Toy Story 3

A version of this review appeared in The Age, June 19, 2010.

The Toy Story series is, surely, the best idea anyone at Pixar Animation Studios has ever had. Like its predecessors, Toy Story 3 is innocent fun but also an implicit manifesto – a defence of the clean, shiny sentimentality of the typical Pixar product, crafted by experts in the science of evoking childhood fears of change and loss.

What matters about a toy, after all, is precisely its “sentimental value”. As even small children understand, toys allow us to play safely with symbols and emotions – which could be said about stories as well.

Directed by Lee Unkrich, Toy Story 3 announces its sophistication about fantasy in its opening sequence, an Old West adventure that sees Woody the cowboy (voiced by Tom Hanks) galloping to the rescue of a runaway train. When all appears lost, the spaceman Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) saves the day, before Rex the dinosaur (Wallace Shawn) intervenes – and we realise all these toys are participating in a story dreamed up by Andy (Charlie Bright), their imaginative young owner. Besides serving as a showcase for the 3D animation, the sequence hints that everything that will follow is likewise a kind of charade, enacted by members of a stock company allotted heroic or villainous roles.

The reassurance might be necessary, given the traumatic events to come. All too quickly, Andy grows up and prepares to head off for college; most of the toys are meant to be packed away in the attic, but instead they wind up at the apparent heaven of the Sunnyside Daycare Centre, which turns out to be a virtual prison run by a Lots-O-Huggin' bear (Ned Beatty) who likes to be called “Lotso” and exudes the folksy bonhomie of a corrupt union leader. His chief henchman is still more sinister: a giant, mute baby doll with one permanently half-shut eye.

Younger viewers may find these mock-innocent ruffians more disturbing than funny, and only adults will fully appreciate the games with Hollywood convention that have been central to the series from the outset. From Barbie (Jodi Benson) to Mr Potato Head (Don Rickles), each toy carries a separate set of generic associations waiting to be triggered, sometimes in unexpected ways (this time round, we learn that Buzz has a “Spanish setting” that turns him into a seductive flamenco dancer). Collectively, they not only sum up half a century of pop culture, but also represent the world's past, present and potential future – as suggested by Buzz's famous motto, “To infinity and beyond!”

This abundance of narrative possibility almost makes up for the fact that every Toy Story has pretty much the same plot: Woody and company get trapped out of their comfort zone and have to slink back to home base. By now the ritual is a little too familiar, though the action set-pieces (such as Woody's escape from a bathroom) are as graceful and ingenious as we've come to expect.

The metaphysical principles of the Toy Story universe are equally fixed. Toys exist so that humans can play with them, and no-one persuasively dissents from this article of faith, aside perhaps from the lovable little aliens who worship an almighty claw. The curious relationship between toy and owner – part parent-and-child, part slave-and-master – defines the scope of the saga (in this respect, Russell Hoban's more profound fable The Mouse and His Child begins where the Toy Story films leave off).

Recently, Pixar has specialised in stories of rebirth against the odds. Last year's Up granted a grumpy old man (Ed Asner) an improbable new lease on life, and WALL-E (2008) did the same for the whole despoiled planet. Here the heroes are theoretically immortal, but this still comes close to being a film about death. Nothing removes the sting of Lotso's declaration that toys are “just trash, waitin' to be thrown away”. The saddest character of all is the old dog Buster, introduced as a puppy in part one, his belly now sagging to the ground: no second chances for him.

Even the stubbornly loyal Woody must acknowledge that attachments fade and owners move on. It's serious business for a holiday entertainment, and despite the G rating I would recommend the film mainly for older children: those who are starting to think about giving away their toys.