Toy Story 3

Growing Up
Dir. Lee Unkrich
2010

There are a few categories of “three-quels.” There are adaptations of a book in a series, which naturally call for a third film to correspond to a third volume (Return of the King, The Twilight Saga: Eclipse). There are film sets created with three in mind, notably including the Star Wars films. Of course there are the rampant, creatively bankrupt attempts to cash in on a franchise with a tacked-on, irrelevant film (Pirates of the Caribbean 3, Jurassic Park 3, Spy Kids 3, etc.). The final, and rarest, category of three-quel is the unexpected success, the film that is not necessary per se but reworks the franchise formula to bring about closure for the characters. This category could include films such as Back to the Future 3 and High School Musical 3 (Spider-Man 3 wishes it could be included). Count Toy Story 3 in as the newest and strongest Sequel We Didn’t Know We Needed.

It’s not as if we couldn’t have seen it coming. Toy Story 2, though a sweet, funny film, put forth an essential dilemma for its characters, one that was only partially resolved in its finale. Is it better to live forever without relationships, or to take joy in what we know is impermanent? At the end of the previous film, protagonist Woody decided that it was best to forgo the cold immortality of the museum in favor of a warm (but temporary) life with his owner, Andy. The choice was made, and audiences smiled over the credits. But there was a poignant thought lurking underneath: what are the consequences? What happens in ten years? Toy Story 3 takes what could have been a throwaway musing and creates a film around it. The premise is obvious, picking up thematically exactly where the franchise left off: Andy is going to college. The toys don’t know what lies in the next phase of life: “We’re done! Over the hill!” Mr. Potatohead moans. What follows is a moral and comic odyssey as Woody and Co. chase down a new place to call home, revisiting the “mission” structure of the previous films while getting to the heart of the series’ issues of purpose, belonging and relationships. The toys mistakenly think that Andy has abandoned them, and agree to relocate to Sunnyside Daycare Center, a candy-colored establishment with a dark underbelly. As the characters uncover a totalitarian plot to keep them in line, the film turns into a prison break, with some twists along the way. As the film progresses, we learn that the politics of Sunnyside have a lot to do with the issues of abandonment that the protagonists are also experiencing. Though there are many fun asides, the people at Pixar know what they are doing, and nothing is thematically out of place.

In some ways, the film is a piece of calculated nostalgia. It begins with an effervescent “play” scene that calls to mind the opening of the first film. It moves into a montage of camcorder footage of Andy playing with the toys, complete with “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” in the background. Character-wise, there are few new developments, and most wear the hats they have worn in the past. Woody is doggedly loyal, and skeptical of any changes in the status quo. Buzz finds himself again with an altered view of reality. Though the movie does deal with profound questions, the packaging is largely the same: the toys find themselves in a place that is not home, and go on a mission to get back there. The inventiveness comes in the riffs and little touches that happen within the formula, which are delightful and copious. The animators outdo themselves with the new toys we meet, which are full of the details of wear and tear; frayed hair, tags sticking out, faded colors. The small moments impress: Woody’s flailing run, his keeping atop a roll of toilet paper, or getting caught on his pull string. The voice acting is brilliant as always. The movie is punctuated by sight gags and chase scenes (as are many Pixar films), the stuff that makes it to the trailer. And it’s all rewarding. Especially tickling is the developing relationship between Barbie and Ken, the comic gift that keeps on giving. Pixar makes sure to give us the whole Toy Story experience, from the jokes to the characters to the structure.

And yet, there is something different here. We must remember that Toy Story 2 came out before we expected any kind of profundity from Pixar films, and its theme of abandonment and belonging was unexpected for a “kids’ movie.” Jessie’s mid-film ballad about her previous owner was a unique moment at the multiplex, an emotionally complex tearjerker that was on a different level of kiddie film heartbreak than Bambi’s mom getting killed. Sure, the movie was full of toy-store gags and chases in plastic cars, but at its core it was about the very purpose of a toy (or as Aristotle would say, its final cause). In the end of that film, the toys decided that the purpose of a toy was to be loved and played with. Toy Story 3 takes that decision and puts it in a crisis (as all effective plots should), and the stakes feel very high, and the question feels very adult.

Toy Story 3 is about life transitions, and how people deal with the pain of moving on. Andy is going somewhere new, the toys are going somewhere new, and presumably, so are we. The movie shows us the consequences of our responses to change, whether for good or for ill. Toy Story 3 is a return to form for Pixar, and it does sacrifice some of the innovation of the recent films in favor of a familiar structure. But it pulls no punches with regard to the philosophy it began to develop in the second film. It is a bit melancholy for that, but certainly finds its joy in the end. The denouement is richly satisfying, a conclusion that feels absolutely complete and stops short of outright sentimentality. By the end, we have been on a journey that has led us to reevaluate our choices, our attachments, and what it means to call something home.

We probably would have been all right without Toy Story 3. It’s another Pixar confection that follows the form of its predecessors. And I hope there will not be a fourth to spoil the impeccable wrap-up. But if there is anything we can learn from this third outing, it is that Pixar takes itself seriously as a maker of moral films. By moral, I do not mean the moralizing that most “family films” resort to, spewing out obvious messages about “being yourself.” I mean that the studio consistently puts out movies that wrestle with the meaning of life and relationships. They consistently face their characters with real choices. They mean what they say, and follow their ideas through each film. And they consistently capture the American imagination by doing it. Rarely has a sequel delved so deeply into the consequences of the happily ever after it created for itself. We may not have asked for this film, but damned if we didn’t need it.

Myth:
The issue of immortality (as the toys outlive their usefulness to their owners)
Moving to a strange land

Moral:
The extent of loyalty
The response to a great change

Zeitgeist Factor:
There is a tendency in all of us to long for simpler times, and this movie shows us that while we may never have things as they were, they can still be good, albeit in a different way. Like many Pixar films, this one aspires more to be timeless than to capture any kind of modern spirit. Perhaps giving up old ties will always be seen as a liberal theme, with Woody as the conservative, unwilling convert. The film is especially poignant to the internet-age kids who saw the first one as children and are now undergrads.