It's been a long time since a recent movie has made me think.
How can they, really? Mainstream movies have become all about marketing ploys with characters designed to adorn a Taco Bell cup, and rehashing of ideas and franchises we've already seen from the last few decades. We're stuck with movies that cost no less than $12 on a good day, and are using 3D as a means to keep us in the theaters and away from our home theaters. Is it little wonder why people have grown cynical? Doesn't a "Part 3" mean that we're just getting more of the same, even with a pedigree as strong as Pixar's? No. It doesn't. And that's where something very different sets in.
The most jarring realization is that Toy Story 3 is set in real-time. It's not the animated character that remains ageless. Andy has grown up with us, and like us, has become an adult as well. He's even voiced by his (also grown) original voice actor, and it puts it even more into perspective.
But toys don't age. Sure, Woody, Buzz and the gang have a few paint scuffs here and there, but they remain true to themselves. But times have changed. Andy's toy room is paired down to the surviving "favorites" who made the cut past the garage sales or getting lost or broken. Some old friends are gone and briefly twinge sadly upon the character's memories when the names are said, but there's something more. All they want is to be played with and simply feel their human friend's touch after years of neglect.
If Toy Story 3 sounds like a depressing film, it isn't. There are some wonderful characters. The old toys are still as vibrant and funny as ever, the new toys (such as a fabulously metrosexual Ken doll and a creepy cymbal monkey) are hilarious new additions to the cast, and as bitter as a stuffed bear can be for an enemy, there's a real level of sympathy for what made him the way he is.
And that's the thing about Toy Story 3. It's a love story. And a coming of age story. And a story about the fears of losing someone, or being rejected or abandoned, and the need to be useful and loved by someone. And it's a story about friends sticking together, because in this world, that's all they have.
The beginning aspect of the story is standard for Toy Story 3 is a familiar "The toys get separated from Andy and must find their way home" story, but it's the journey there that's different, and of all the characters, Woody has matured the most.
Gone is the spoiled, jealous "favorite" who retains a conscience, and later loses sight of his priorities and duties to be there for Andy. He's older, and wiser. He understands that he not only has to be there for his human friend, but his toy friends as well.
Buzz is no different. From delusional hero to realizing what he is, becoming comfortable with that, and providing his unwavering support, Buzz shows a new side as well. He's certainly funny, and hits his prime in this film, but he's content in what he is, and finally loosens up.
From potatoes to piggy banks to dinosaurs and restaurant squeak toys, the gang has seen a lot together, and in the final act, in easily their worst predicament yet, it struck me how "real" they had become. Like Andy, these toys were friends that I grew up with over the last 15 years. It's a powerful testament to Pixar that these little toys had dreams and deep emotions, and unwavering loyalty. Of course, you know nothing bad is going to happen to them, but the sincerity of one shared moment in the garbage dump was an amazing testament to a very pure moment of love and loyalty, and proving that how you live your life is just as important as how you prepare for your end. A day later, I still find myself pondering the implications of what I've taken from this film.
Again, this film is not a "downer" movie by any means. The ending is earned and well-deserved. Like the rest of the film, it's bittersweet and very "real", and I found myself simultaneously smiling and choking up with its resolution, and a yearning for my own stuffed and plastic friends long gone.
Pixar has again broken the mold with a brand of storytelling that can reach out to children and the child still in adults. Other films could learn a lot about Pixar's philosophy, animated or otherwise, and tell a story that comes from the heart, and not designed to promote a website or soda.
It doesn't get much better than this. Especially these days.
How can they, really? Mainstream movies have become all about marketing ploys with characters designed to adorn a Taco Bell cup, and rehashing of ideas and franchises we've already seen from the last few decades. We're stuck with movies that cost no less than $12 on a good day, and are using 3D as a means to keep us in the theaters and away from our home theaters. Is it little wonder why people have grown cynical? Doesn't a "Part 3" mean that we're just getting more of the same, even with a pedigree as strong as Pixar's? No. It doesn't. And that's where something very different sets in.
The most jarring realization is that Toy Story 3 is set in real-time. It's not the animated character that remains ageless. Andy has grown up with us, and like us, has become an adult as well. He's even voiced by his (also grown) original voice actor, and it puts it even more into perspective.
But toys don't age. Sure, Woody, Buzz and the gang have a few paint scuffs here and there, but they remain true to themselves. But times have changed. Andy's toy room is paired down to the surviving "favorites" who made the cut past the garage sales or getting lost or broken. Some old friends are gone and briefly twinge sadly upon the character's memories when the names are said, but there's something more. All they want is to be played with and simply feel their human friend's touch after years of neglect.
If Toy Story 3 sounds like a depressing film, it isn't. There are some wonderful characters. The old toys are still as vibrant and funny as ever, the new toys (such as a fabulously metrosexual Ken doll and a creepy cymbal monkey) are hilarious new additions to the cast, and as bitter as a stuffed bear can be for an enemy, there's a real level of sympathy for what made him the way he is.
And that's the thing about Toy Story 3. It's a love story. And a coming of age story. And a story about the fears of losing someone, or being rejected or abandoned, and the need to be useful and loved by someone. And it's a story about friends sticking together, because in this world, that's all they have.
The beginning aspect of the story is standard for Toy Story 3 is a familiar "The toys get separated from Andy and must find their way home" story, but it's the journey there that's different, and of all the characters, Woody has matured the most.
Gone is the spoiled, jealous "favorite" who retains a conscience, and later loses sight of his priorities and duties to be there for Andy. He's older, and wiser. He understands that he not only has to be there for his human friend, but his toy friends as well.
Buzz is no different. From delusional hero to realizing what he is, becoming comfortable with that, and providing his unwavering support, Buzz shows a new side as well. He's certainly funny, and hits his prime in this film, but he's content in what he is, and finally loosens up.
From potatoes to piggy banks to dinosaurs and restaurant squeak toys, the gang has seen a lot together, and in the final act, in easily their worst predicament yet, it struck me how "real" they had become. Like Andy, these toys were friends that I grew up with over the last 15 years. It's a powerful testament to Pixar that these little toys had dreams and deep emotions, and unwavering loyalty. Of course, you know nothing bad is going to happen to them, but the sincerity of one shared moment in the garbage dump was an amazing testament to a very pure moment of love and loyalty, and proving that how you live your life is just as important as how you prepare for your end. A day later, I still find myself pondering the implications of what I've taken from this film.
Again, this film is not a "downer" movie by any means. The ending is earned and well-deserved. Like the rest of the film, it's bittersweet and very "real", and I found myself simultaneously smiling and choking up with its resolution, and a yearning for my own stuffed and plastic friends long gone.
Pixar has again broken the mold with a brand of storytelling that can reach out to children and the child still in adults. Other films could learn a lot about Pixar's philosophy, animated or otherwise, and tell a story that comes from the heart, and not designed to promote a website or soda.
It doesn't get much better than this. Especially these days.
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