they're getting full-on sad. It's almost like Pixar's experienced a collective death in the family, and while they're working really hard to get back to normal, they're not quite done grieving yet.
So far, the Toy Story franchise has been pretty buoyant. In the first and second films, Woody, Buzz and pals supported each other, laughed together, got into scrapes, got out of scrapes (go teamwork!), learned important life lessons, and treated their friends with kindness and respect. Occasionally, bigger obstacles came along, but the characters waded through their moral quandaries, and without fail, made the right call. Their trials made them better toys.
In the third film, things are different. Andy, who hasn't played with his toys in years, is 18 and headed off to college. Through a series of miscommunications, our pared-down gang of regulars is accidentally donated to a day-care facility. While the other toys initially welcome them with open arms, it soon becomes clear that the happy reception is a sham. Most of Andy's toys are relegated to the toddler room, where unspeakable indignities befall them. (For example, poor Mr. Potato Head's various accessories get to know a viscous two-year-old nostril.) The adjacent room, which houses the older, gentler children, is ruled by evil fascist Lotso, a plush bear who's set up a toy caste system. Since he's got the muscle to protect his terrible reign, it seems that Buzz et al may be forced to live out their lives in a den of horrible, mucus-filled inequity. Woody, who's on a separate journey, winds up falling in with Bonnie, an adorable human girl, and her toy posse; he still longs to return to his original owner.
Of course, there are moments of hilarity. Ken and Barbie's relationship is delightful. There's a creepily funny vignette where Mr. Potato Head must find an alternative to his potato body. Buzz's "Spanish mode" hits a new height for animated awesomeness. Even still, the movie's saturated with feelings of loss and sadness. The toys, once again, refuse to trust Woody, their de facto leader, which is what lands them in day-care hell to begin with; no one ever calls them on their unfair defection from their leader. Woody self-righteously asserts that a toy's job is to be there for its owner, whether that means daily playtime or an eternity locked in a dusty box in the attic. (Is he right or wrong? Even he doesn't even seem to know.) Lotso, the smiling villain, is unrepentant to the end. The police state of the day-care center is kind of unnerving. And in one particularly harrowing scene, the toys are forced to come to terms with their own mortality.
Toy Story 3 is still very much a Pixar film, and is still adheres Pixar's wonderful standards. Just know that it's the new Pixar that's behind this sequel, and the new Pixar's eyes are still a little red from crying.
Toy Story 3 gets 4 out of a possible 5 BAM!s
Did you see Toy Story 3? Did you think it was sad?
Related post: Movie Review: The Karate Kid
By: Rachel Korowitz
Topics: Digital
Tags: movies, toy story 3, pixar, movie reviews, toy story, mr. potato head
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