One of the most powerful "threequels" in existence, TS 3 marks an end to not only the film series but also in the lives of many viewers. Pixar didn't pull punches but did pull our heartstrings as we watched Andy, the 'everyman' of the series in the spirit of Charlie Brown or Calvin, finally face up to the necessity of to moving on. Everything from his old room to much of his possessions has to be left behind. He doesn't want to acknowledge that painful fact, leaving it to his mother to start sorting through his things. This prodding at the beginning of the film contrasts sharply with her tearful hug at the end where she wishes that everything could stay the same as they survey his barren room.
This is hard enough to watch already, but we also get a "toy's eye" view of the gang effectively facing permanent exile - a fate worse than death to them - first in the attic and then at the daycare. Their numbers have also dwindled drastically since the first movie due to fates left unsaid but easily imagined. Even after their escape from the gulag-like daycare, the gang ACTUALLY faces death by fire. And as if invoking this primal fear weren't enough, Pixar sets the scene so well that the cliche last-minute rescue is far from a foregone conclusion.
Even when all is said and done and Woody returns triumphant with his pals, the happy ending is bittersweet at best. They all make it home, together again, only to leave it for good not a day later. Andy's passing the baton to the little girl was an ingenious way to keep the gang together awhile longer, but he still has to say "so long, partner" and the viewer can't help but wonder when he'll have to say it to his new owner.
Pixar doesn't push one's emotional buttons in this heartrending film, it pounds them with a sledgehammer. The effect is more powerful for children like me who've grown up with the series and have "been there, done that" like the toy-owners. We've traded Barbie dolls for makeup kits or plastic soldiers for ROTC uniforms, we've sorted through once-beloved treasures for donation or the dumpster, and we've hugged the parents who loved goodbye in our old bedrooms - one last time.
For at least this generation, Toy Story is *our* story which has now come to an end. Not the end of everything, but still the end of something irreplaceable.
The End of an Era
One of the most powerful "threequels" in existence, TS 3 marks an end to not only the film series but also in the lives of many viewers. Pixar didn't pull punches but did pull our heartstrings as we watched Andy, the 'everyman' of the series in the spirit of Charlie Brown or Calvin, finally face up to the necessity of to moving on. Everything from his old room to much of his possessions has to be left behind. He doesn't want to acknowledge that painful fact, leaving it to his mother to start sorting through his things. This prodding at the beginning of the film contrasts sharply with her tearful hug at the end where she wishes that everything could stay the same as they survey his barren room.
This is hard enough to watch already, but we also get a "toy's eye" view of the gang effectively facing permanent exile - a fate worse than death to them - first in the attic and then at the daycare. Their numbers have also dwindled drastically since the first movie due to fates left unsaid but easily imagined. Even after their escape from the gulag-like daycare, the gang ACTUALLY faces death by fire. And as if invoking this primal fear weren't enough, Pixar sets the scene so well that the cliche last-minute rescue is far from a foregone conclusion.
Even when all is said and done and Woody returns triumphant with his pals, the happy ending is bittersweet at best. They all make it home, together again, only to leave it for good not a day later. Andy's passing the baton to the little girl was an ingenious way to keep the gang together awhile longer, but he still has to say "so long, partner" and the viewer can't help but wonder when he'll have to say it to his new owner.
Pixar doesn't push one's emotional buttons in this heartrending film, it pounds them with a sledgehammer. The effect is more powerful for children like me who've grown up with the series and have "been there, done that" like the toy-owners. We've traded Barbie dolls for makeup kits or plastic soldiers for ROTC uniforms, we've sorted through once-beloved treasures for donation or the dumpster, and we've hugged the parents who loved goodbye in our old bedrooms - one last time.
For at least this generation, Toy Story is *our* story which has now come to an end. Not the end of everything, but still the end of something irreplaceable.