Toy Story 4
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You know… kids lose toys all the time.
~ Bo Beep
quick fox: A- | Copper
Two hours ago I stepped out of the movie theater, just finished watching the last installment (please, Disney?) of the Toy Story franchise. This is my one-hour instant reaction. Where will this go? Where will this end? Let’s find out:
winding dragon
Everyone’s favorite cowboy is rearing for one last ride into the sunset — except these days he’s relegated to the closet. A couple years after Andy donated his toys to Bonnie (Madeleine McGraw), Woody (Tom Hanks) has quickly realized that he is an afterthought for Bonnie’s attention, a sharp contrast to his time with Andy. But as Woody says to his best friend Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), “It’s fine,” — literally what everyone says when things are the exact opposite. However, a new sense of purpose may have magically appeared in Woody’s life. Bonnie, struggling with entering kindergarten and fitting in, uses some godlike/childhood power to create Forky (Tony Hale), a spork with googly eyes and popsicle stick feet. Forky helps Bonnie feel more confident in class, instantly becoming her new favorite toy.
Which is a problem considering Forky believes he’s only trash, and tries disposing of himself at every turn.
Nobody in Woody’s gang — Buzz, Jessie (Joan Cusack), Rex (Wallace Shawn), Mr. Potato Head (Don Rickles), Mrs. Potato Head (Estelle Harris, Slinky (Blake Clark), Hamm (John Ratzenberger), Trixie (Kristen Schaal), Dolly (Bonnie Hunt), Buttercup (Jeff Garin), or Mr. Pricklepants (Timothy Dalton) — believe Woody when he insists that Forky is the most important toy for Bonnie. In other words, Woody becomes the sole babysitter of Forky’s rather self-destruction inclinations. When Bonnie’s family takes a road trip vacation, Forky flings himself out the window, forcing Woody to jump out after him. Woody and Forky try to reunite with Bonnie’s family in the middle of a carnival, but get sidetracked by the ambitions of an antiques doll named Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks) and her ventriloquist lackeys. But a very unexpected toy comes to Woody’s rescue: Bo Peep (Annie Potts), who has spent the last several years living as a free-spirited lost toy, but has grown to flourish in her unorthodox toy lifestyle. Suddenly, Woody is tasked with confronting the question he’s been avoiding for years: what is his purpose in life without Andy?
Maybe I should start measuring my age in Toy Story films. I was five months old when the original Toy Story was produced; four years old when the sequel hit theaters; Toy Story 3 came out the day after my 15th birthday; and Toy Story 4 was released four days after my 24th birthday. Writing that out is making me suddenly super aware of how fast time has flown by…I have literally aged with Woody and Bo Beep and Buzz and Jessie. Which is probably why, when Toy Story 4 was officially announced all the way back in 2014, I was terrified that Disney/Pixar would trash everything they had worked so hard to build. To me, Toy Story 3 had such a perfect resolution to these toys’ lives that a fourth film felt overkill.
But I am relieved to say that Toy Story 4 is not a disappointment. It could never beat out Toy Story 3 as the best of the series, but it’s good enough that I definitely have to think about where it lands among Toy Story and Toy Story 2. What is most impressive about the Toy Story franchise is its dedication to delivering family-friendly movies with powerful messages about the nature of existence and relationships that grow more impactful with time. For example, I think what I loved most about Toy Story when I was young was what you’d probably expect: the ridiculously fun animation tricks they could do with Slinky’s body, the claw machine as a god-like entity for the Little Green Men, and shouting along with every “To infinity and beyond!” But what I have grown to appreciate more is the message about judging your personal worth not by your own desires but by the joy you can bring other people — exemplified best by the scene where Buzz is strapped to Sid’s rocket and wants to give up on life because he’s not a rocketman (not in that sense). And every Toy Story film has these deeply emotional, existential moments. The scene I think everyone remembers from the sequel is Jessie’s depressing song about abandonment, “When She Loved Me,” but Woody also has has to confront questions about legacy. Stinky Pete’s biggest selling point in the sequel is “You can go back [to Andy] or you can stay with us and last forever.” And, of course, we all know that Woody decides it’s better to be loved by the people he loves than to be admired by strangers. The third film again hammers home the toys’ fear of being lost and purposeless through Lotso, a grandfatherly teddy bear who believes that toys are literally trash for children to throw away. But even in the fiery pits of the trash compactor, facing death, the moment of linking hands is a sign that they know they built something together that matters, that isn’t just waste.
Toy Story 4 is consistent with this trend. Even though the addition of Key and Peele as a fluffy yellow duck and blue bunny are welcomed comic relief (they had some of the biggest laughs in the theater), and the misadventures with Buzz Lightyear as he searches for Woody in the carnival keep the tone light, Toy Story 4 is arguably the most existential of the series. More than its predecessors, Toy Story 4 is Woody’s film. With the exception of Bo Peep, who serves as a bad-ass, fiercely independent counterweight to Woody’s dogged loyalty, all the characters (sadly, even Buzz Lightyear) are pushed to the side as the film dwells upon a feeling that, now that Andy is no longer in his life, Woody has also lost his sense of purpose. From that comes a film that is relentless in pushing Woody to figure out who he is without Andy. A lot of Woody’s dialogue is actually quite sad, because he’s never really sure about what he wants, why he’s doing what he’s doing, or what his motivations are until the end. And that’s probably the most divisive aspect of Toy Story 4, because once Woody figures out what his purpose in life is, it’s either going to connect on a personal level with audience members or it’s going to feel like an incomplete character arc (but I think that’s going to be the minority of viewers). It really depends on how dedicated you are to Woody’s entire character arc from the first movie to the last.
Bo Peep is the film’s most essential character, because she opens the possibilities of a toy’s life that is vastly different than from what Woody (or the audience) has seen before. She’s a toy who lives off the grid, who was stuck waiting on a shelf for years before deciding that she didn’t need to have a kid to make a difference in kids’ lives. (And yes, I stick by that sentence’s phrasing because it actually fits with the metaphorical, strong-feminist message in the film). Woody and Bo form a special dynamic in Toy Story 4 where Bo shows Woody that life is more than waiting for the next kid and the next kid and the next kid…and Woody reminds Bo that every toy is important. (Even if they’re a plastic spork and in their own words, “trash.”)
Toy Story 4 is not the perfect ending to this groundbreaking franchise that I’ve spent 24 years following. But it has a little bit of everything for everybody. Kids will adore Bunny and Ducky, adults will feel punched in the gut by many of the line’s emotional scenes, and there’s even a little bit of horror happening with creepy ventriloquist puppets. Most importantly, it provides an amazing new look on Bo Peep (she is my favorite character in this film), an update of the Toy Story animation, and another insight on what it means to love others more than you love yourself.