Toy Story - Il mondo dei giocattoli

Y'know, I always suspected that my toys were coming to life when I wasn't looking!

In Andy's Room, his toys lead lives of noisy desperation come every birthday and Christmas - no one wants to be one-upped by a new addition to the toy box. Nominally led by Cowboy Woody (there's a Brokeback joke in there just waiting to happen), Mr. Potato Head, Rex the Dinosaur, Ham the piggybank, Bo Peep, Slinky the dog and a smattering of other playthings go about their toy business of playing checkers, hanging with the hometoys and "plastic corrosion awareness meetings," until Andy's birthday party, when they gather expectantly around a transistor radio, listening to the reports of their toy soldier troops "in the field" (downstairs watching Andy's gift-opening), hoping that no gift will be exciting enough to cause Andy to neglect *them.* There is. His name is Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger.

Directed by Pixar mainstay John Lasseter, with the voice talents of Tom Hanks (as Woody), Don Rickles, John Ratzenberger (forever Cliff from *Cheers*), R. Lee Ermey, Annie Potts, Jim Varney and Tim Allen (as Buzz), *Toy Story* is that *rara avis* that succeeds on all levels – in its animation, storyline, character development, its messages of friendship and self-realization and, most importantly, its entertainment value. The fact that this is a cartoon (or animated feature – just what DO we call this new wave of computer-generated movies?) is incidental. Which makes the slightly dodgy animation (of the "real people") irrelevant - it gets the point across with or without the technological finesse.

The "Disney Movie" has become synonymous with maudlin messages, redneck fundamentalism, anachronistic family values, boneheaded parents, smart-mouthing youngsters, too-hip-to-be-smart teens and insufferable pets. Though Disney's tyrannical umbrella overarches this film's production studio, Pixar Animation, *Toy Story* somehow avoided all trace of Disney's craven hand, which is doubly surprising, considering this is Pixar's first feature length film, after years of experimentation. Right outa the gate and right outa the field.

Sure, there are "messages," but they are heartfelt, rather than maudlin (Woody tells Buzz during Buzz's greatest depression that it matters not what Buzz thinks of himself, what makes him important is what his owner, Andy, thinks of him); there are emotional segments, which are truly heartbreaking, rather than cheesy (when Buzz's escape attempt lands him with a broken arm, proving he is Not A Flying Toy, the lyric, "Clearly I will go sailing no more," launches a thousand hankies); and the portrayal of Andy's family was Pixar's triumphal achievement. Boldly contravening Disney's *idée fixe* of the 1950's nuclear family and Norman Rockwell fantasies, one of the many incarnations of a modern-day family is presented: a single mother with two kids, who are neither geniuses nor monsters, just normal children; happy to visit Pizza Planet and disappointed when favorite toys are lost.

Buzz – who believes he is a real life space ranger on a mission to save the universe - become Andy's favorite toy over Woody. The funny thing is: though Buzz believes he is real, he still adheres to toy protocol of "playing inert" when humans are in the area. (Maybe it's instinct?) When he mentions saving a toy from Sid, the vicious boy next door, how does he propose to do it if he is to adhere to the inert protocol? Buzz's ingenuousness regarding his role as a toy infuriates Woody to the point of attempted toy-assassination. Through a concatenation of accidents, both he and Buzz become lost and must use teamwork, trust and ingenuity to beat their path back to Andy, which finds them ensconced in scorchingly funny vignettes (Buzz fastening himself in an over-sized seatbelt; both falling in with green, three-eyed aliens; Buzz hyperventilating as "Mrs. Nesbitt"). During a climactic rocket ride, the callback line, "This is not flying - this is falling with style," simply seals this movie's greatness.

At least I now have a plausible explanation as to why my toys always got lost: after going about their toy business, they would just go inert anywhere they happened to be, instead of paying attention to their master's infallible toy filing system….

Just in case you were also wondering what happened to all the toys that went missing when you were a kid, the answer is clear: They escaped.

"Toy Story" is the kind of children's movie adults can enjoy just as much, because it very cleverly mines deep deposits of nostalgia from the memory banks. That may be the reason the 1990s bedroom of young Andy is populated by playthings of the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s. If Andy was a real boy of his time, there would be a computer and a TV/Nintendo, and not much else.

The voicings of the various toys add to the enjoyability. Tom Hanks was the biggest star of the moment when "Toy Story" came out, and he works with that likeability by creating a stable center as Woody the cowboy doll. Don Rickles has the screen role of his career (not that "Kelly's Heroes" was Oscar material) as a prickly Mr. Potato Head, while Jim Varney and R. Lee Ermey are standouts in the supporting cast.

Tim Allen gives the movie's best performance, as a newfangled toy that takes Woody's place in Andy's heart but can't bring himself to accept that he's just a plastic plaything. It's the role of the story that gives him the best lines ("I don't believe that man has ever been to medical school"), but Allen delivers them with real panache. He more than holds his own, and you kind of see where he took off with that note-perfect William Shatner parody he perfected on screen in the underrated "Galaxy Quest."

While this movie's use of computer animation makes it a milestone, it neither represents the most innovative use of the technology or the cleverest Pixar-ated treatment of a story. "A Bug's Life" seems a more worthy apex; that story was funnier, worked better on its own merits, and used the animation to better effect. But given how novel all of this was in 1995, "Toy Story" could have been a lot less thought-through than it was, and still made gobs of money. The fact it is instead invested with real heart, and can be watched and enjoyed today just as easily as when it debuted nearly 10 years ago, is a tribute to the people behind it.

I like Randy Newman's music, just not here, and while the animation textures are surprisingly lifelike, there are places, especially with Scud the dog but also with the baby's drool, where it falls short. The story itself gets kind of rote with repeat viewings, though the transition to Sid's bedroom and its sad mutilated toys is a genius moment. So too are the vending machine aliens, who gape in rapt wonder at the judgment of "the claw." If it reached for pathos a little less often, "Toy Story" would be an undeniable classic.

As it is, it is very, very good, the kind of film that's only good for children, even (especially?) the inner ones.

This is as close to perfection as any animated film has come, entertained parents on a equal plane with their children, and set the bar to the top of the animation film industry. No film has yet come close to Toy Story in legitimizing animation as a film art on the level of movies with live actors. Great comedies are hard to come by - Toy Story strikes gold on that basis alone, but is so much more. One of the Top 100 Greatest Films of All Time, and currently resides on my "Top 10 Greatest Comedy Films (1960-Present)" list.

Toy Story is not only the best Disney film because it has the best story and the best animation, but also because of the excellent actors chosen to provide the voices of the animals. The casting was perfect from top to bottom, and the movie provides an excellent adventure story about friendship and loyalty that keeps you engrossed until the nail-biting climax.

Tom Hanks and Tim Allen provided excellent voices for Woody and Buzz Lightyear -their performances alone are one of the biggest things that made this such a spectacular movie. Besides that, though, you have the excellent story that is not only noteworthy because it has never really been told from this perspective before, but also because it was just told so well. All of the characters in the film are very well developed and all have appropriate and effective actors chosen to provide their voices.

And of course, who could forget the revolutionary animation! The computer animation used for this movie not only made it startlingly realistic but also opened up tons of possibilities, and thankfully the filmmakers chose to explore these possibilities. There are dozens of things that are hidden in the woodwork throughout the film, as well as in the songs – note, for example, the subtle playing of the Indiana Jones theme song in the scene where Woody knocks Buzz out the window with the desk lamp.

Toy Story is by far the best Disney film ever made, it's pretty much perfect. It's adventurous, it's exciting, it's entertaining, it's good for the whole family, it's got great characters, story, and plot, and above all, it's fun.

This is a very clever animated story that was a big hit, and justifiably so. It had a terrific sequel and if a third film came out, that would probably be a hit, too.

When this came out, computer technology just was beginning to strut its stuff. Man, this looked awesome. Now, it's routine because animation, which took a giant leap with this movie, has made a lot more giant strides.

The humor in here, however, is what made this so popular. There are tons of funny lines, issued by characters voiced by Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Jim Varney, Don Rickles, Wallace Shawn and John Ratzenberger, among others. As good as Hanks is as "Woody" and Allen as "Buzz Armstrong," I think the supporting characters just about stole the show: Mr. Potato Head, Slinky, Rex the dinosaur, etc.

Multiple viewings don't diminish the entertainment, either. There are so many things to catch, audibly and visually, that you always seem to discover something new. The colors in here are beautiful, too. This is a guaranteed "winner" as is the sequel.