Earlier this week I was giving a bath to my son, Henry. Henry is an enthusiastic bather, always looking for new games. He found his policeman action figure and stood him on the rim of the tub. Thrusting his right arm thrust skyward, in his most “grown up” voice, Henry declared, “To Infinity and Beyond!”
The policeman fell over. Pause.
I grinned. “That’s not flying…” I said.
A grin exploded across Henry’s beautiful face. “It’s falling…with style!” he yelled.
Henry has discovered Toy Story. It is his first movie, and he adores it. My wife and I could hardly be more pleased. If we’re going to have to watch something five gajillion times, we’re thrilled it will be something as wonderful as Toy Story.
Piqued by the Henry’s love of the original, we rented Toy Story 3 that night. Having enjoyed the first two greatly, I expected to like it. I was unprepared, however, for the depth of my reaction. At the film’s end I was a quivering mess, and wept several other times as well. I also laughed so hard at one point I had to stop the movie (if you have not seen what happens to Buzz when his Spanish setting is inadvertently turned on, you should run to a video store immediately).
These two responses, from these two audiences, are very telling. A two-year old quoting the film before bed, the parents overwhelmed by the same saga a couple of hours later. How many films engender those kinds of responses from even a single age? It made me wonder – is it possible that the Toy Story films are underrated?
It seems unlikely at first glance. Toy Story and its sequels have all been mammoth hits. The critical acclaim has been close to universal. Indeed, many already acknowledge the films as classics. But I still wonder if maybe there isn’t a hint of condescension in the praise, as if the critics were saying, “It’s great for what it is.”
The implication is that however smart and entertaining the Toy Story films are, they lack something that “serious” movies have. That is why critics are kind to the Toy Story movies, but seem to show none of the enthusiasm they show for “serious” films.
Take for example Winter’s Bone. Winter’s Bone is a classic indie darling, a big hit at Sundance that was released to rapturous reviews earlier this year.
The praise is well earned. Winter’s Bone has a superb lead performance, and is a beautiful evocation of a very particular and fascinating culture, the hill people of the Ozark Mountains,
That said, it must also be acknowledged that Winter’s Bone is - how shall we put this? - a little boring. It occasionally falls in love with atmosphere at the expense of plot development. When catharsis comes at the end, the mechanics and results are a bit fuzzy (to be honest, I’m still not exactly sure what happened).
Toy Story 3, on the other hand, never takes a wrong step. It is smart and funny and touching throughout. But it is also much, much more than that.
For example, take the following scene:
After escaping from the dump, the toys find themselves sliding down a funnel into a blazing fire. They scramble desperately, trying to escape certain doom. Then Mrs. Potatohead, for no apparent reason, stops. She takes Mr. Potatohead’s hand and looks in his eyes. They smile. He stops as well. They hold hands, and slide downward.
The other toys see this and follow suit, each one with its own moment of realization and acceptance. The final shot, of all the toys holding hands as they slide down into the fiery pit, their eyes filled with terror and love, is devastating.
I thought of 9/11 watching this scene. I have talked to several people who felt the same way. It is a very disturbing but truly beautiful image. And that isn’t the only moment with that kind of power.
Later, Andy is dropping off his toys at a little girl’s house (I don’t think I’m giving too much away to say that the toys do not all burn to death. That will have to wait for the Lars Von Trier remake). Andy has planned to give away all his toys except Woody, whom he wants to take to college. But the little girl loves Woody and doesn’t want him to go. Andy resists, but then you see the recognition dawning on his face. His childhood is over. Keeping Woody as some kind of memento will do nothing to change that. Woody will be much better off with this lovely little girl. So he plays fervently with his toys with the girl one final time, then drives away.
As the toys watch Andy leave, it is both sad and beautiful. They have loved Andy his whole life. He has always been the center of their world. But they too need to let go. They take each other’s hands, and walk towards their new house.
So I ask again – what exactly does Toy Story 3 lack? It deals powerfully with the some of the most important issues in life – acceptance of wrenching change, the limits of love and its redemptive power, the mortality of all things. If these questions and themes aren’t the material of great art, what is?
And if that isn’t enough, there’s a Ken doll fashion show that is so funny I spit out my soup. What else could you possibly want from a film?
I’ve often wondered if you can be aware of a golden age while it was happening. When Motown was putting out new miracles every week, did people know how special it was? Did cinephiles in the 70’s know that American movies were in a full renaissance?
I think Pixar has quietly achieved something on this level. The movies they have made are so wonderful it has almost become routine. We have come to expect greatness. But we should never take greatness for granted. It always ends sooner or later, and we miss it when it’s gone. So let me say it loud and clear-
Toy Story 3 is great art, whether it’s recognized as such or not.
A grin exploded across Henry’s beautiful face. “It’s falling…with style!” he yelled.
Henry has discovered Toy Story. It is his first movie, and he adores it. My wife and I could hardly be more pleased. If we’re going to have to watch something five gajillion times, we’re thrilled it will be something as wonderful as Toy Story.
Piqued by the Henry’s love of the original, we rented Toy Story 3 that night. Having enjoyed the first two greatly, I expected to like it. I was unprepared, however, for the depth of my reaction. At the film’s end I was a quivering mess, and wept several other times as well. I also laughed so hard at one point I had to stop the movie (if you have not seen what happens to Buzz when his Spanish setting is inadvertently turned on, you should run to a video store immediately).
These two responses, from these two audiences, are very telling. A two-year old quoting the film before bed, the parents overwhelmed by the same saga a couple of hours later. How many films engender those kinds of responses from even a single age? It made me wonder – is it possible that the Toy Story films are underrated?
It seems unlikely at first glance. Toy Story and its sequels have all been mammoth hits. The critical acclaim has been close to universal. Indeed, many already acknowledge the films as classics. But I still wonder if maybe there isn’t a hint of condescension in the praise, as if the critics were saying, “It’s great for what it is.”
The implication is that however smart and entertaining the Toy Story films are, they lack something that “serious” movies have. That is why critics are kind to the Toy Story movies, but seem to show none of the enthusiasm they show for “serious” films.
Take for example Winter’s Bone. Winter’s Bone is a classic indie darling, a big hit at Sundance that was released to rapturous reviews earlier this year.
The praise is well earned. Winter’s Bone has a superb lead performance, and is a beautiful evocation of a very particular and fascinating culture, the hill people of the Ozark Mountains,
That said, it must also be acknowledged that Winter’s Bone is - how shall we put this? - a little boring. It occasionally falls in love with atmosphere at the expense of plot development. When catharsis comes at the end, the mechanics and results are a bit fuzzy (to be honest, I’m still not exactly sure what happened).
Toy Story 3, on the other hand, never takes a wrong step. It is smart and funny and touching throughout. But it is also much, much more than that.
For example, take the following scene:
After escaping from the dump, the toys find themselves sliding down a funnel into a blazing fire. They scramble desperately, trying to escape certain doom. Then Mrs. Potatohead, for no apparent reason, stops. She takes Mr. Potatohead’s hand and looks in his eyes. They smile. He stops as well. They hold hands, and slide downward.
The other toys see this and follow suit, each one with its own moment of realization and acceptance. The final shot, of all the toys holding hands as they slide down into the fiery pit, their eyes filled with terror and love, is devastating.
I thought of 9/11 watching this scene. I have talked to several people who felt the same way. It is a very disturbing but truly beautiful image. And that isn’t the only moment with that kind of power.
Later, Andy is dropping off his toys at a little girl’s house (I don’t think I’m giving too much away to say that the toys do not all burn to death. That will have to wait for the Lars Von Trier remake). Andy has planned to give away all his toys except Woody, whom he wants to take to college. But the little girl loves Woody and doesn’t want him to go. Andy resists, but then you see the recognition dawning on his face. His childhood is over. Keeping Woody as some kind of memento will do nothing to change that. Woody will be much better off with this lovely little girl. So he plays fervently with his toys with the girl one final time, then drives away.
As the toys watch Andy leave, it is both sad and beautiful. They have loved Andy his whole life. He has always been the center of their world. But they too need to let go. They take each other’s hands, and walk towards their new house.
So I ask again – what exactly does Toy Story 3 lack? It deals powerfully with the some of the most important issues in life – acceptance of wrenching change, the limits of love and its redemptive power, the mortality of all things. If these questions and themes aren’t the material of great art, what is?
And if that isn’t enough, there’s a Ken doll fashion show that is so funny I spit out my soup. What else could you possibly want from a film?
I’ve often wondered if you can be aware of a golden age while it was happening. When Motown was putting out new miracles every week, did people know how special it was? Did cinephiles in the 70’s know that American movies were in a full renaissance?
I think Pixar has quietly achieved something on this level. The movies they have made are so wonderful it has almost become routine. We have come to expect greatness. But we should never take greatness for granted. It always ends sooner or later, and we miss it when it’s gone. So let me say it loud and clear-
Toy Story 3 is great art, whether it’s recognized as such or not.