I mention this because January’s when I have to find projects to keep myself occupied. And this year, I figured I’d celebrate the 25th anniversary of one of cinema’s greatest franchises. While I have plenty of nostalgic memories, each entry released at a big turning point in my life, discussing them in-depth has been difficult for the longest time. But since I figured I’d do it anyway, let’s talk the Toy Story franchise.
Heads up, there’ll be spoilers. If you haven’t seen any of them, please do (they’re fantastic, by the way.)
Toy Story
A lot was riding on this movie’s success. Not only was this the first Pixar movie, it was also the first feature-length movie made in CGI. A lot could’ve gone wrong, and a lot almost did. Ignoring the Black Friday reel, which turned Woody into an irredeemable prick, the film had heavy re-writes and revisions before the animation process started. It’s not every day that you see Joss Whedon on a Pixar production, but Pixar was desperate. No one had faith in this film, making it all-the-more impressive that it worked.
The story follows a group of toys in a kid’s house. Andy loves his toys, but his favourite is a cowboy named Woody. His toys also have secret lives, and when Woody meets Buzz Lightyear, who immediately steals Andy’s affections, he get jealous. This jealousy reaches a fever-pitch when Woody knocks Buzz out the bedroom window and is branded a monster. After a series of miscommunications, Woody and Buzz end up with Sid Phillips, a kid who tortures toys for fun. Desperate to get home before Andy moves, Woody and Buzz must put aside their bickering and work together to escape.
Like most Pixar movies, Toy Story has a lot of plot wrapped up in a simple story. When I first saw this in theatres, at the tender age of 5, the story’s depth actually blew me away. I was used to Disney movies being musicals, and here was a big-budget feature from them was more adult. Ignoring the jokes, many of which flew by my head, an animated film tackling existentialism, the fears of abandonment, neglect and jealousy was mind-blowing. An animated movie doesn’t have to be about cutesy animals singing?! Whoah!
For the longest time, this was my most-watched Pixar film. I’d rent it when it came out on VHS, often multiple times, and I’d watch it in the car on the way to-and-from school in carpool. Even when I went on my Pixar buying spree in 2011, where I purchased all 11 of Pixar’s then movies in one-fell-swoop, I made sure that Toy Story was the first that I searched out. Sufficed to say, 9 years later, I still don’t regret it. So how does it hold up?
Well…pretty decently! To be fair, parts of it, like the animation, are dated, and the horror elements are more funny than scary now, but the core story’s really strong. This is about two rivals, a cowboy and an astronaut, learning to become friends. It’s shaky, and oftentimes uncomfortable, but it’s relatable. Anyone who’s had enemies can instantly relate to the shameful bickering of Woody and Buzz.
One detail that routinely gets overlooked now is how much of a jerk Woody is here. Buzz’s doltish brainwashing isn’t much better, but he’s at least likeable. Woody, on the other hand, is rude, selfish and incredibly stubborn. The film gives him layers, and you realize why he’s jealous of Buzz during the “Strange Things” montage, but it’s an interesting choice for Pixar to have you sympathize with what’d be a villain in any other story.
Speaking of Buzz, his characterization brings up questions that my almost-30 year-old brain has never been able to comprehend: why does Buzz think he’s a space ranger? Isn’t he a toy? And, if he thinks he’s the real deal, why does he act like a toy around Andy? Better yet, did Woody initially think he was a real cowboy? I know you’re not supposed to overthink contrivances like these, but you have to wonder…
And the rest of the cast? They’re all solid. Rex is the loveable-yet-self-conscious dolt, Slinky is the loyal friend, Mr. Potato Head is the distrusting one and Hamm is pretentious and sarcastic. They’re all fleshed-out, and you can see their personalities. My one gripe, unfortunately, is Bo Peep. Not only is she the only female character, but she does little more than act as Woody’s love-interest. This isn’t to slight the film, but it’s indicative of a pattern that Pixar’s been trying to atone for recently.
The real high-point of the movie is the second-half, which takes place at Sid’s house. Everything there is gold, even if the scary moments are no longer scary. Sid’s a monster, and the stuff he does to toys is unforgivable, but you can’t help wondering if his upbringing is partly to blame. His mother lets him get away with dangerous stunts, while his father’s practically absent. Even his sister, Hannah, has a twisted side, as demonstrated when she torments Sid in the third-act.
But the defining moment of the second-half is when Buzz finds out that he’s a toy. The scene of Buzz leaping to the window and falling, concluding with his arm popping out of its socket, is crushing, and it forces Buzz into a stupor. Buzz eventually gets a hold of himself for the finale, which is non-stop tension, but it’s hard not to sympathize with him anyway. Even in 2020, that part holds up.
Toy Story only half-holds up because, dated animation aside, I’ve seen what Pixar has done since. There’s no denying the movie’s importance, it changed the industry almost overnight, but it’s been outdone since. Even the sequels, while lacking the cultural impact, have pushed what’s possible more. This movie feels like baby steps.
That said, the film has the best closing joke in anything Pixar’s ever done.
Toy Story 2
People frequently cite Toy Story 2 as a “miraculous accident”. Looking back on its troubled production, it’s easy to see why: it was supposed to be a direct-to-video sequel under a different studio, and Pixar had to fight for it. The complications surrounding this fight gave them 9 months the rework the entire film. To top it off, the film’s file was accidentally deleted, only to be recovered at the last second via a spare copy from an animator’s home computer. Everything was riding on this movie, the first sequel Pixar had done, to succeed. Two decades later, does it hold up?
Taking place roughly a year after the first movie, Woody’s world crashes when his arm is accidentally ripped by Andy. During a rescue attempt of another toy, Woody gets stolen by the owner of Al’s Toy Barn, who intends to sell him to a museum in Tokyo. Woody soon discovers that he was the face of Woody’s Round-Up, a hit 50’s TV show that was cancelled prematurely. He also find three toys, Jessie, Bullseye and Stinky Pete, that were abandoned and are desperate to feel whole. With his newfound fame at the back of his mind, Woody has to make a decision: should he travel to Tokyo, or return to Andy and risk being junked?
Toy Story 2 is still a Toy Story movie, even with its opening cinematic (and fake-out) suggesting something grander. The toys follow the rules of the first movie, there’s still an Andy scene, and the existential dread of being a toy is still present. The only difference is that, being a sequel, the cast’s already set-up and the story can go in a new direction. Because that’s what a good sequel does.
And go that new direction indeed! Whereas the original film was about sibling rivalry, this film’s about the perils of being outgrown. We see it in Woody’s nightmare scene (which is terrifying), but also in the main conflicts: is it worth being played with when your owner eventually outgrows you? How long is your shelf-life? And is being played with all that matters? The movie never answers these questions, leaving them hanging, but it suggests that life’s best fulfilled with others.
As far as characters go, not much has changed, but also a lot has changed. Woody, that stubborn jerk, faces a new conflict: his own mortality. Toys are basically immortal, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fear abandonment. This is on full-display when Woody confronts the Round-Up Crew, three toys who’ve been cast aside and are desperate for value. One of them in particular, Stinky Pete, is so desperate that he even gets drastic when Woody decides to take all of them to Andy, making him the first in a line of surprise villains. Another one, Jessie, has a tragic backstory set to “When She Loved Me”. It’s not the saddest moment in Pixar history, or even a Toy Story movie, but it’s hard to not feel for her.
Speaking of characters, Buzz gets more to do this time around, as do Slinky, Rex, Hamm and Mr. Potato Head. They end up at Al’s Toy Barn while searching for Woody, and their antics are the film’s funniest moments. Whether it’s causing a traffic jam, Buzz discovering a whole aisle of Buzz Lightyear toys, or Buzz and friends facing off against Emperor Zurg atop an elevator, I can’t tell you how many laughs ensued. They even parodied Jurassic Park, the OT Star Wars movies and Goldfinger! How can you not love that?
I do have, like the previous movie, some questions that aren’t answered: do all Buzz Lightyear models think that they’re not toys at first? And if they think they’re not toys, then did Woody once-upon-a-time think that too? Speaking of, how could Woody not know his origins? Did he have a bout of existential amnesia? I’m overthinking this, but it’s not unreasonable to ponder all these questions.
The movie has many moments that hold up better than the first film. I think my favourite is when Woody’s repaired. It’s immensely satisfying to watch, and the film even takes the opportunity to jab at the film’s 9-month production cycle. Another one is the aforementioned elevator fight between Zurg and Buzz. So many great lines are uttered, and the payoff’s both satisfying and funny. The climax at the airport’s also pretty good.
Toy Story 2 is the MVP of the Toy Story franchise. Is it the best entry? No, though it’s more enjoyable than the first. But it definitely takes the franchise in a new, exciting direction while expanding on its predecessor. It showed that Pixar was a force to be reckoned with, and not only in pushing computer animation forward. It also holds up quite well…even if its human models are still a little creepy.
Incidentally, Toy Story 2 also kicked off the dance number trope at the end of kid’s movies.
Toy Story 3
Toy Story 3 had a lot riding on it. Like its predecessors, its production was shaky, being constantly delayed. It was also a capper of a then-trilogy, and trilogy endings tend to be hit-or-miss. Add in the movie working around one of its voices refusing to return, and another one dying, and it was clear that the movie would either be amazing, or awful. Personally, I was hopeful and excited for it.
Beginning with an intense flashback, the film reintroduces Andy and his toys before fast-forwarding 10 years. Andy’s ready for college, and he’s faced with a dilemma: does he take his toys with him, does he leave them in his attic, or does he donate them? When his toys end up at Sunnyside Daycare by accident, Woody has to figure out how to get them back home. Complicating matters is Sunnyside not being as sunny as it appears, especially under the leadership of a toy bear that smells like strawberries. And who’s this Bonnie kid, and why does she have such a fascination with Woody?
From the get-go, you know the theme here is about letting go. Pixar’s core audience was probably around the same age as Andy (I was), so the movie doesn’t hold back: want a sweeping adventure story? You got it. A dark movie about escaping a prison? You got it too. A movie with an ending that’ll hit you where it hurts? You got that as well.
Give Toy Story 3 credit! Not only is it heartfelt and emotional, it’s also really dark and depressing. But while a lesser movie would fail at these elements separately, this one manages to work with them together. When the film wants to be sad and heartfelt, it is. When it wants to scare and/or freak you out, it does that. And when it wants to do both simultaneously? Oh boy!
Perhaps I should zoom-in on examples. For the sad and heartfelt, that not all of Andy’s toys are still there is a great place to start. As Woody mentions, Etch and Wheezy have both long since been donated, and those were characters we’d gotten to like! Rex adding Bo Peep to that list shows how painful it is for Woody to acknowledge that loss. At the time it seemed like this was it for Bo, and that hurt.
On the freaky, the little kids “playing” with the toys is a good place to go. Sure, it’s kinda funny in hindsight, but between the music, lighting, camerawork and animation, you’d be convinced these toddlers are monsters coming to ruin any peace and sanity. With the way they recklessly rip apart Mr. Potato Head and shove his pieces up their noses, or chew on Buzz’s helmet, or roughhouse with Bullseye, it’s both torturous and hilarious. It also sets the stakes for escaping Sunnyside, which’d only get higher as the film progresses.
Combining the two is the incinerator scene at the Tri-County dump, which is where the climax takes place. It’s a nonstop assault, and it culminates in an intense and painful moment where the toys almost get burned to a crisp. Even now, 10 year later, I still feel uncomfortable, despite knowing how it’ll end! Talk about heavy! But that’s the movie.
Not much has changed with the old cast, but the newer characters, as usual, add to and build this world. Bonnie’s toys are all delightfully-quirky (the film even includes a Totoro plushie), but it’s the Sunnyside gang that make this movie. Whether it’s Ken’s metrosexual quirks, Big Baby being the equivalent of a silent prison guard, or Lotso as the antagonist with a tragic past, they’re hard to forget. I take issue with the queerphobic subtext surrounding Ken, though: I get that it was 2010, but the jokes surrounding his effeminate nature haven’t aged well.
Speaking of characters, seeing Buzz revert to his old self is a funny callback to the original film. It not only makes sense, he’s switched to Demo Mode, but it’s interesting seeing him as a villain. His Spanish Mode’s even better, being a humorous foil to Woody for Jessie’s affections and providing levity during the escape. And it’s necessary, as there are way too many close calls! Seriously, what gives?!
I can’t not mention the film’s finale. It’s a classic passing of the torch moment, and fans are divided on it. I get the criticism, as it’s hokey, but remember that: a. Andy’s always been sentimental. b. This scene actually gives him closure. Considering that Andy’s been exempt from developing in prior films, having him learn to let go of his toys, Woody especially, is welcomed. It’s not quite a tearjerker, but it comes close.
That’s the beauty of Toy Story 3: even if you don’t love it, it caps off the then-trilogy in a fitting way. It’s funny, heartbreaking, smart and leaves a mark. Personally, I love it. It came out at an important time in my early-adulthood, and nothing can take that away. And I’m not alone on that either, as the film was nominated for Best Picture at The Academy Awards. That’s pretty telling, given that the folks there don’t like animated movies.
If I have one complaint, though, and I’ve mentioned this before, it’s that Lotso’s fate feels lazy. In Toy Story, Sid has a satisfying comeuppance when his toys turn on him. In Toy Story 2, Stinky Pete has a satisfying comeuppance when he winds up in the backpack of a kid who likes doodling. So how does Toy Story 3 deal with Lotso? With him strapped to the front of a garbage truck. It might be funny, but it’s never felt satisfying. Even 10 years later, I wish Pixar had been a touch more creative.
But anyway, now that the franchise was “over for good”, where else was there to go?
Toy Story 4
This was “the movie that no one wanted”, even being joked about in Muppets Most Wanted. Pixar wasn’t actually planning to make another Toy Story movie, only caving when Disney pressured them per The Circle 7 Agreement. Complicating matters were, as per usual, production issues, including rewrites and a script overhaul following Rashida Jones’s departure. Even with positive reviews, I was skeptical; after all, the last movie ended wonderfully! How could you top that?
Beginning with a backstory explaining Bo Peep’s absence, Toy Story 4 picks up a year after the last one with Woody dealing with his neglect from Bonnie. Initially in denial, Woody’s life gets complicated when Bonnie’s art project, Forky, comes to life and has an existential crisis. When Forky jumps out of the window during an RV trip, Woody decides to chase after him. Along the way, he reunites with Bo, now feral and embracing being ownerless. Once Forky’s put in danger by Gabby Gabby, it’s up to Woody and Bo to rescue him.
Like its predecessors, this movie evolves the franchise in an interesting way. If the first movie set the rules, and the second and third showed the limitations, then this movie shows that the rules are flexible. A toy needn’t be tied to an owner, and sometimes that’s liberating. You can read into that as a metaphor for parenting and familial bonds, but it’s an angle I never expected from this franchise.
Speaking of, the rules get messed with here again, raising some questions, but also challenging the expectations of toy-hood. Forky and Bo, in particular, push several boundaries: can toys be art projects? Can they be lamp ornaments? What does it mean when a toy has an existential crisis? And what does it mean to be a “lost toy”?
The rules are messed with so often here that they almost become guidelines. Ignoring Forky’s existence, or “lost toys”, Buzz messes with the “humans can’t know that you’re sentient” rule a lot. I know the first film did this when Woody tormented Sid, but here it’s really let loose. How often do Bonnie’s parents question Trixie’s GPS voice? Or how the RV “has a mind of its own”?
As for characters, the new ones, once again, steal the show; in fact, save Woody, Buzz, Trixie and, maybe, Jessie, the older toys don’t do much to move the plot. Characters like Ducky and Bunny, or Duke Caboom, are the real MVPs here, and they’re so likeable and charismatic that they could easily carry a movie on their own. Even Forky, the plot catalyst, gets fleshed out beyond his angst, making a potentially one-note character into a winner. You have to give Pixar credit for that!
The central dynamic here is Woody and Bo Peep. As I mentioned before, Bo was never really interesting prior to Toy Story 4. She was sidelined in the first two movies, and the third erased her altogether. This movie fixes that, with Bo being central: she has a fleshed-out personality, she shows weaknesses, she’s self-reliant, and she goes through an arc. Her relationship with Woody also feels rich and organic, and you buy why the two were an item. I like that.
I also like how the film handles Gabby Gabby. It’d have been easy to make her into another Stinky Pete or Lotso, twist villains who meet humiliating defeats, and the film starts that way…but it makes Gabby Gabby more sympathetic. She wants an owner, and she gets one in one of two moments that made me cry. I wasn’t expecting the antagonist to have a satisfying arc, but Pixar surprised me yet again!
Speaking of, the movie’s ending was the highlight. Having Woody and Bo reunited with their friends, only to then say goodbye, was enough to make me cry again. It helped that the movie brings back every musical leitmotif in the franchise, culminating in a remixed cue from Toy Story 3. It’s another passing of the torch moment, except between toys, and the various goodbye hugs from Woody’s friends gets to me. I’m tearing up thinking about it!
There’s also plenty of comedy in Toy Story 4. My favourite gag is when Ducky and Bunny suggest ways to get the key to the storage cabinet. Aside from feeling like good improv, it keeps building. It even shows the film’s willingness to take risks, which makes it funnier. And it ends anticlimactically, which is hilarious. Not to mention, it resurfaces in the credits.
Is the movie the “best” in the franchise? No. Aside from not reaching the highs of its direct predecessor, the movie also has too many contrivances with Bo’s resurgence and the RV. The latter particularly feels contrived, as too many of the climactic plot beats involve it being in the right place. It gets tiring to swallow, essentially.
Though I can safely call it my second-favourite entry. Ignoring the photorealistic polish, something that the first two movies can no longer boast, it’s also really emotional and well-executed. Did it need to exist? No. But does it justify its existence, even adding to the franchise retroactively? Absolutely!
But please: no more Toy Story movies.
That wraps up my retrospective on these movies. Thanks for sticking it out, and I’ll see you next time!
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