When Toy Story 3 won the Golden Globe for Best Animated Feature, Director Lee Unkrich accepted the award from Justin Bieber and Hailee Steinfeld. With some amusement, he asked the two young stars: “Were you even alive when Toy Story 1 opened?”
For the record, the first Toy Story opened in 1995 when Bieber was one year-old and Steinfeld was not yet born. If that doesn’t make you feel old, perhaps some of the film’s toys—Mr. Potato Head, the Slinky Dog, Monkeys in a Barrel—will do the job. The good news is that this animated series rather than seeming dated and tired seems just as fresh as when the first film hit the screen, putting the animated shop, Pixar, on the map.
Toy Story 3 is nominated for two Academy Awards—Best Film and Best Animated Feature—so chances are good that we will see Unkrich clutching another golden statue handed to him by two other young stars. Elle Fanning and Jaden Pinkett Smith?
The film’s primary audience is, of course, small children. But I found myself thinking that Toy Story 3 was really aimed at parents of older children, particularly parents of adolescents heading off to college. What could be a more poignant symbol of our children growing up and moving on than leaving their childhood toys behind? Anyone who has ever had to pack up a child’s belongings, either to store them or give them away, will relate to these scenes, as seen through the eyes of the toys.
In Toy Story, the toys have adult-like feelings. Woody, voiced by Tom Hanks, has been closest to Andy (John Morris), watching over him like a surrogate parent. He is the one toy that will accompany his owner to college. The others, including Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), are placed in a black garbage bag to be stored in the attic. Andy’s mother mistakenly thinks that the toys are to be given away. Soon Andy’s cherished toys find themselves in the Sunnyside Day Care Center presided over by a large, strawberry-scented bear (Ned Beatty). Initially, the toys are delighted to find themselves in a place where there will be lots of children to play with them. The center soon turns into a chamber of horrors, however, as the toys suffer abuse and indignities at the hands of the toddlers in the center. With the doors and windows locked every night, there’s no escape.
Barbie, apparently a toy left over from Andy’s sister, is happy to find her Ken at the center. But he soon turns out to be a cad with a clothes obsession. These scenes are hysterical, with Ken trying on one outfit after another, many vintage, including a Nehru jacket and a disco getup.
The toys soon unite in an effort to return to Andy. Even the attic is better than the day care center. Woody returns to help in the effort and there’s plenty of action to keep young and old occupied. Some of the humor is subtle, more apt to be appreciated by parents rather than children. The characters are beautifully drawn, both artistically and personality-wise.
In the end, Andy does give away his toys, but they find themselves in a new home with a young child who will appreciate them. In a touching scene, Andy introduces the young girl, Bonnie, to each toy, and then joins her to play with them.
My guess is that parents of young children will find the ending touching, but parents of older children may have to pull out a few tissues. Yes, time moves on and we all want to see our children grow up and be on their own. No matter how much planning goes into that transition—SAT prep, college applications—when the moment comes, true emotion takes over. Whether you are a parent or a toy.
