Toy Stories
1995… When the first movie came out, I was probably still in diapers. It’s the very first fully computer-animated feature film, and the first of its kind to earn an Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay. A true landmark in animation and a testament to human storytelling, creativity, and imagination.
1999… I was six, but I guess I started watching the original and its sequel in the early days of the new millennium, after we got cable television. Before my informal education in cinema officially commenced, I had already seen the first two movies (including A Bug’s Life, John Lasseter’s underrated work between his two towering creations) a bunch of times, and they had largely become part of my childhood, supplanting toys as a pastime growing up.
I didn’t have action figures, stuffed toys, or LEGO. When my father wasn’t around, I would line up his die-cast motorcycle collection and simulate a racing tournament between them, building history and rivalries.
I didn’t have a gaming console or a Dungeons & Dragons set. I played with chess pieces against adults. It wasn’t until my adolescence that I started saving up money to buy miniature figures for a tabletop game for kids, which are technically toys. I would play with friends and then alone well into my late teens, making stuff up, but not as wildly inventive as Andy, Bonnie, or Blaze.
I may be biased, but the second movie will always be my favorite. It’s The Godfather Part II of animated films.
2010… It was a strange cosmic coincidence that when I saw the third (and final, or so I thought) installment in cinemas 16 years ago, Andy and I were exactly the same age. While he was leaving for college, I was already going through my sophomore year, but still under the same oppressive roof of my youth, never having experienced a clear coming-of-age transition.
For a brief moment, I was lost in the middle of a prison-escape movie with the characters I had known since my childhood. As the story reached its climax, I could sense the weight of an ending, the finality of an amazing journey, and tears began to roll down behind my 3D glasses.
Andy’s farewell was the perfect send-off to Woody, Buzz, and the gang. A beautiful closure to a beloved franchise. You’re heartbroken that it’s over, but you can’t help but be grateful for a near-flawless trilogy.
2019… I was both delighted and skeptical when I heard there was going to be another movie. I was afraid it would tarnish the legacy the previous installments had established, but I was still disappointed when I missed the opportunity to watch it in a foreign theater. I was left instead to endure the lifelike yet lifeless remake of a Disney classic, The Lion King.
The same year, the first three entries were remastered in 4K. After a couple of years, I had them all sitting on my hard drive, ready for a proper rewatch, including the fourth movie, which I still hadn’t seen. Ironically, the 4K television I bought gave out before I finally decided to watch it. What pushed me to do so was learning that a fifth movie was about to be released in just a few weeks, and I didn’t want to miss it on the big screen again.
It’s not surprising that the fourth chapter didn’t live up to the quality of the first three. It served no other purpose except to resolve Woody’s arc. It wasn’t as special anymore, the magic in the writing was missing, and the emotional core behind it didn’t feel as genuine. It may have been the contrast between this and the last one that sharpened my criticism and made me feel that it was an unwelcome sequel. But it’s undeniably fun to have them back.
2026… “Spin-off” is technically the wrong term, but that’s what I consider the two additional entries. The story already reached its natural conclusion two movies ago, and all we have now are bonus adventures. Approaching it this way lessens the pressure and expectation for them to operate at the same level as the original trilogy.
Regardless, I found the latest entry to be an improvement over the last. For a refreshing change, Woody and Buzz took a step back as the movie brought Jessie’s story into the spotlight and cleverly tackled more relevant issues concerning the modern-day threat of technology.
The long gap between releases makes each new entry feel like a milestone of sorts. Compare that to the Despicable Me/Minions franchise (the highest-grossing animated franchise of all-time), which launched the same summer when the third Toy Story was released, will be on its seventh movie by next week. It’s the difference between rapidly pumping out content to capitalize on a brand and allowing a story the time to develop organically.
The franchise is almost as old as I am and has been present my entire existence, accumulating layers of personal meaning as each entry found me at a different stage of my life. I find myself repeatedly saying goodbye to its characters, only to meet them again. And I can’t help wondering whether I’ll be watching it with someone next time, or if I’ll still be around then.
