Toy Story 3
Immigration policy is a big deal. Controversy regarding various people inside and outside the United States seems to have been sewn into our constitution, as slaves from East Africa helped build colonial wealth on land taken from Native Americans, while people from all the world over flocked to the USA’s ideals. But the Dutch and English established an immediate sense of superiority, thus persecuting other nationalities as they entered in waves. The Irish, Germans and Italians all paid their dues before being recognized as “white”. Blacks and Asians bear some stigma as others, as if the country was still ruled by the whiteness of mother England. It is now the Latin Americans - specifically those from Mexico - who are persecuted the most, whose labor is abused, whose very being here is questioned, whose dignity is attacked.
I consider this upon viewing Toy Story 3, a great animated feature about nostalgia, unity and struggle. Woody, Buzz and the gang find themselves in a day care center, where an affable pink bear named Lotso welcomes them into this toy haven, where children never grow up and you’re played with each and every day. The streets might as well be paved with gold. But Lotso doesn’t tell the whole story. He ushers them into the toddler room, where they experience unforeseen abuse and disrespect. “The toddlers have to play with something, and it’s the job of the newest toys to pay their dues before moving up to a better life,” says Lotso.
Who belongs where? What sort of system should be in place to ensure that the cycle of life is how we want it, or do we even care? Most of Lotso’s friends don’t mind, and why should they? They once experienced similar persecution and now they have theirs. In fact, they are staunchly loyal to the tyrannical system that Lotso has in place, many of them watching guard over the newer toys so that they remain in line and follow the rules.
It is sad to consider the lives of Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head: they’re an old couple from the old world, committed to each other, but threatened by forces they don’t agree with, and don’t understand. Mr. Potato Head gets locked up for speaking out against Lotso. Rex and Hamm and Slinky Dog are simple toys. They want to be played with. They don’t want to be torn apart, smashed on the ground, eaten. Why must they? Jessie and Bullseye are committed to Woody, but Woody has an opportunity to go to college with Andy, and they don’t want to hold him back; they are committed, then to their community, and to each other, but now they are overworked and under-appreciated.
Andy’s toys end up at a day care through a series of misfortunes. There was no malicious design, per se, that drove them there, but there is a system that follows: toys are for children. They’re played with, then treasured, then kept safe and remembered. The problem is that these toys are somehow forgotten. I think about immigrants in the United States, and throughout the world, who are similarly forgotten, similarly displaced and disrespected, mainly through lack of care. Immigrants are not inferior by nature, and systems should be in place to keep them equal. The figures in Toy Story 3 are able, through self-examination, passion and perseverance, to find that system, and implement it. It would be nice if we humans could do the same.
The film offers sociopolitical solutions only insofar as it celebrates the beauty of the human spirit, which is infused in each of the toys, of course. Woody is a leader, or the leader, rather. He embodies values of camaraderie, love, and morality. The film is a series of his brave and selfless acts. He must persuade each soul around him to act morally as well, for the sake of the common good. It’s not easy, even with his own teammates, who are driven selfishly, though not maliciously, for their own affection and well-being - such is the populous - let alone the malevolent forces against him - namely Lotso, who is driven by inner torment, sadness and power. Woody’s heroic quest is ultimately our own challenge. Will we stand up to injustice in the name of compassion? Or we will accept our fortunes as mere cogs in Lotso’s machine, privileged foot soldiers or unlucky bottom-feeders?
The film is colored with characters of ambiguous and fluid morality. The most interesting here are Buzz Lightyear and Ken & Barbie. Let’s start with Ken & Barbie: Ken is a wealthy celebrity bachelor in Lotso’s daycare. He is privileged and happy. He meets Barbie, fresh of the, er, boat, if you will, and takes her for his own in his mansion, giving him everything. Barbie is an immigrant in solidarity with the other toys, and uses her cunning to fight from within Ken’s world. They succeed as a couple because of their passion - his for her and hers for her conviction. They both display loyalty, and ultimately, self-preservation.
Buzz is less interesting than he could be. Or perhaps he just isn’t that complex. Just flashing lights. But his predicament is sticky: loved just a bit less by Andy than Woody, Buzz is essentially new leader of the toys as Woody heads off to college, destined for the attic, or wherever. Could be worse. He has Jessie’s attention, and the love and respect of the toys. He accepts this, and must lead the fight out of their newfound squalor at the daycare. The problem is that Buzz is not as strong as Woody, not as clever, and not as qualified a leader. He’s just a hunk. An athlete, or rock star perhaps. He is brainwashed and taken in by Lotso’s tyranny, another sizable problem for Woody to deal with. Interestingly, when saved from Lotso’s compound, his complex computerized self is scrambled into that of a Latin hero-type, complete with Lothario/Zorro personae.
Toy Story 3 is a beautiful film. Not visually, though it’s pictures are pretty, but in its contemplations on nostalgia, unity and struggle. The socio-political themes that I’ve discussed would not resonate were it not for the sheer beauty of the spirit invoked -mostly by Woody - throughout. Another character whose beauty shines is Andy, the human boy to whom most of us might relate, for once having deep love for these toys, only now to be preoccupied with growing up. What do we do when we are done with our toys? Are we ever? The attic suggests not, and so does this film. But perhaps you don’t have space to save toys in, or don’t have time to see this film. What then? Perhaps others might enjoy them instead. Perhaps finding new homes is best for such things. What does one do with nostalgia? Where do we put it? In this film, maybe. Can it be so easy, that everything has its right place?
This is a Disney film, in conjunction with Pixar. Things work out in such movies. The ending is happy, and yet I find myself tearing up throughout. Does that make it sad?
More ontologically: The daycare is run by Lotso. It is he who relegates the new toys into the toddler room. Where are the humans? Why don’t they see to it that donated toys are played with by age-appropriate children? They bring in the box of toys, leave it on the table, and forget about it…? Perhaps this is an irrelevant concern, best symbolized religiously. The film doesn’t function in the adult world; it’s governed by its own logic. Humans may affect, create even, the toy world, but they do not control it. Humans will not save the toys. The toys must save themselves.
