We’re living in a fortunate time. Future generations of moviegoers will be jealous of us the way we’re jealous of audiences that got to see the original screenings of Kubrick and Hitchcock, film by film, not as established classics but as new films to be freshly discussed. The same attention and time that auteurs spent on each feature, Pixar Studios has devoted to each of their computer-animated films. Each summer audiences look forward to the newest offering, wondering not if it will be enjoyable or not, because they all are, but how it will compare to the rest of Pixar’s work. And no films most eagerly invite comparison as sequels.

Toy Story 3 is not the best and not the worst of both the Toy Story franchise and Pixar films at large. Its exposition is clunky, its characters sometimes caricatures rather than real beings, and, as expected of a third in a series, it repeats much of what we’ve seen before. But, despite these flaws, Toy Story 3 represents a maturity of storytelling that is only evidenced in later Pixar. Woven into this awkward story of toys being sent mistakenly to a daycare center and having to fight their way out is the same progressive ethical worldview that expressed itself in Wall-E, turning a sci-fi robot story into a bid for a greener planet, and the same understanding of the desperation of the elderly that informed Up. Adding to the world and social commentary of their earlier work, with Toy Story 3 Pixar now looks ahead to the afterlife, and gives some rather subversive opinions about faith.

Andy is now seventeen and about to move off to college. His beloved toys – Woody, Buzz, and the rest – are all but forgotten, relegated to a sad little chest in his room where only their memories of being played with keep them going. To toys, the only purpose in life is to be played with, to bring happiness to the god of the nursery, their child owner. And their god Andy doesn’t have a need for them anymore. Over the years – like the elderly – their numbers have dropped, and their circle of friends is down to the bare minimum. Andy’s mom informs him that it’s time to clean out his room, to choose what he wants to take to college, what to put in the attic, what to donate, and what to throw away. In a rather brutal choice (brutal to the toys, not Andy), Andy decides to take one toy to college, and to store the rest in the attic.

Through a chain of events that is both completely unreasonable and entirely Pixar, all the toys end up instead donated to a local daycare named Sunnyside. The purple and friendly Lots-o-Huggin’ Bear greets them, and shows them their new retirement facility. Andy’s toys, who think Andy had meant to send them to the dump, at first welcome the change; but, much like an actual elderly care home, their day-to-day life and lodgings are much worse than advertised, and their sole goal soon becomes escape.

Over the course of the film we are introduced to several new characters: the sinister Lotso (Ned Beatty), an effeminate Ken doll (Michael Keaton), Peas in a Pod, a creepy monkey, and the silent but deadly Big Baby. The Potato Heads (Mr. and Mrs.) show some distressing new powers, such as the ability to reassociate their snap-on facial features to control new bodies, and Mrs. Potato Head’s floating eye, left behind at Andy’s but still sending her phantom images. These seem odd at the moment, and incredibly bizarre in retrospect.

But what is perhaps the most interesting feature of Toy Story 3 are those moments that seem especially bizarre in retrospect, as there seems to be a subversive philosophy at play, because it is especially bizarre to see such well known characters as Buzz and Woody enacting what is essentially a children’s version of Dante or Pilgrim’s Progress. Just what is Pixar telling us? 

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Andy may seem a god to the toys, but we know he is just a child. As much faith as Woody places in him, Andy is completely unaware that the toys are even alive. He has no part in their adventures, and can’t even control where they will end up. After leaving the Eden of a childhood playroom, at the end of their lives, toys get sent to the attic (a sort of dull, toy heaven), to the daycare center (purgatory that must be worked through and escaped), or the city dump (very much hell). Perhaps the most distressing moment in the narrative is when the toys, after making every attempt to return to Andy, end up at the city dump, on a conveyor belt, about to be shredded and burned to nothingness. Every possibility for escape has been exhausted, there’s no more tricks to be played, and the toys realize there’s no use in fighting anymore. Their god Andy won't save them. They are alone in the world, about to face total annihilation. They accept their fate, hold hands, and approach the fiery furnace. This is a dark, shocking moment; the darkest moment yet in Pixar history. And then, out of nowhere, they are saved by a plot device that would be appropriately called deus ex machina, only this time, the god isn’t Andy, but technology. And the film ends with an epilogue that gives the toys a new life, a reincarnation to a new god. This is a much happier ending than ending up in the attic, living out the rest of eternity in blind, empty devotion to Andy. It doesn’t seem to matter which god the toys worship, so long as they do so while staying active in life. Toy Story 3, despite all its sight gags and cultural in-jokes, is Pixar’s plea for religious tolerance. It doesn’t matter what religion we ascribe to, because the gods aren’t going to help up live our lives. It is possible to happy in a world without the direct intervention of God, as long as we don’t divide against each other (as Lotso divided Sunnyside, turning toys against toys – an obvious evil in the film).

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In its eleventh feature, Pixar has proven itself a studio not only capable of repeatedly delivering a good story with memorable characters, not only pushing the boundaries of digital animation to new limits, but as a studio with a distinctive voice and philosophy. Toy Story 3 is the rare film that could easily appeal to every single age group, from toddler to grandfather. It suffers from a few stilted lines of dialogue and the eye-rolling improbability of its setup, but once Woody, Buzz, and the rest get going, the pace is non-stop and greatly entertaining. Let’s just hope Pixar keeps some of that energy for next summer’s Cars 2...