The last in the line (Toy Story 3)

In my ongoing effort to document my year, I decided when I started this blog that I would write short reviews of the books, movies and cultural performances that I encountered. In this case, I've just seen last year's blockbuster, "Toy Story 3", and I was touched by the emotional punch of this film.

It is premised on a milestone that was bound to occur sooner or later. The child was naturally destined to grow up and leave behind childish things, by which I am referring not only to the emotional dependence all children have on their parents but also on the hidden life that cultivated when young, when they were freer to explore their curiosity and to give in to the seductions of free-wheeling narrative.

There is an energy in the opening sequence that I can only dimly recall from my own childhood, but that still seems recognizable. When I was young and we were living in an apartment block, I have a memory of playing with a pair of branches and imagining that it was the steering wheel of a magnificent car. It naturally seemed to me that this steering wheel should be singular, and what would lend it this characteristic? Setting it on fire, of course. And so I did to the wood branches, burning myself in the process. It all seemed somehow necessary at the time.

The boy of this series, Andy, is now a seventeen year old and is going off to college. He knows that he will be entering a new world and he is thus faced with the necessity of putting away his things at home. His toys he keeps in a chest, and these toys have not been played with for a long time, as the characters themselves lament. The plot is thus premised on the necessity of making a transition, and we have all gone through that phase. It also plays with the issue of evolving family dynamics, and just as the child recalibrates his relationship with his family, we are faced with the internal dynamics of the evolving family unit. Yes, this assortment of toys do constitute a family, filled with compelling, funny, irritating and, ultimately, familiar characters, and we have always known it.

After setting up the premise of seperation the plot seems to devolve into a series of action sequences. The characters are in trouble, and they need to find a way to maintain their unity and sense of purpose. This escape and rescue narrative takes center stage once again, as it has before. It reminds me at times of other thrilling movies such as the Steve McQueen standards, "Papillon" and "The Great Escape" that I saw in 80s as I was reaching that same age of adolescence.

There are many dangers to overcome and, of course, while many of the characters may waver, Woody never does. Ultimately the threat of seperation binds the characters more tightly as it always does, and gives the plot a pathos that draws the viewer firmly in.

While it may not have engaged me intellectually, I did enjoy the emotional resonance of the film. The character of Woody, the earnest, hopeful, idealistic cowboy who is voiced by Tom Hanks, represents as always the emotional heart of this constellation of characters. Once again the movie studio Pixar has carefully crafted a story that, while not necessarily novel, is still nonetheless engaging, familiar and thrilling. It was only a matter of time before we were bound to encounter a group of evil toys who were bent on exploiting Woody and family. The film appeals to a basic primordial need we all have to protect our community and our family, gaining as we do a sense of belonging that is so essential to our identity. We are all threatened by the idea of disposability, and commercial culture at its very heart reduces everything to a commodity that is put into circulation and is subject to exploitation. (Why do I have the feeling of delving into issues of class consciousness?)

I don't often see children's films, but I do make an exception for Pixar. I wasn't always receptive to animation in my adult years, but I've had time to reevaluate my position. I've long been a fan of Japanese animation, ever since I used to watch reruns of the series "Speed Racer" back in the early 70s.

With my discovery of the works of Hayao Miyazaki in the 90s, I've come to appreciate more fully the artistry of this medium as it is practiced by selected creators. Animators shouldn't strive for the appearance of traditional cinema, but they can and should draw on universal narrative techniques. It is natural to recognize that animators work with a different palette than other artists. Storytelling, however, is universal, and this film was captures some of the fears we feel as members of outcast communities in an age in which communities are more narrow than they have ever been.

Behind the rivalries, the envy and the anxieties, we have also a wish for finding a new home. I can't help but view it as a parable for those of us, all of us in reality, who feel despair at the fundamental emptiness of commercial society and the sterile demarcation of interest groups and targeted demographics who are analyzed and even nurtured with the purpose of creating a market for new products. Are we also disposable products ourselves, carefully crafted and molded under the strictures of advertising and market manipulation to service the needs of corporate society?

Ironically, I can't help but reflect that this message is delivered by means a supremely commercial film. I don't know whether this is meant to be subversive or whether I am meant to more fully acknowledge the seductions of capitalist society.