Toy Story 3

A lot of times I write and I "make do." It's alright. I think I got the point across.

And sometimes, I nail it. It's rare, but I'm capable of it. Even if the movie is just about toys. I remember a comment for this post (on that "other" site) was simply "Dude. It's Toy Story 3." (Where are you, Simon?) Yes. And good movies about love can come from anywhere.

Written at the time of the film's release...

"And if You Can't Be with the One You Love, Honey..."

One has suspected a subtle sub-text in the "Toy Story" series—every Pixar film has evoked that feeling (which is why they tower over Dreamworks and every other animation supplier and make even their rivals' three-dimensional films seem more two-dimensional) since the first film premiered (what was it?) fifteen years ago.

 

 Toy Story 3 is no less rich in sub-text. Sub-texts like the given that the toys have stayed the same, but their little owner Andy has grown up and is on his way to college by the time we hit 3; First sub-text: Change or be passed over. Any one looking for a job in these troubled times has had to be confronted with their inadequacy in some department while they're winning the daily bread. And like the toys of "Toy Story," time may be their enemy, staying consistent while the world evolves too quickly.

But, at the pace-making heart of the "Toy Story" movies has been one constant, and that is its contemplation of the nature of Love, which puts it in the same movie-case with such seminal works as Vertigo and A.I. In the first Toy Story, cowboy-doll Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks) watched in horror as the affection of his beloved Andy was supplanted by the new space-age toy Buzz Lightyear (voiced by Tim Allen). The stakes doubled in Toy Story 2 when we witnessed the discarding of cow-girl Jessie (voiced by Joan Cusack) as her owner grew up and put away childish things (see the video below). And we witnessed Woody turned from an object of play to a rarified objet collectionner, the very definition of a "trophy love." Toy Story 3 takes Jesse's plight and applies it to the entire toy corps, facing abandonment (the attic) and, worse, discarding (at the sidewalk on garbage day). The toy soldiers take action and evacuate the premises first: "Once the garbage bags come out, the army men are the first to go" barks the commander (R. Lee Ermey) before para-sailing out of Andy's bedroom window. 

 

The others are left to contemplate their fate. 
 

Play-time's over.*

There is one axiom I've held to my heart from the moment I first recognized its truth—I'm sure it originates elsewhere, but I first read it from thriller writer John D. MacDonald: "Love is not the opposite of Hate; love and hate are merely two sides of the same coin. The opposite of love is indifference."

 
There are a lot of instances of indifference on display in Toy Story 3 (though certainly not at the hands of the creative team behind it, who have filled it with pithy circumstance and finely-wrought detail in a cartoonish 3-D photo-realism**). But, so is love, in the through-line from the first movie, first warbled in Randy Newman's opening song "You've Got a Friend in Me." It is the banding together of the community, standing stuffed shirt to plasticene shell through adversity, the toys' answer to "Can't We All Just Get Along?" All the movies have centered around the toys—diverse as they are—keeping the group together, and welcoming the new. That reaches its dramatic climax here as the team locks hands as they face absolute destruction in a truly frightening version of Hell.

The forging of the community has been a theme running throughout the history of film (especially Westerns) since Edison, certainly John Ford, and we've all seen those films where the protagonist loses a family in order to gain another, sometimes not by choice. Those bonds are infused with strength to take on all comers and all challenges, but the heart of that coming-together has always been the one unofficial but over-arching Commandment: Love thy Neighbor.
 

I mentioned putting away childish things earlier. That's from The Bible (1 Corinthians 13), and looking over that verse again, I saw images spring up from Toy Story 3—"And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing," particularly.  But especially its last devastating quality in its check-list of Love's qualities, which always makes me tear up a little when I contemplate it, and I contemplate love and loss. For toys break, batteries corrode, fabric burns and plastic will melt. But Love "never faileth."
 

Love never dies.
 

To Infinity.
 

And Beyond.

 

* How many times have we said that, as adults, mourning the loss of childhood from adult responsibilities?

** But, man, you want to see Pixar push the envelope?  Check out the sophisticated opening short Day & Night, a wordless combination of 2-D and 3-D, line animation and computer graphics, filled with rich imaginative ideas and a brilliant sound design.  The work of animator Teddy Newton, this little gem, puts him at the top of exciting animators to watch.

Don't Make a Scene: Toy Story 3

The Story: More than most scenes from most movies in the last few years, this one stayed with me the longest, and still affects me to this day. I'm about to go through something that is scary. Really scary, and that I've worried about most of my life. And I'm going to go through a surgical procedure to fix it. I'm hopeful. Very hopeful.

But, the consequences of it not going well has been on my mind. And it ties in with my love of movies and appreciating them. My eyesight has been worsening ever-increasingly since I was a kid. When I first got glasses, I started putting the change in my pockets in specific ways—quarters in the little pocket, pennies in a different pocket from dimes and nickels (which I could tell the difference between in size, and the different feel of the edges). I started doing that at the age of six, and I've always done it. Just in case, I go blind. The surgery will replace the lenses in my eyes, first the right one, then the left. If it works, I'll have great sight...for the first time in decades. But, if it doesn't...

But, I'm hopeful. And it needs to be done. But, it's scary. All the "what-if's..."  And, I was thinking on the eve of my surgery, what's a scary scene to put up here. Well, this one is really scary.

And it's from Toy Story 3.

But man, is it brutal. And beautiful. And tragic. And weak. And brave. This one sticks like Bambi's mother. Or E.T. It has the poignancy of doom of the final looks exchanged between Bonnie and Clyde. And The Wild Bunch. It crashes through the Five Stages of Grief in a very brief period of time. And does so—which I particularly love—with almost no dialogue. It's all pictures and expressions.

And it's in a freaking KID's movie. ABOUT TOYS!

Yes. Yes. All true. These Pixar folks do NOT mess around.

So many elements combine to make this scene memorable—the potential finality of it, and the eventual realization by Our Hero Toys that "this is it," no matter how much collaboration they can muster, how much plastic brio can be displayed, the Inevitable can not be prevented. They've been busted up, individually and as a group, becoming repaired one way or another. But not this time. This is extinction. There is no way out, just an inexorable slide to nothingness in a fiery pit that would have Satan reaching for the sunscreen.*  

And the only solution—the ONLY solution—is to face it together. If they're going out, they will give each other their last measure of comfort, and the last shot here is a collection of tableaux that reminds one of the clustered gatherings in a Renaissance painting—a Pixar version of Brueghel. Another example of how the studio excels, pushes the envelope, and break expectations—if never (really) hearts.

The Set-Up:  Altercations and alliances have conspired to separate and pull the toys together during their temporary banishment to the Sunnyside Daycare facility.  Now, back together, they have banded together to help the crusty teddy bear Lotso escape a shredder at the dump, but they find themselves on another conveyor leading to an incinerator. Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) and Woody (Tom Hanks) help Lotso (Ned Beatty) get to the all-important "Stop" switch, but the duplicitous bear, leaves them...to their Fate.

Action!

The Toys YELL as they tumble off the belt...

EXT. INCINERATOR HOPPER - NIGHT

The Toys land in a giant vortex of trash being sucked down into the glowing eye of an incinerator.

It’s chaos -- trash tumbles over itself as sparks and ashes fly through the air.  The ROAR is overwhelming.

Woody stands and starts trying to climb out. 

The Toys do the same, climbing desperately, fighting against the trash tumbling into the vortex of fire. 

They slip, fall, get up and slip again. 

It’s a nightmare -- no matter how fast they climb, they inexorably slide backwards. 

Rex slides past Woody, towards the incinerator.

REX Ahhhhhh!

WOODY Rex!!!

Woody grabs Rex’s hand, slides further toward the inferno.

They are all being pulled inescapably downward.

There’s no way out.  Jessie looks at Buzz.

JESSIE Buzz...!  What do we do?

 Buzz looks at her.

He reaches out, takes her hand.

Jessie grabs Bullseye’s hoof. 

Slinky takes Hamm’s hand. 

Hamm reaches out to Rex. 

The Potato Heads hold each other.

Mr. Potato Head grabs Rex.

Buzz reaches out to Woody...

Woody takes Buzz’s hand, and the circle is complete.

As they approach the vortex, heat waves blast their faces.

The Toys close their eyes, turn away. 

Woody stares at the fire, shuts his eyes.  

This is the end.

Toy Story 3

Words by Michael Arndt (and John Lasseter and Andrew Stanton)

Pictures by Lee Unkrich (and hundreds of Pixar animators)

Toy Story 3 is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Disney Home Video.

* Speaking of reaching, it is one of the truly nifty things about this movie that (being in 3-D) the most effective use of that trick is the shot here where Buzz reaches out to Woody.