TOY STORY 3
109 Minutes // USA // Pixar Animation Studios
director: Lee Unkrich / writer: Michael Arndt
Friday, June 18th, 2010 – AMC Yonge and Dundas
starring: Tom Hanks, Tim Allen & Ned Beatty
SPOILERS AHEAD
With a score of 99% on Rottentomatoes and a 91/100 on Metacritic, the term ‘masterpiece’ has already been stapled to Toy Story 3 as if an apothegm. What makes this worse is that all of the negative reviews conducted by critics (two in all thus far) have been expressed so poorly that to strip away their license to critique anything media related would be a justifiable action. Armond White’s take on the film as a mere cashgrab caused my eyes to roll so aggressively that I’m surprised to have not dislocated a retina. Then again, to assume Mr. White’s criticisms on any film as a valid dissertation would be to resign yourself to mental retardation – I know he already has. The other negative review comes by way of Cole Smithey (who?) whose main gripe is that the film isn’t happy enough and that the 3D is useless. Who does he write for? St. Joseph’s Elementary? Toss in the fact that the review wouldn’t pass for a Grade 10 reflection on any film, let alone meet the 500 word requirement and you’ve got another complete idiot doling out their perspective at the cost of the reader’s intelligence. See who I’m contending with? So in order to make my negative opinion on this film a valid one, I’ve got to jack up the wit and insight in attempt to not be coupled with these two non-critics and have us deemed “The Three Stooges”. Well, maybe you’ll do that anyway.
So let’s begin: Toy Story 3 sucks.
We begin with a grandiose set piece – Woody and Jessie are gallantly attempting to halt Mr. Potato Head and his accomplice Mrs. Potato Head from getting away with great riches that they’ve stolen from a train. It’s very eccentric and cartoonish – perfectly fine considering its the visual actualization of what’s going on in young Andy’s head when playing with his toys. This is a nice scene, if a precursor for the jarring pacing issues that will follow later on in the film because when has an adventure film opened on its biggest action scene? It isn’t too big a gripe, but when a sequel to an animated series that has presented itself as soothing and full of warmth opens on the realized hyperactive imagination of a youth, you’re bound to be thrown for a loop. It’s also malignant to the film because at no point throughout the rest of the film does a scene equal the amount of visual vigor as the opening one. There are apparent problems all over the place for this feature – the writing is ghastly, even for one that is clearly by the numbers; the editing is poor, there’s is no flow between scenes but rather a smashing together of the exciting, the comical and the dramatic; and the direction is bloated, I wasn’t much of a fan for the first feature, but give me the humble simplicity of its construction over the frenetic perspective edits and visual garishness that pushes this already off course feature even further astray from any point.
After this moment of false grandeur, the story begins. Well, not until it feels the need to lull you in the mood for the feature… you know, the one you’ve already paid to watch. Lucky for us, we get a montage of young Andy growing up through the perspective of an old camcorder with “You’ve Got A Friend” (from the original Toy Story) playing in the background. This is no doubt an attempt to duplicate the sincerity of Up’s interlude, as well as a cheap way to entice of a sense of nostalgia in its viewer. The attempts don’t stop there though because we’re exposed to several in-jokes throughout the rest of the film which only took me out of the film. Well, as out as someone partially in could be. Fortunately these jokes aren’t constant enough to be a great annoyance, but they’re still as unnecessary as back-to-back manicures. Less polished, too.
But I must deflect my attention to the plot at hand for the sake of actually reviewing the film. You see, the plot isn’t really a plot – there is no foundation from which the story stems, no deeply rooted insight that is cause for the film’s momentum – all there is in Toy Story 3 is happenstance; the only reason the story has any perpetual motion is because accidents keep happening. From the first mistake in which Andy’s mom mistakes a bag full of Andy’s toys as a bag destined for the nearby garbage truck to the moment where Andy has to say goodbye to Woody, none of the story is… well, a story. It may have the appearance of a story to someone who doesn’t logically think about it, but really, nothing here follows any sort of narrative, just a design. It’s as if Michael Arndt was given a design with which to write a film – a three act structure that’s affable and will appease the masses – but rather than write it with some semblance of intellect, he filled it with scene after scene of reckless abandonment, not caring to replicate what made the first two movies what they were: simple and to the point, but not without the ability to manage action, drama and comedy.
Now I’m hardly a fan of them (the first is very simple; the small moments of brilliance aren’t expanded on and the story is rather ordinary, the second is good and has a moral that really got to me with an intriguing narrative) but I’ve never had an issue with how they were constructed. My complaints mostly came from the poor direction or plain decisions in the story, but never because the story was without a palpable plot. All of the intentions from every character was constantly reminded to the audience, so everything they did make sense – it was what they did that furthered the story, not the misfortune of the factors around them that did.
In Toy Story, Woody tries to get rid of Buzz and the film furthers from that point – that’s the plot and that’s how it progresses. Toy Story 2 is about the internal battle that Woody faces, while the other toys follow an adventure in trying to procure and rescue Woody from the location he’s at. They’re both entirely character driven and rarely rely on the human factor – they get where they get because of themselves. That’s a plot – this is more “People mess with the toys, the toys persevere, but people keep messing with the toys, so they need keep persevering”. Even the villain in this, Lotso the Teddy Bear is hardly explained. He was loved and betrayed and now holds everything in contempt. Alright, but why? In the first film, Woody has the same problem – in the second one, too. Hell, in the same film that Lotso vilifies mankind for being entirely selfish, Andy’s toys feel the exact same hurt of being no longer wanted when they’re left on the curb, but this comes to a resolve before the end concludes. What makes the main villain of this different? Nothing. This is awful characterization through and through.
In addition, the humor and other types levity that this story contains feel either completely desperate or sorely misplaced. Lame jokes pervade the film – from the gratuitous overstatement of Ken’s flamboyancy to either ironically spoken or absolutely idiotic one-liners (ie. “that’s just another dinosaur from down the street, it’s nothing. Just another dinosaur”) to the unctuous miscalculation where the infants at the daycare are mangling the toys during playtime; a scene that should have played out as something horrific is interpreted as nothing more than aggressive geniality because of its terrible scoring and cute perspective edits. In fact, I only found myself laughing twice – once during Mr. Pita Bread Head and the first time we meet Bonnie’s toys. This wouldn’t be such a major annoyance if it didn’t interfere with scenes of key importance. I’m speaking of the climax.
The climax: the scene where the protagonist(s) reach a point of no return – they take affirmative action and deal with the impending consequences whatever they may be. Before the climax, there is rising action – this is the long series of events that inevitably lead up to the climax. In the scene just before the climax, the toys avoid falling victim to a garbage chipper. It’s brooding, suspenseful – Woody and Buzz prove their nobility once again through yet another altruistic exploit. We build and build to that scene of no return, but then the music becomes more jovial and Rex says “I can see the light!” in his intrusive tone. I get it – it’s a moment of levity, a break in the suspense before it becomes too dire – but that doesn’t keep it from being a sorely misplaced moment. It may seem insignificant, but in watching that sequence unfold and have yet another thoughtless and unmerited tonal shift take place where it shouldn’t have, it ruins what little the film had going for it at that time and place. It took me out of one of the only scenes where I felt completely transfixed on the screen through my 3D glasses and the scene that followed (the most important scene in the entire film) wound up being absolutely paltry because of it. I felt nothing in what was (poorly) setup to be the trilogy’s most emotional moment. Utterly pathetic filmmaking.
One of the very sparse shining moments the film has to offer is Bonnie, a very happy child who loves playing with toys. She’s demure, cute, friendly – everything Boo is in Monsters, Inc. Hell, she even looks like Boo plus a few years, but that’s beside the point. The point is, she’s one of the most adorable characters ever with a personality that will stick with you. She’s the reason why the film contains any emotional resonance – bad because she’s hardly the focal point of the story, but good because without here this would be an even more abysmal effort. Eventually she becomes the safe haven for toys – only because Woody stumbled upon it (more happenstance) – and her home the objective in the later stages of the film. However, there is a glaring issue with her youthfulness and I will explain that now.
As I’m sure I’ve made clear already, this is a very inconsequential film – one that doesn’t attempt to think things through whatsoever and guides its audience into believing everything will be alright when early on it can’t help but insist that it never will be for toys on a regular basis. By assiduously mocking youth and its culture – a young garbage man is laughed at by all for his idiocies, Andy’s sister is more focused on her iPod and new technologies than her old toys (a situation that is very true to reality) – why would the audience believe that Andy’s old toys will be comfortable for more than a few more years when the end finally rolls around and they do find their place in Bonnie’s toy box? They shouldn’t, but it ends on such an effervescent scene of adoration for the plastic playthings that you’re coaxed into believing that it will be. The problem is, Bonnie will most likely grow up to be like Andy’s sister or Andy or your sister or yourself – it’s very contradictory because we’re given a false sense of closure. There’s nothing that makes Bonnie standout among her peers, nor is there any indication that she will always love these toys.
Of course everyone wants a happy ending for Woody, Buzz and the gang because they cherish them as much as Andy in his youth, but how the narrative is constructed and how it contradicts the truths of contemporary society – the ones that it preaches earlier on in the film; the ones that are completely adherent to current Western culture – is very nonsensical. When you forget that it’s about toys coming to life, you’ll notice that everything that takes place in this film and the last and the last all happen in real life. The themes are inherently human, the world is not futuristic or alternative – it’s very much believable as your own, which I’m sure you know. But when the film begins to make important claims against reality – a reality it preaches – this film shows you that it has fundamental logistic issues. It contradicts itself – I don’t know the last time I’ve said that about a film before, but this one does it.
We’re lead to believe that there is a happily ever after in this story – there isn’t, but we want to believe it so we do. Well, let me be patronizing, most of you believe it because you do. There isn’t a single person able to justify how the ending concludes the trilogy with any sort resolve that isn’t temporary. The times where kids play with plastic toys are coming to an end – technology is progressing each day, children are more in tune with the latest Apple product or video game now more than ever. In reality, five or six year old Bonnie would only elicit pleasure from her toys for a few more years before she was turned onto something more advanced. And why should Andy’s toys hold a special place in her heart when she grows older? Wouldn’t it be Mr. Pricklepants or Trixie or Buttercup? There’s no ending here and that, too, contradicts the sentiment of the story: that toys don’t want to be locked up and forgotten. But that’s their fate in this technological world. The shame is that nobody wants to admit this; the greatest shame is that the filmmakers will avoid pontificating that at any cost, be it at the trilogy’s integrity or at their own.
From its effusive beginning to its pretentious ending, Toy Story 3 states nothing and wants you to assume everything. There is no ending, just what you want to happen; there is no story, just a variety of scenes put in an illogical order begging to be made sense of; there’s nothing – it’s an empty shell awaiting an anxious fan of the series to fill it with what they desire to happen. It’s just a lie; a facade; a brightly colored placebo with a familiar taste. What occurs on screen isn’t a film – it’s a channel devised simply to trigger nostalgic thoughts. If you like the series enough and the first two films hold a special place in your heart you should love this installment – not because it’s a great film, but rather because it’s your film. It’s only as good as you want it to be, unless you pick through its incongruities like myself. Or perhaps all of this is just a facade itself – a well-worded essay no better than Armond White’s that unveils my unhappy and contemptible personage. I hope not; I’d hate to be less realized than this film.
The Cinematic Experience of Forizzer 
I disagree wholeheartedly.
While I understand your point about the opening scene, I think that you fail to understand it’s purpose. Yes, not many adventure films open with their biggest action setpiece, but this isn’t ever adventure film. The point of the scene was to show us what playtime is like from the perspective of a toy, so that we understand why they love it so much, and understand how crushed they are that they haven’t done it in years. Because of that, it had to be the most exciting action scene of the film. They spend most of it in misery because of their lack of play. Note the scene in which Bonnie plays with Woody and the others. Tonally, it’s the happiest in the film, and for good reason. A major theme of the film is that the best possible thing that could happen to a toy is for it to be played with. That scene, along with the montage that follows it, are a good way to reintroduce the audience to our characters, mainly Andy, because he plays such a big role in this one compared to the first two.
I also disagree with your complaints about the story. You may say that it failed to be as simple as the first two, but there is nothing wrong with that sort of expansion. I’m sure that critics such as yourself would, had they followed your advice, be complaining that the film was too much like it’s predecessors. Things should HAPPEN in movies. I fail to see how you thought that the film didn’t flow. I thought it did just fine in that regard, though admittedly not quite as well as the first two. “Without a palpable plot”? Sure, but it didn’t NEED one. The film was entirely character-driven, aside from the extended breakout sequence. However, I must agree that the jokes weren’t very good this time around, though a couple were alright. As for the tone of the climax, if that one line truly gave you mood whiplash, then you must be looking for things to hate. The entire point of the line was to make the dark tone that the film was about to adapt even more surprising.
I think you completely missed the point of the villain. His entire purpose was to show Andy’s toys that they were wrong about how they felt. This is basic screenwriting. How do you show distaste for an opinion? Have your villain share that opinion, of course. What makes Lotso different from Andy’s toys is that he lets his nihilism overtake him. Buzz and the others are simply unable to handle something that they knew would come one day. Lotso’s abandonment came completely out of the blue for him. Also, Lotso was so disillusioned, not because he was abandoned, that was an accident. It was because he was replaced. Andy’s toys know that Andy won’t replace them, their opinion comes purely out of resentment for being treated like garbage after all they had done for Andy. This is actually very good characterization, if you bother to look at it on more than a surface level.
As for Bonnie, I once again feel that you have missed the point. One of the points that the film was trying to make was that the toys could be loved by more than one person, and that they didn’t have to completely lose their purpose once he moved on. This was a major theme in “Up” as well, the idea that life can continue even after a major loss. The audience knows that she will always love them because Andy always loved them, and they went out of their way to draw parallels between the two. Someday she will probably give the toys to another young child, and the cycle will continue.
In that regard, the film is hardly contradictory. As a child, you may have one favorite toy, but the amount of time you spent with all of them is what is important, not when you got them, or which you had longer. Your life at that age blends together, so there is no reason to suggest that Andy’s toys would be any less important to her than her own. The true sentiment of the story is that toys are loved and cared for long after their owner stops playing with them. So, of course the ending is happy, because we know that Bonnie will always care about the toys.
In fact, you seem to contradict yourself. Soon after you talk about Andy’s sister being too wrapped up in her electronics to care about her toys, you claim that nobody wants to admit to the fact that technology often overshadows toys. You don’t have to be hypocritical, you know. It’s okay to concede a point once in a while.
Finally, you claim that the film is looking only to evoke nostalgia. Well, you know what? It did. I grew up with these characters, I loved them, I saw the film twice, and I cried at the end both times. The idea of the film being an “empty shell” is more positive than anything else. Whatever we want to happen to these characters next can happen. It leaves it up to our imagination, and for the conclusion of a trilogy, that’s astounding. I dislike your sentiment that I only liked this film because of my love of the first two. I loved it completely on its own merits. I find you to be the ultimate contrarian, spending an entire paragraph condescending the two critics who disliked the film, and then going on to agree with them, if for different reasons. I respect your opinion, but, respectfully, you are wrong.
You first point is definitely valid, and no, I didn’t ever consider Toy Story 3 to be an adventure the way The Lord of the Rings is or anything of that nature. But as you know, the Toy Story films are always about a journey, this one less than the other two, fine. But there were still action-y scenes. Even the scene where they stare death in the face wasn’t as large. To me, it looked like the were trying to pump that scene up beyond the opening one in terms of visual flare and it didn’t work because there was more of it in the opener. But sure, what you say is true, but what I’m saying is because of that opening scene I couldn’t be shocked into trepidation for the characters come the scene in the later stages (well other factors played into that, but that was certainly one of them). But valid point, I just see “death” as something that is equal to or more important than a great adventure you once had. If it was their last adventure with Andy (which is wasn’t) then I’d gladly accept it to be the ‘biggest’ scene of the film because your last happy moment is perhaps more important than dying.
No, you’re misinterpreting what I’m saying. I’m not complaining about its complexities because it doesn’t have any- I’m complaining about it’s mishandling of simplicities as well as straying away from a logical narrative, one founded on principle and not coincidence – that’s what the first two features had, it isn’t that they were “simple”. Almost all of the action in the film was brought on by coincidence – perhaps a scene or two in the Daycare was actually character driven; the action in their control. That’s what the first two films were based on which is what made them flow properly. Here it was jarring with them being thrown into predicament after predicament. As for the “one line” it wasn’t just the single line. It was the entire few seconds of levity. The happy music, the way the line was spoken – it’s a cheap technique in storytelling to give a viewer some false sense of security for a moment, but all it does is bother me because I’ve grown tired of such antics. Sure that can definitely take me out of a moment. Other films have similar faults. Call it me being anal, but it’s something I’ve grown to hate – these little moments can certainly effect the bigger ones.
First, how are they proven ‘wrong’ by Lotso’s mentality? There’s a key difference between Lotso and Andy’s toys that you’re neglecting and that’s the hatred for mankind… that’s a big difference. Two different types of human betrayal. Andy’s toys believe that they will still be able to sustain happiness from playing with other kids, Lotso didn’t. The only reason Lotso decided to stay at the Daycare is because it was a place where he’d be appreciated by things that he despises; that’s something I liked about the film, that aspect of Lotso’s mentality. Anyway, you just said Lotso’s scenario is different – he was literally replaced a few days (or weeks) after he was lost. They hardly share the same approach to humanity, so while the ‘age old screenwriting trick’ is true, here it’s hardly applicable. Andy’s toys always had faith in people – that was never a question.
That’s one of my issues with the naivety of the film. Why should she? Because Andy spoke to her and they played with the toys for a few hours one day? Of course she’s cherish them for a little while, but the film didn’t make me believe this child was anything extraordinary. Very cute and adorable, but like I’ve stated, these toys will probably be relegated to some closet or attic when the child is more intrigued by other technologies. And the film wasn’t really all that about “life goes on”. Once they arrived at the Daycare, they saw how much other toys could be loved by other children – that was never in doubt. Didn’t strike me as something that was, either.
But why? Why do “we” know that she always will? No, it never makes that clear – by Andy’s sister tossing away some toys without care, the film does more to contradict it, so yes, it is contradictory. And as for myself, I can’t relate. Of all the toys I’ve had, I’ve definitely cherished more than others. The two I had longest are the two I’ve cherished most – a teddy bear and a Batman plush doll, if you’re curious. I’ve had many toys, but the ones I lulled to sleep and had by my side longest were the ones I liked most. I did like smashing my wrestling toys, but it’s those two I care most for.
Ah, I see your wit is showing. No, that’s not what I meant at all. Andy’s sister tossing away the toys is a small scene to introduce why Barbie is involved in the story; it isn’t a conceit on the filmmakers’ part that technology>toys. If they impressed that more, they’d know that their ending made no sense. The scene with Andy’s sister was practically useless outside of introducing a character – the filmmakers just didn’t think about the repercussions of having a girl playing with her iPod nonchalantly tossing away a toy would have. On me, anyway.
It’s nice that you like the film so much and I say that without any sarcasm. And you clearly have your own mind made up on how the film was to you – that’s great. However, I obviously disagree with why, but that’s fine. You have your own perspective shaped through your own experiences and I have mine – you find the series nostalgic, you grew up with it; I found the film repulsive, I was hardly enamored with the series as a tot. I viewed them again a few months ago in preparation for this sequel – right there assumes my good intentions in wanting to see this film and get the most from it. I don’t watch a film wanting to hate it, that’s a dumb waste of time.
As for your final bit, no. No to the two things you said. No because it is you that just contradicted yourself because earlier you suggested the ending is an emphatic ending – that Bonnie will love the toys for the rest of her life – but now you’re suggesting we can make up the ending for ourselves. Well it’s one or the other – I find it to be the other and I find the other to be completely asinine. The second no comes through with your comparing me to the other critics. Yes, we all dislike the film, but for abundantly different reasons – I don’t think I agree with either of them whatsoever, it’s just a coincidence that we all wound up with the same distaste for it. As you should know by loving this franchise, it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.
But above all, I do (and again without any sarcasm) appreciate your reply, even if you didn’t appreciate my initial review. I like talking about movies – you seem to too. I was happy to open this page and see a well thought out reply as opposed to something like “tl;dr, u gay”. We can continue this discussion if you’d like – I’ve had a few about it already, but they tend to boil down to two different perspectives coming back with two different impressions.
So let me sumarize your review. You don’t like toy story 3 because it has a choppy plot, the humor isn’t great, and the ending isn’t as happy as it is supposed to be. Anything I missed? Anyway, much better review than Armond White and Cole Smithey, and reasonably better than Jeremy Heilman, but isn’t saying “Toy Story 3 sucks” a little harsh. Out of curiosity, what would you give this move out of five stars?
Yeah, well a little bit more harsh. Empty plot, almost no humor and the ending is a lie; it’s a non-ending despite alluding to the idea that it is a complete resolve.
Five stars? 1.5 seems about right. 5 is completely average for me, 4 is slightly below average and it seems less than that. Could be 4 on a good day – I try not to put a number on a film because my feelings tend to change at least a little. So 1.5 or 2 stars out of 5.
Again, thanks for the non-aggressive reply, haha.
The fact that you are criticizing the film for being “a series of coincidences” is ridiculous. Besides the first one of confusing the toys with trash, what other coincidences are there in the story? I’d also like to know why films relying on coincidences to push the plot forward is a terrible thing because, you know, the Coen Brothers have made a career off of making films filled with them.
Your problem with Bonnie is terribly thought out and it’s relevant that you’re just trying to be a contrarian for the sake of being a contrarian. Okay, let me spell it out to you. The film is not about the future with Bonnie and what not. It’s about the present life of these characters. Andy has grown out of them. Bonnie is still young. Perhaps she will outgrow them at one point, all kids do. But what is it the toys want first and foremost? They want to be played with and loved. Sure, perhaps Bonnie will throw them out later and maybe earlier than Andy did. But they still got a few good years with her. And that’s why it’s worth it. And they will be together as well. Another thing? How do you know that Bonnie will throw them away so easily? Sure, Andy’s SISTER threw away her old toys, but also remember that Andy’s sister is not that younger than him (probably about 2-3 years). And another thing: Andy’s sister is not Bonnie. You don’t know and I don’t know what the ultimate fate is for the toys. So this point against the film simply doesn’t matter. You’re inventing things to find wrong with the film.
Nice try.
Lets see… oh, Woody stumbling upon a sanctuary for the toys because the best kid imaginable just happened to find him and all the similar various human elements that abstract the toys’ journey. There are plenty of them – your inability to interpret what I mean is crazy.
No they haven’t. A few films, sure, but their basis for plot does not completely rely on coincidence. Sure, their characters are thrown into tumultuous situations by exterior forces, but those forces are given perspective and the actions never seem anticlimactic or ruin the cadence of the protagonist’s journey. This is not the case with Toy Story 3. Also: list those Coen brothers films. The Big Lebowski? It isn’t a good film. What else? There isn’t much.
You’re very confused. Look, I’ve argued this film a few times and you’re repeating criticisms of my criticisms that have been touched on above. You’re awful, but here:
“And another thing: Andy’s sister is not Bonnie. You don’t know and I don’t know what the ultimate fate is for the toys”
No one said she was, but there wasn’t anything that separated her in her youth from what Andy’s sister was in hers or what my sister was in hers or what most little girls are in theirs. There is no indication that this little girl will turn out any differently so to pose that ending as a happily ever after is nonsense. That is my criticism. It isn’t expressed well enough to be taken credibly, so it’s a false happy ending. You can’t justify that it is one… especially when the whole point of the film was for the toys to be played with and have a happily ever after. If they had the thought that they could live that way in an attic because they were “together” that would’ve been expressed without contempt by Mr. Potato Head and others when they were on their last wind during their journey.
With a score of 99% on Rottentomatoes and a 91/100 on Metacritic, the term ‘masterpiece’ has already been stapled to Toy Story 3 as if an apothegm
means
I’m gonna invent things to criticize in this film because it makes me really cool to dislike a well loved and popular film.
Your reply
means
I’m gonna invent things to criticize in this review because it makes me feel good when I try to be smart.
Really? You wanna take this route? Haha, you’re sad.
Interesting review. 2010 seems to be the year when mainstream criticism became an arm of the marketing machine forever. Between this, the acclaim for poverty-porn superficial “Winter´s Bone” and the crazyness surrounding meh “Inception”, my faith in the supposedly cultural elite in the States is gone. At least Armond is interesting, and since Jonathan Rosenbaum is retired, he is one ofthe only ones that I find interesting to read. David Walsh too, but the WSWS people seem to praise anything with social content, regardless of quality.
I forgot to include The Social Network in my tirade! Well, that says something about the movie, is not even worth remembering.