Except for perhaps "Up," no other Disney-Pixar movie comes close to the humor, the likeability, and the heart offered up by their "Toy Story" franchise. They feature the absolutely perfect blend of plot, character voices, and relatibility. And each successive installment somehow mystically tops the previous film. This is virtually unheard-of in sequel-laden Hollywood, which usually has no clue on how to actually build upon success.
"Toy Story 3" is no different than the two films that preceded it. In many ways, it's my favorite chapter in the saga of Andy's toys. Because it puts Woody, Buzz, and company in the kind of peril that I always imagined for my own toys. Maybe that's why the concept has always resonated with me so much.
Yeah, I talked to my toys. I imagined them to be real with feelings. And if I ignored one for a few days, I felt guilty.
To me, Len's toy chest was always animated. Living and breathing for me. With dramas and/or comedies to be staged by yours truly. During the summer months, the theater was located all around our kitchen fan.
Let's see. There were all the little plastic cartoon figures. Fred and Wilma Flintstone. Barney and Betty Rubble. They didn't live in caves. Nope, they were residing in apartments/ledge of the china closet next to the fan.
Mickey, Minnie, Donald, and Goofy? On the window ledge on either side of the cooling equipment. Popeye was in the penthouse, which was the top of the fan. He lived alone, although Olive Oyl did visit from time to time. It was all above board. No hanky panky at Len's Luxury Apartment/Fan.
Eventually, at some point every summer, one of the above would slip and fall into the fan. They'd be lying on the outside of the window and would not be retrieved until Dad took down the fan for the winter. I'd be devastated and convinced that the toy in question was viewing me as a horrible owner. I had done them wrong. I'd look longingly at the little figure lying in its solitude and unable to partake in all the fun and games. I'd imagine that their tears would be matching the ones rolling down my cheeks.
The last half-hour of "Toy Story 3" offers perhaps the darkest moments of the franchise. Our friends might be headed for incineration. The end of their world. And ours. I was transported back to those days of losing a piece of a game or the leg a toy soldier. When my Jerry Mahoney dummy had an arm tear, Grandma announced she was going to do the operation. I was dismissed from the room so the surgery could commence. I waited for word from the kitchen. Would Jerry be okay? I sobbed quietly in anticipation.
"Toy Story 3" is a lot like that day. Waiting and dreading and then being totally rewarded. It's the one and maybe only cinematic journey you want to take this summer. Go! Now!
Dinner last night: BLT sandwich at Cafe 50s Diner.
3 comments:
The Toy Story movies are probably the best animated films not produced by Walt Disney. The Pixar boys hit on a brilliant premise--toys are alive and have a secret life from their owners--and developed it beyond this cynic's expectations.
The voice casting by Pixar is so smart and surprising, especially Tom Hanks who gives a full performance without ever being seen. Neat trick.
The sweetness of the Toy Story world is balanced by a darkness familiar to anyone who was once a child. Scary stuff out there. Mean kids, danger, separation, things in the shadows. You will not forget the incinerator scene in #3. Trust me.
With or without kids, make the latest Toy Story part of your American summer. Have ice cream afterwards. Or fireworks.
Oh, you playing with your own toys is going in Len's Story.
I was crying at the end of an animated movie, for kids. Whod a thunk it?
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