Here be spoilers.
I remember when my oldest son was about nine and his best friend was a stuffed animal called "Big Bear." He dressed it, slept with it, even buckled it into the seatbelt when they rode together in the car. Adults sometimes see this kind of play as being very simple. We forget that the child involved is often emotionally connected to that toy in a very real way. Toy Story 3, like all its predecessor films, reminds us of this connection.*
I remember when my oldest son was about nine and his best friend was a stuffed animal called "Big Bear." He dressed it, slept with it, even buckled it into the seatbelt when they rode together in the car. Adults sometimes see this kind of play as being very simple. We forget that the child involved is often emotionally connected to that toy in a very real way. Toy Story 3, like all its predecessor films, reminds us of this connection.*
The film picks up years after the last installment. We don't really know all that has transpired since, but Andy's room looks dramatically different and the toys we've come to cheer for wait out their days in the dark confines of a forgotten toy box. Always the optimist, Woody the Cowboy tries to assure the other toys that, despite appearances, Andy still loves them. When the surviving toys are mistakenly donated to a daycare center where they are mauled daily by out-of-control toddlers, Woody decides to escape and return home to Andy... even if this means living out the rest of his existence in a cardboard box in the attic. The other toys are not disloyal, but they perhaps see more clearly that their time with this boy is over. They would rather be manhandled by strangers than forgotten by their owner. Most of the movie deals with Woody trying to spring the remaining toys from the gulag-like daycare which is ruled over by a plush toy who looks a lot like a tattered Care Bear.
The brilliance behind Toy Story 3's plot is that it's not really about a group of toys fretting over the loss of their relevancy. It's a story about the fleeting nature of childhood. The angst that the toys express through all three films, and which Woody constantly tries to allay, is that Andy will eventually outgrow them. By Toy Story 3, that recurring fear is a reality. Andy is now seventeen and about to embark on his college career, leaving behind the much smaller collection of toys that he's kept mostly out of nostaglia. Woody sees it differently. The fact that he, Buzz, Jessie, Rex, Slinky Dog, Hamm, Buttercup and Mr. and Mrs. Potatohead have escaped the donation box and the trash can is proof to him that Andy is still devoted. But Woody says all this while simultaneously acknowledging how many other toys have vanished from Andy's room over the years, to be replaced by a stereo, laptop, guitar and the other trappings of young adulthood. The audience knows that Woody is naive, but we can still appreciate his loyalty.
The moment when Woody truly realizes that he's lost Andy comes near the end of the film, when the cowboy silently watches from a cardboard box as the young man's mother bursts into tears at the sight of his now-empty room. Woody realizes that the fear of Andy growing up isn't just something the toys feel, but something that is shared by both Andy and his mother. The final scenes of the movie are particularly poignant as Andy reconciles the loss of his childhood by passing along his beloved toys to a little girl named Bonnie. This painful but selfless act gives the toys a new lease on life while shutting the door on Andy's childhood. (It's also a clever device on that part of the filmmakers... paving the way for Toy Story 4.) The producers of Toy Story 3 should be commended for not providing the predictably happy ending many expect from animated films. Pixar films are often as innovative in their storytelling as they are in their animation, giving us emotionally complex characters who are often flawed or suffering. It's might be a bit risky for the producers to end the film on such a bittersweet note, but I for one am glad they did it. The end of childhood is, afterall, bittersweet.
The brilliance behind Toy Story 3's plot is that it's not really about a group of toys fretting over the loss of their relevancy. It's a story about the fleeting nature of childhood. The angst that the toys express through all three films, and which Woody constantly tries to allay, is that Andy will eventually outgrow them. By Toy Story 3, that recurring fear is a reality. Andy is now seventeen and about to embark on his college career, leaving behind the much smaller collection of toys that he's kept mostly out of nostaglia. Woody sees it differently. The fact that he, Buzz, Jessie, Rex, Slinky Dog, Hamm, Buttercup and Mr. and Mrs. Potatohead have escaped the donation box and the trash can is proof to him that Andy is still devoted. But Woody says all this while simultaneously acknowledging how many other toys have vanished from Andy's room over the years, to be replaced by a stereo, laptop, guitar and the other trappings of young adulthood. The audience knows that Woody is naive, but we can still appreciate his loyalty.
The moment when Woody truly realizes that he's lost Andy comes near the end of the film, when the cowboy silently watches from a cardboard box as the young man's mother bursts into tears at the sight of his now-empty room. Woody realizes that the fear of Andy growing up isn't just something the toys feel, but something that is shared by both Andy and his mother. The final scenes of the movie are particularly poignant as Andy reconciles the loss of his childhood by passing along his beloved toys to a little girl named Bonnie. This painful but selfless act gives the toys a new lease on life while shutting the door on Andy's childhood. (It's also a clever device on that part of the filmmakers... paving the way for Toy Story 4.) The producers of Toy Story 3 should be commended for not providing the predictably happy ending many expect from animated films. Pixar films are often as innovative in their storytelling as they are in their animation, giving us emotionally complex characters who are often flawed or suffering. It's might be a bit risky for the producers to end the film on such a bittersweet note, but I for one am glad they did it. The end of childhood is, afterall, bittersweet.
