Between 2000 and 2010, Pixar had done an incredible job of defining the decade of family entertainment with an annual masterpiece. Not only were each of these films special, reflecting different ingenuity in storytelling that gave them an insurmountable presence in the culture, but they were all innovative in different ways with each being an original look into something new and exciting. In that time they did everything from exploring sea life (Finding Nemo) to superheroes (The Incredibles) to outer space (WALL-E). No place was off-limits, and the fact they were having a flawless record, racking up Oscar nominations along the way, it was easy to see Pixar as a legitimate threat.
How did they choose to celebrate a 10-year track record that remains unmatched? By returning to the world of Toy Story with a third entry that itself was a big risk. As the first unoriginal property since, well, Toy Story 2 in 1999, it was a celebrated return that was also cautious, making many wonders what value there was to returning back to the world of sentient toys who had the power to create this emotional complexity inside us. In that respect, Toy Story 3 may have been their greatest hat trick ever: producing a sequel that not only expanded the franchise but brought with it a tale that's regarded as one of the studio's best, going into darker and more fragile places. In the process, they brought an end to an era, even if it wasn't intentional. It was a farewell of sorts to a great decade and the start of the studio's rockiest period to date.
It is telling that even a decade later, there is a debate to be had with which Toy Story is actually the best. The first is the technical breakthrough, the second is the perfect balance of story and song, and the third was something unexpected. After 11 years, the third entry could've easily been another write-off, but instead, it brought a conclusion of sorts to the journey of Andy David: a boy who we had seen grown up through the opening montage, never outgrowing his love of childish things even as he watched movies, gathering them around like friends ready for a night of entertainment. It's somehow the most bittersweet image that the franchise has ever produced, the Randy Newman theme song "You Got a Friend In Me" fading into a reality that he's now 17, ready to move to college. If there was any doubt that the toys were about to be tossed out in the past, it became the central conflict here.
What did Toy Story 3 have that the others didn't? Well, it had a discussion of mortality that currently features reviews on Letterboxd of people saying that they're crying to a kids' movie. Those who love the third one most are likely those who notice its bitter exploration of growing old and feeling inconsequential. It's a story of childhood coming to an end, questioning what lies next. Given the constant imagery of garbage trucks and claws, it's easy to see this as Woody and the gang looking at death's door, watching it drive slowly closer to them, waiting for the eternal sleep in a hellish fire. After all, they all knew the neglect that Andy had given them in recent years. There was no way for them to win him back over. This was the end.
Of course one of Pixar's most notorious techniques is finding different ways to make the audience cry. The previous year featured their most noteworthy example with Up, which managed to fit a whole life cycle within a brief montage in the first 10 minutes. The fact that Toy Story 3 was devastating was to be expected, and it's a dividing factor for fans who find the excessive dive into misery difficult to handle. It's by no means the most pleasant entry in the franchise. Even with an entertaining extended sequence reminiscent of The Great Escape at Sunnyside Daycare, there was this lingering threat of death, characters lined up in prisonlike imagery as they await their fate to something totalitarian, something oppressive.
This is because of Lotso Huggin' Bear, himself a victim of neglect. Because he was abandoned, he takes out his anger on others, turning the world around him into a brainwash cycle of believing that nobody loves you. As the toys see the world around them, they discover this firsthand as very young children not only draw and drool over them but dismantle them. They are humiliated, reflecting Lotso's point so clearly. Life doesn't get better. It only gets worse. When someone like him gets any sort of power, it tends to go south quickly, especially as he uses a dump truck as his own personal ride through the daycare center. Even the way that he resets Buzz Lightyear proves his point that everyone can be broken, retrained to become hostile.
Everyone who loves the film likely grew up to be fans of prison break movies. The crux of the film is a journey on how to escape their personal anguish. In a literal sense, it's Sunnyside. For Woody, it's escaping once again they neglect that he feels like Andy will leave him behind, allowing him to grow irrelevant. Following a mistaken toss to the curb in a garbage bag, it's hard for any of the toys to feel self-worth. Once they have scars of red and blue crayons lining their exteriors, they have become damaged, wanting to return to something much more pleasant.
It's why Bonnie is an endearing new character, filling in as the new child who is obsessed with them. To watch Bonnie play with them is to see something that has been missing for most of the film. You want to see the toys have a good home, and the film throws them through the wringer just to drive that point home. By the time that they get to live with Bonnie permanently, it's a beautiful moment, realizing that Lotso's cynicism is wrong. There may be bad days where we're tossed out, but we will always be desired by someone, willing to play with us and make each other's day brighter. That optimism, cutting to the familiar clouds first seen in the opening credits of the first Toy Story, reflects a cyclical nature. A new phase is about to start, though it's difficult to forget the joy that is now firmly in the past.
Those who love Toy Story 3 likely share one thing in common: the sense of closure. For those who were children in the mid-90s, it's likely that Toy Story was a pivotal film in their lives. To have the characters age, giving off the sense of time, there is this sense that the audience has gone on a subliminal journey with the story, that the 15 years since the original has brought with them a sense of change and new discoveries. They're more mature, capable of understanding sentimentalism and complicated ideas now. Even Andy has aged, bringing back the central voice actors to reflect something else endearing about the franchise. They have been with us for 15 years, and it's difficult to want to let them go.
The film proved to be an amazing success, grossing over a billion dollars and becoming a sensation. There was plenty of territory for this series to explore, and the goodwill was going to still be around well into the next decade. Among the most telling things about the film's success is that it became only the third animated movie to be nominated at the Oscar for Best Picture. Audiences loved it, and the sense of closure felt like something that could've ended the franchise on a high note, allowing fans to have this cherished trilogy to look at and contemplate what wonders they're getting up to with Bonnie.
Well, that is largely a story for another day. Much like everything else with Pixar in the decade ahead, they began to create franchises out of most of their hot properties from the previous decade. By 2019, Toy Story 4 would be out. The fact that it came after a string of theatrical shorts and TV specials only proved that while this franchise was going to endure, it also wasn't going to let you forget what magic Buzz and Woody would bring you. Then again, that's the gist of Disney these days, needing to remind you constantly of things you love, not letting artistic integrity stand as some big accomplishment, even if they take a few extra years to make sure that they're special.
The moment that Toy Story 3 entered was the end of an era for Pixar that was ripe with successful experimentation. They played with genres and story techniques, and there was something fun and unpredictable about the studio on an annual basis. After 2010, it became less-so, starting with the Cars 2 sequel and a hodgepodge of original titles butting heads with sequels. They would continue to do interesting things within these universes, but it wasn't the same. An era was over, and that only makes Toy Story 3 all the more bittersweet. It was a purer time, even for a studio able to make billions off of a talking toy movie. The film's ability to feel like a passage of time is something you don't get in a go-go-go market. Things have only sped up, and it's likely why Toy Story 4 has been considered the first sequel in the franchise that people weren't eager to see.
With all of that said, Toy Story 3 remains a towering achievement of family entertainment thanks to its ability to mix whimsical action sequences with the dark and brooding subject matter. While it's questionable how well these movies play to young kids, it's an evolution for fans who have been going through their own experiences, learning to feel more appreciative of things like love and abandonment. It's not the most cheery chapter, but it brings a story about personal worth to a conclusion that makes sense from Andy's perspective. His toy story is over. Much like the audience at the time, it was their own form of grappling with childhood subjects in provocative ways. Whatever flaws it may have, it succeeded in reminding us of the Pixar magic, of a decade of consistent quality that like the toys couldn't last forever. We have to cherish the time we have together, and that's what lingers now that Toy Story 3 can feel just as nostalgic as the films that preceded it.
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