Third Time, Not As Much Charm
I should probably declare myself by now: I am no longer a Pixar idolator. Indeed, I think I could credibly describe myself as a Pixar critic.
Toy Story 3 is the third Pixar feature in a row that has been hailed as an instant masterpiece and that I’ve found myself substantially disappointed by. It’s the fourth that my son has not been particularly desperate to see again. (And my son is a total movie hound.) I know I’m way in the minority here, but I think something has gone terribly wrong with the Pixar formula.
The original Toy Story is one of the great movies of all time. It’s right up there with Singin’ In The Rain and The Philadelphia Story. It’s genius. And not only because of what it did with new technology or because of the fantastic premise. It’s a wonder of story-telling, a complex plot with two fully-developed protagonists with very long arcs. And it’s a wonder of moral story-telling – a story with several overlapping moral messages that hit the audience on multiple levels (Simplest: play nice with your toys! More profound: play nice with the new toy! Most profound: you are also a toy – but that’s ok! Now play nice!) There was a huge amount of external and internal drama, and both were closely intertwined. Like I said: it was great art.
The sequel was a great deal of fun, and was, if anything, more gut-wrenching in terms of the internal conflict than was the original. And it had a much more complex villain than the first movie did. (I’m referring to Stinky Pete the Old Prospector – Al, the toy store owner, is a villain roughly on Sid’s level from the first movie.) All of this made the movie much more . . . grownup. Which was the first glimmer of what has since blossomed into a serious problem.
The protagonists of the original movie – Woody and Buzz – were characters that kids could connect with as well as adults. Woody was dealing with cool new kid/sibling rivalry type of stuff. Buzz was convinced he had superpowers. Even though on another level Woody’s jealousy is really the jealousy of a parent feeling squeezed out of a kid’s life by his or her spouse (don’t tell me parents don’t get jealous of each other over who the kid prefers – they do) and even though on another level Buzz’s existential crisis won’t really hit home for a child, they both work on a child’s level as well. That’s part of what made the movie so magical – that it worked on both levels, profoundly so.
But in the second movie, the one protagonist – Woody – has internal conflicts around an entirely adult question, namely: in order to avoid the pain of loss and abandonment, will I wind up sheltering myself so that I miss out on life itself? I’m not really sure that crisis – or Jessie the cowgirl’s heartbreaking backstory of abandonment by her true love – can fully make sense to a child. But I loved the movie anyway, because that crisis spoke to me, and because I still thought the movie worked both for kids and adults – the adventure story of the gang trying to save Woody made perfect sense and worked for the kids, as well as for the adults.
The change was a harbinger of what was to come, however. Finding Nemo – which I loved – has two protagonists, the father and the son, each on their own journeys, but the father is the more substantial protagonist, occupying more of the screen time and undergoing the more profound changes. It’s really his movie – Nemo’s journey to self-reliance is something of a subplot. The Incredibles – which I also loved – has similar problems. Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl are the real protagonists, and while the kids have a role in the action, they’re supporting cast, not stars – indeed, the only kid who really moves the plot is the antagonist: Buddy, who grows up to be Syndrome, the super-villain. And then, after the enjoyable fluff (beloved by kids) of Cars we get a run of kids’ movies that are quite plainly made for adults: Ratatouille (the moral center of the film is the grownup food critic, Anton Ego), WALL-E (a bit more complicated – Wall-E himself is a character kids identify with, but the movie runs into so many problems once we leave earth that I’d have to devote another essay, which in fact I did), and Up, a film my son disliked (except for the talking dogs) precisely because there was nobody for him to latch onto (except for the talking dogs) – the protagonist is a grumpy old man who needs to resolve his feelings of loss and his relationship with his own childhood, and the only kid character in the movie is nothing but a prop for his internal drama. Sorry for shouting, but that’s just unconscionable in a movie supposedly made for kids.
And now we have Toy Story 3. What can I say? I enjoyed myself. I laughed a lot. The new toys – particularly Mr. Pricklepants – are great. The whole scene with the thespians in Bonnie’s house is wonderful – particularly because you get a sense that the personalities of her toys relate to the personality of the kid (and she is bursting with personality). Mr. Tortilla Head was surreal genius. Other little things please as well: Buzz’s “Spanish mode” is inspired; little touches like having the toy phone unable to talk until the phone is picked up; stuff like that.
But. There is no internal conflict at all – only external conflict. And the external conflict is with . . . an abandoned teddy bear who turned the day care center into a prison? Where none of the toys actually want to play with the really little kids? Really? Not even the phone, who was built to be played with by preschoolers? What’s going on here?
I remember, at the end of Toy Story 2, that Stinky Pete was left strapped to a backpack with a Barbie doll who says to him he’ll really like her owner, because she’s an artist – and then she turns her head to reveal the hideous drawing on her face. Stinky Pete recoils in horror, but we’re supposed to laugh that he’s getting his comeuppance – he’s been afraid to be touched, and now boy is he going to be touched, good and hard. In the first movie, Mr. Potato Head complains about being gummed by “Princess drool” (Andy’s baby sister) and that he’s only supposed to be played with by children aged 3 and up; again, it’s a laugh. But now, we’re supposed to believe that the toys really hate to be played with rough by kids who aren’t old enough to play any other way? Sid was a sadist – that’s why he didn’t deserve toys. But what’s wrong with these two-year-olds? Why are they cast in the role of the monster in this movie?
Of course, we get a good kid to contrast with these little hellions – the aforementioned Bonnie, who is truly adorable. And alone. Hmmm. And people complained that The Incredibles was elitist because part of its message was that exceptional individuals should be allowed to excel, not held back to salve the rest of our feelings. But the message of Toy Story 3 is that in a world populated by no-neck monsters, only one little child really deserves to play with these toys we’ve grown to love.
Andy gives a speech at the end of the movie, as he donates his beloved toys to Bonnie, that absolutely made my flesh crawl because of its utter and complete inauthenticity. I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie where a character so obviously stood up and delivered the author’s message point-blank to the audience, and in a fashion so completely implausible for the character in question. (Actually, does Andy even have a character? He had one at age seven. Does he have one at age Seventeen? Not that I can see.) In any event, the speech is about how terribly important it is for Bonnie to appreciate his toys. If he’s going to give them to her, that gift is a sacred trust. These toys are special. She needs to take care of them. They are important.
Let me quote somebody who knows better:
YOU! ARE! A! TOYYYYY! You aren’t the real Buzz Lightyear! You’re – you’re an action figure! You are a child’s play thing!
Bonnie is important. The toys are props. They owe her loyalty and devotion. She doesn’t owe them anything.
At the end of this movie, the boys at Pixar come off like the protagonist of The 40-Year Old Virgin with his six-million-dollar-man action figure that he can’t give up. They may be scared of giving up their toys, worried that the next owner won’t take proper care of them. But why should we care?
I could complain about a lot of things in this movie. How does the monkey manage to get to the security desk every night? Where did Woody and the gang get the decoy potato to start their jailbreak? (Jailbreaks have to be worked out down to the tiniest detail or they lose the only basis of audience interest they have.) How exactly did Lotso wind up turning Sunnyside into a prison – what was his leverage? (Compare his setup to, say, the big empty warren that the rabbits encounter early in Watership Down – very similar situations, but the latter is so much more persuasive.) But, as people complained about my criticisms of Wall-E, this is stuff that only bothers you if the movie as a whole isn’t working. And I could complain about the writing (which is pretty leaden and on-the-nose for the first half-hour, though it gets better – and then gets worse again). But the heart of the matter is that, once again, we’ve got a movie for the inner child rather than the actual children – and the inner children are getting less and less charming with each movie.
Was Up made for kids? I think it made some concessions to kids, like the talking dogs, but I don’t think kids were the audience that movie was aimed at. I don’t know too many kids who fear they’ve outlived their sense of fearless adventure, I guess. And I’m not sure I can explain the degree to which the first 10-20 minutes made me want, with every fiber, to love my wife like that. I’ve never seen a more positive, uplifting portrayal of an atheist, childless couple in a mainstream film.
Toy Story and its sequel had a lot for kids to think about – issues of stewardship and maturity – but I just don’t think Up had anything, narrative-wise, that was for kids. It’s my favorite of all the Pixar films, but I’ve not watched it since – I just don’t have the stamina to love and lose along with Carl for the second time.
— Chet · Jun 28, 05:08 AM · #
Chet: I getcha. I have a couple of friends who are Up fanatics. It just didn’t hit me where I live, I guess.
I don’t actually object to kids’ movies that aren’t for kids (one of my favorite films is Babe II: Pig in the City which is not just quite scary but incredibly dark – totally inappropriate for children) or to kids’ movies that really have an adult at the center (I love the Gene Wilder’s version of The Chocolate Factory, but, unlike the book, which is centered on Charlie, that movie version is really centered on Wonka and his dilemma). So I guess pointing to those things doesn’t put my finger on what feels to me has gone wrong with Pixar. Gotta think more about it.
As for Up, though, and the idyllic marriage that we see in the credits montage: here’s my question for you. Yes, it’s a fabulous partnership; Carl finds the one woman who completely shares his imaginary life, but who is so much better than he is at imagining. He’s in awe as well as in love. But the arc that Carl’s character follows is an interesting one given your stress on his childlessness being portrayed positively. After all, what redeems him from apparently irredeemable loss of the woman who kept the child in him alive is finally letting go of his own childhood and taking an actual child (albeit one without a fully-developed character – grrrr grrrr) into his heart.
By the way, ever noticed that Up is basically Monster House but from Mr. Nebbercracker’s perspective?
— Noah Millman · Jun 28, 11:48 AM · #
Well my data point for what kids like is my nieces and nephews and they love Wall-E and Up.
As for Cars my 8 year old nephew said Cars is now his little brother’s movie because it is too silly “it has talking cars” His favorite is now Spiderman.
— eric k · Jun 28, 07:36 PM · #
Let me stop you there – nothing about that marriage is portrayed as “idyllic”, which is why I found it such a moving montage. It’s real. That’s why it has such an impact.
I think that strengthens my position, frankly. Childlessness doesn’t mean that ones’ life is devoid of children, and the flatness of the Boy Scout kid emphasizes the importance of Carl’s life being both childless and fulfilled by his adoption of the role of mentor for this child.
“Mentor” is a lot different than “Parent”, but it’s frequently the case that non-parents are assumed to be fundamentally unfulfilled. Like I said, it was nice to see an often-ignored and marginalized perspective.
I don’t see it, I guess. Monster House sucked and Up was awesome.
— Chet · Jun 28, 08:26 PM · #
For me Cars, with its overlong nostalgia wallow for Route 66, was the first of Pixar’s films that blatantly pandered to adult sensibilities. In Toy Story 3 Pixar has entered a nostalgia echo chamber in which the object of nostalgia is Pixar itself. (We’ll remind you just how much you love these venerable 15-year-old franchise characters if we have to imperil them in a gulag and a crematorium. I wish that were hyperbole.) As Pixar movies have become more indulgently nostalgic, angsty, ponderous, pathos-ridden, melancholic, and manipulatively tearjerking, the praise of critics has become more extravagant and the defensiveness of fans has become more strident. So sometimes I have to wonder if my displeasure with Pixar’s output after The Incredibles is just me (although I know that I’m not alone). But I suspect that after a generation (or perhaps much sooner) it will be the earlier, more whimsical, lyrical, and joyful Pixar films that will be regarded as Pixar’s real masterpieces and as having truly timeless appeal.
— Hacke · Jun 29, 08:30 AM · #
Noah, you’re welcome to your distaste for whatever film you please – but it seems like the central thrust of your critique is off-base. Various figures within Pixar have said, repeatedly and explicitly, that they are NOT making films for children. (In fact, Toy Story 3 was aimed at the audience that grew up with Toy Story 1 but is now heading off to college themselves.)
One of my perennial complaints about film criticism of animated movies is that the reviewer feels compelled to view the movie through the assumption that animated films are necessarily targeted towards children, and that movies that fail to cater to them are somehow failures… a view that conflates a genre with a marketing approach. Did Pixar hope that Toy Story 3 would appeal to kids as well as adults? No doubt they did. But artificially restricting the movie to them is unfair to Pixar.
I will grant you that the backstory of Lotso’s prison is glossed over, and that perhaps there’s some inconsistency in Andy’s speech at the end of the movie (although I definitely don’t think he ever had a personality at age 7… the series has never been about him, and he’s only of interest as a motivator for the toys). But as you noted, these are nitpicks that you address mostly because you didn’t much care for the movie to begin with.
Pixar is definitely capable of making movies that are average, at best. Cars makes the list for me. But let’s not punish Ratatouille or Wall-E for being ambitious, or failing to cater to genre conventions. Many of Pixar’s best movies – at least in my opinion – are those that use childhood as a way to speak to adults.
— Geoff · Jun 29, 09:57 PM · #
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— Baltimore Ravens jerseys · Jun 30, 11:06 AM · #
Cartoons have always aimed at a dual audience. Think about bugs bunny or yogi bear or fred flintstone. I think it’s because adults often have to watch them with thier kids, but also because adults make them. I know from experience that it is hard to make something only for kids. You have to have the talent to think like a kid and then be interested enough in stuff kids like to maintain kid thoughts for an entire project. I don’t think many adults really want to do tella-tubies for months on end. They are going to tend to stray and slip in the double entendres, etc… Just to keep sane.
— cw · Jul 1, 03:17 AM · #
Agreed, cw. All children’s literature that is good literature is interesting to adults, too. When I used to spend an hour an evening reading to my kids, I had a rule about what books to select: They had to be interesting to me, too. The same thing holds true of cartoons. The good ones are interesting on more than one level. (That reminds me, it’s time to pull out some Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons to watch again. Those were a favorite when I was a kid, and they still are. I’m not sure people are still educated enough to watch them, though.)
— The Reticulator · Jul 1, 09:47 AM · #
“Moos and skwerl.”
— cw · Jul 1, 06:03 PM · #
I have yet to see Toy Story 3 but your description of Andy’s monologue makes it sound like a transparent, even heavy-handed, allegory for how we treat friends and family. Hammering us over the head that we can’t treat our loved ones as playthings, so I’m a little confused as to why you would take it so literally instead of critiquing it for it’s ham-fistedness. But then, like I said, I’ve yet to see it so I’m certain to be missing something.
— Mike in the Mountain West · Jul 6, 05:34 AM · #
Chet- what makes you so sure Carl and Ellie were atheists?
To be sure, the movie doesn’t give any indication that they were deeply religious people, but they were married in a church and Ellie’s funeral was held in a church.
They may have been just standard, tepidly observant, “hatch, batch and dispatch” Protestants, but there’s no reason to assume they were atheists, is there?
— astorian · Jul 6, 03:46 PM · #