
Five Torches (Out of Five)
Well, I’ll be damned: Pixar did it again!
Some eleven years after the release of Toy Story 2 – a delay that came about due to a conflict between Disney and Pixar that was resolved when Disney bought the animation company outright in 2006 — we finally get the sequel.
Boy, was it worth the wait.
I’ll say it outright: I wasn’t looking forward to this movie. I am sort of anti-sequel in general, and with the first two Toy Story movies becoming classics of sorts, I just didn’t see the point of the third. I hate Hollywood’s attitude that you have to keep doing something over and over again until you completely ruin it.
But Toy Story 3 keeps the cleverness and heart of the first two movies while adding a richness and sophistication that makes the movie seem surprisingly fresh, even if the movie itself is also shockingly dark.
Andy, the boy who owned the collection of misfit toys from the first two movies, is grown up now and moving to college. Despite the toys’ best efforts, he’s no longer interested in playing with the playthings of his past. When they overhear him call them a bunch of junk and mistakenly think that he wants to throw them all away, the toys rebel, heading off to a nearby daycare center where they’re told they’ll be played with by kids all day long.
All except for Woody, of course, who remains ever-loyal to Andy.
But the daycare center is definitely not what it appears to be (to say more would be to spoil some satisfying plot-twists!). At this point, the movie becomes an outright satire of previous movies and cultural cliches, and the result — because these cliches are enacted by toys — is downright hilarious.
But it’d be a big mistake to call this movie a comedy. Toy Story 3 is about growing up, about the inevitability of change — and about how that change is simply a fact of life, neither good nor bad. Incredibly, in a scene that is as chilling as anything in Shindler’s List, the movie even touches upon the acceptance of death — and how it’s made better, maybe even bearable, by the company of loved ones.
Some will say that this movie and its themes are too dark and disturbing for kids — but I say that these people are idiots. Long before Disney started sanitizing everything for our kids’ protection, children’s literature, from Mother Goose to the Brothers Grimm, had long tradition of being a way for adults to communicate to children the uncomfortable truths about life.
There is absolutely nothing exploitative here, nothing put here to deliberately shock or offend or draw attention to itself. On the contrary, this is thoughtful, loving, and very enjoyable meditation on exactly what it means to be human — even if, in this case, the “humans” are all plastic toys.
Writing movie and TV reviews for a living, I sometimes get discouraged: why is there so much crap in the world of entertainment? Why do filmmakers even bother making pointless crap like Clash of the Titans or G-Force — and why do audiences even bother to go? Is there any inspiration at all other than money?
Then I see a movie like Toy Story 3, and I’m reminded of what it feels like when a movie makes me laugh and cry and think deeply about things — that contemporary entertainment doesn’t have to be all crap.
Is this too heavy a burden to place on a mere movie, to say that it’s restored my faith in humanity a little? Maybe so, but who cares? Just like a plastic toy, a movie is meaningful exactly to the extent that a person feels that it is.





But it’s funny — one of the attributes of this cinematic Iron Man that strikes me as odd is just how nimble and agile he is in a suit that’s basically a human-shaped tank. I was a huge fan of the comics as a kid, and in my head, Iron Man always seemed, well, kind of clunky. Here he’s as spry as Catwoman on her best day.
That having been said, the movie had its strengths. Thanks to cutting-edge CGI technology, we can now behold photo-realistic creatures that up until now had to exist solely in the minds of Greek myth geeks like myself. Uma Thurman as Medusa was particularly cool — I’ve never thought of Medusa as seductive, but after this it will be hard not to.
And for the most part, the atmosphere works. Since the aforementioned thin-line-between-humans-and-animals theme is such a large part of the story, they do a great job of showing how, in 19th century England, human beings and animals exist side-by-side: there are dogs, horses, mounted animals on walls, hedges in the shapes of animals, the occasional gypsy bear, even lots of animal furs mixed in with the costumes.
But what do you with something like the new Fox show Past Life, which debuts on a special night this Tuesday (and then starts a regular run Thursday nights)? It’s not terrible, but there’s nothing particularly novel or memorable about it either.




Not only were the books an enormous amount of campy, melodramatic fun, Carey did something bold: she brought full-fledged erotic writing — even S&M! — into the sometimes-staid world of fantasy fiction.
In the immediate aftermath of the battle that’s been featured in the last two issues, we catch up with the currently powerless Slayers, who are nursing their own wounded, as well as Twilight’s soldiers. The three havoc-wreaking goddesses are still bent on destruction, and Willow can do nothing to stop them. Finally, after a confessional chat with Xander, Buffy outs herself as newly super-empowered and buries the goddesses deep in the ground.

was only a matter of time before someone shook an angry fist to the sky and cried, “No, dammit! Vampires are not sexy! They don’t sparkle, they don’t drip of genteel southern manners, they don’t want to make tender, angsty, emo love to you! They’re not a metaphor for the anguish of the human condition! They just want to freakin’ kill you and drink your blood!”