Film Review by Emma Champion: Toy Story 3 (2010) – Tom Hanks and Tim Allen (voices)

When I was 12, I began the painful process of packing away my toys.  Almost a third of my very-pink bedroom was a miniature, plastic Barbie village – a house, a café, a fashion boutique – they were a very important chapter of my childhood and I still remember how difficult it was to say goodbye.

I must have had at least fifty dolls, all of whom belonged in a world I had created, which had an intricate, on-going, soap-style storyline.  My dolls were separated into five families, all with differing, fictional surnames, and whenever I acquired a new doll, I would spend a lot of time deciding whose relative that doll would be, and what role he or she would play in the saga.

Upon preparing this miniature community for the attic, I packed each doll into a clear, plastic bag, and stuck a label on the outside explaining who that “person” was in the not-so-grand scheme of things – i.e. “Lindy Grayson (green top, denim skirt), daughter of Jackie Heart (pink dress) married to Paul Grayson (white t-shirt, leather jacket)” – and so on.  What can I say – it seemed important at the time.

However, if you asked me whether I ever considered what it might have felt like from the toy’s perspective to be tightly-wrapped in a sandwich bag and plunged into pitch-black incarceration, my honest answer would have been no, until I watched Toy Story 2 (1999).

In the late eighties, a Channel Four children’s programme entitled Rolf’s Cartoon Time (not Rolf’s Cartoon Club – that came later) showcased an animated short from a little-known company called Pixar.  The show’s presenter, Rolf Harris, enthusiastically proclaimed that everything we were about to see was created using state-of-the-art computer graphics.  The short was, of course, Luxo Jr (1986) – the now-famous film which introduced us to Pixar’s desk lamp mascot.  I remember turning to my mother and remarking on how long it must have taken for the animators to move the desk lamp frame-by-frame; too young and naive to understand how the effect had been created, and so new to computer-generated images that I had completely bought into the authenticity of what I was seeing.

Years later, Pixar’s first full-length feature, Toy Story (1995) – the story of two lost toys trying to get home to their owner – became a revelation in cinematic technology.  A benchmark as relevant as the first sound on film (The Jazz Singer, 1927) or the first Technicolor feature (The Toll of the Sea, 1922), Pixar gave moviegoers the first, full-length, animated feature ever to be fully rendered in CGI.  Instead of the flat, hand-drawn animation made famous by Walt Disney, we were treated to a more three-dimensional, visual treat, the like of which had never been seen before.  This added a sense of realism to cartoons for the very first time, and gave rise to a completely new niche in the animation genre.

Toy Story’s genius was born out of its clever placing of toys and brands we might recognise from our own childhoods, playing alongside the fictitious characters in order for adult members of the audience to relate to what was essentially a children’s tale (The Ohio Art Company’s legendary Etch-a-Sketch; Texas Instruments’ 1983 best-seller, Speak & Spell, etc).  Nostalgia is an alluring thing, and it is an important ingredient in what is now a very lucrative formula.

Toy Story 2 further played on these nostalgic elements, by highlighting the pitfalls of a toy’s existence when the owner’s childhood comes screeching to a halt and the toy no longer matters to the former child who once loved them dearly.  The sequence which showcased Cowgirl doll Jessie’s (Joan Cusack) back story was hailed by film critics as the most moving segment of animated film ever made.  And, girls like me all over the world became riddled with guilt as we remembered how we allowed our dolls to gather dust as we became more interested in make-up and clothes.

Enter Toy Story 3 (2010), the latest instalment in this fifteen-year yarn, and our Toy-troop are in the final throws of their time with the now-seventeen year-old Andy (voiced here by John Morris – the former child-actor, aged twenty-six, who lent his vocals to the same character in the 1995 original), about to leave home for college.  We learn, quite early in, that Andy has previously seen fit to get shot of quite a few of his old toys, including Woody’s (Tom Hanks) long-term sweetheart, Bo.  Already, our tear ducts are twitching, and we’ve barely made a dent in the running time.  Go easy on us, Pixar – this film is said to be the last in the Toy Story saga, and saying goodbye to these characters is as upsetting as packing away our own toy collections back in the day (just imagine, if you will, how the scene would have played out had the twelve-year-old-me been given the task of putting them away; out come the sandwich bags, and the first label reads, “Woody, best friend of Buzz…”).

High jinks ensue when Andy’s Mum (Laurie Metcalf) suggests he make some decisions regarding his toys – what will go in the attic, what will go in the bin and what he may decide to keep.  A little mix-up lands the toys in a day care centre, newly donated to enthusiastic toddlers.  Since Woody had been selected by Andy as the only toy who would accompany him to college and into adulthood, our cowboy hero feels duty-bound to separate from the tight-knit group and make his way home.  However, when he learns the true nature (and indeed, torture) of the day care centre, he heads back to find his friends and break them out of the clink…

Although we, as an audience are aware that Pixar are capable of far more complex visuals than the ones in use here (Wall-e, 2008 anyone?), it is clear that animators have not wanted to stray too far from the visual tone of the first two movies, so that the story is seamless should you choose to watch all three in consecutive order (unlike, say, the enormous leap from the clunky, unapologetic props and sets of the original Star Wars films, to the embarrassing over use of CG effects in the prequels).

Thanks to the gauntlet which has been thrown down by the first two films, there are certain beats in the rhythm of the plot that we expect to be hit – the heist-style escape plan; the play on Buzz LightYear’s (Tim Allen) delusional shortcomings; the unexpected villain; the outsider-toy’s back story; etc.  These predictable, reoccurring elements might serve to rouse boredom amongst an expectant audience, but Pixar pull it off beautifully, by taking what we expect and adding a flourish or a twist to proceedings.  A good example of this might be Buzz’s Lightyear’s “Spanish Mode”; each film has seen Buzz fully immersed in his Space Ranger persona for a spell before returning to his senses.  This film sees Buzz accidentally restored to his factory settings which inadvertently unleashes an Hispanic version of the “Astro-Nut”, spicing up the familiarity to great comic effect.

Speaking of comedy, there are moments of this movie that inspire genuine laughter.  Chuckles the Clown (Bud Luckey) and his melancholy expression; the all-seeing, cymbal-clashing security monkey embroiled in his jobs-worthiness; and Mattel man-doll, Ken (Michael Keaton), plagued by the reality that he is a girl’s toy designed as an accessory to the superior Barbie (voiced by an instantly-recognisable Jodi Benson, A.K.A Ariel, The Little Mermaid), will have sides inevitably splitting.

There are a few in-jokes and gentle tributes to be found in this film by anyone willing to look for them.  For example, one of Bonnie’s (Emily Hahn) cherished teddies is a plush version of Totoro – an acknowledgement of Studio Ghibli and its contribution to the advancement of animation (or, for cynics amongst you, a shameless, self-plug for Disney, who distribute the Ghibli films on DVD).  And the Picasso-esque transformation of Potato Head (Don Rickles) via the medium of the tortilla wrap – perhaps a statement in the Animation-as-Art debate.  Also, the licence plate on Andy’s Mum’s people-carrier is the same as it appears in the original.  Little touches like this create not only a sense of continuity but also a place in the real world from which to contextualise the narrative.

It is the disarmingly raw emotion of this film, however, which will stay with you long after the credits have finished rolling.  A scene in which our ensemble face certain death sends a chill down the spine as they all link hands in acceptance of their fate and find comfort in the fact that they are all together.  And, in a flashback which shows a baby doll separated from its owner, the doll emanates actual baby sounds, causing the viewer to instantly connect with sentiment reserved for a real baby being separated from its birth mother.  The strongest of these moments, however, can be found in the film’s conclusion; a sequence which lasts several minutes so that the viewer can absorb its enormity, I challenge even the hardest of hearts not to be moved by its poignancy.  The final image, in all its simplicity, serves to calcify the three films as one whole entity, and is pure genius at work.

It is fair to conclude that the Toy Story films will be regarded highly in the world of cinema for generations to come.  These characters are to be celebrated as the origin of all Pixar has achieved in the last fifteen years, and are symbols for many of what childhood meant to us all.  Toy Story 3 is a love letter to the boundless wonder that is a child’s imagination, and how our exploration of such limitlessness shapes us into the people we become.

Bitter sweet and entirely charming, this third instalment in a much-cherished story does nothing to tarnish what had already gone before.  Appealing to adults and engaging to children, Pixar have once again managed to get that elusive balance just right, proving outright that they are still the champions of the game for which they wrote the rules.

Star Rating: *****

 

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