With their combat grips, bendable poses, interchangeable outfits and intricate moving parts, toys shepherd us from infants into teens. We grow attached to these bits of molded plastic, so much so that they become ingrained in our memories as much as specific events or people.That is the theme of Toy Story 3. That’s been the theme throughout all the Toy Story films, but in this third one it’s expanded on and deepened to a level where it becomes a meditation on childhood. No longer a child, Andy, the owner of all the fantastic Toy Story toys, has grown up and is heading off to college. As he cleans his room one last time, he finds his old toys stuffed in a chest. He looks down at them longingly, cherishing them for the memories they evoke. There’s a scene where the toys plan an intricate cell phone trick to lure Andy to the chest in hopes he plays with them one last time. Watch the one toy as he clings to the phone, aching as Andy seems to talk directly to him through the receiver.
Later, as college beckons, Andy bags the toys up to stow them in the attic, perhaps for his own children one day. This saddens the toys, especially cowboy Woody (Tom Hanks) and space ranger Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), but Andy cares about them enough to save them from the garbage and, “At least we have each other,” they keep saying.The plot allows the bag to be misplaced and it ends up in a donation bin heading to a day care center, where they meet lots of new toys, some kind and gentle, and others that are cold and manipulative. They also meet their new owners, toddlers still prone to stick things up their noses and cause other variations of toy nightmares — at one point cowgirl Jessie has her beautiful red-yarn ponytail used as a paintbrush. The day care that had looked so promising is more like a prison sentence, which prompts some Great Escape and Cool Hand Luke references — "Not in your bunk by lights out, you spend a night in the box." — eventually leading up to a lengthy jailbreak sequence that becomes more terrifying with every twist and turn.
Under all this, though, there’s an underlying theme of sadness, the kind that comes when people grow up and have to shed the things of their youth. There is an unmistakable innocence when a child plays with a toy — the smile and the laughter are so pure and genuine. And when the toys are gone, it’s time to grow up and some of the innocence is gone. Woody craves that again. It hurts to watch him crave it. Pixar, the animation company behind the Toy Story franchise, are expert storytellers, and the scenes they’ve created (Jessie's Emily sequence from Toy Story 2, the aging montage in Up, the love story in WALL•E) are some of the most poignant and heartfelt in all of cinema. They create another in Toy Story 3, when the toys embrace their destiny and join hands in a final act of friendship. It’s one of the most heartbreaking and touching moments of any Pixar film. In the end we all want to be loved, even toys. 
As for the nuts and bolts, Toy Story 3 is simply spectacular. The animation is breathtaking, with colors splashing from the screen in mesmerizing Technicolor waves. The animation is so detailed and brilliant, it seems impossible that it was even made. Watch how Woody runs down the street in a full gallop, with arms flailing and legs pounding the concrete. The lighting is especially brilliant, with each scene being cast in lovely lunar blues, soft greens or rich, warm reds evoking the golden beams of a sunset.
The voice acting is again top-notch, and all the regulars return. I never tire of Tom Hanks’ voice, nor the voices of Wallace Shawn (Rex), Pixar regular John Ratzenberger (Hamm) or, my favorite, Don Rickles (Mr. Potato Head). Slinky Dog returns, but Jim Varney, who passed away in 2000, does not. There’s an extended sequence where Buzz Lightyear’s factory settings are reset and he speaks in Spanish, which should be interesting in Arizona, a state trying its hardest to silence that wonderful language.
New characters join the cast, too, including a fashion-conscious (and very metrosexual, if not homosexual) Ken doll (Michael Keaton), a purple teddy bear who runs a toy chest like Chairman Mao (Ned Beatty), a wily little triceratops, and a lederhosen-wearing hedgehog named Mr. Pricklepants (Timothy Dalton). Some of the new characters are toys that belong to cute little girl Bonnie, who’s animated so perfectly you’d swear you were watching a real toddler. (And speaking of Bonnie, would it be unfair to wonder aloud if she's a slightly older Boo from Monster's Inc.? I think not.)As always, Pixar’s creativity, inventiveness and sense of humor are ever present, too. Watch how the more mature toys play roulette — with a See ’n Say (Toy: “Five Monopoly dollars on ‘The cow says moo’”). Or when Mr. Potato Head transplants all his parts onto a flour tortilla and then flops around during the jailbreak. The opening scene, which mirrors the opening of the original Toy Story, imagines the dreams and playfulness of the child's mind. Great care was taken to craft these characters, the things they say and do, and the plot that contains all of them.
This series didn’t need a finale. But now that it’s here I can’t imagine it ending any other way. Pixar, with Toy Story and all its other films, has found a way to take the human spirit and transfer it into objects as inanimate as plastic toy cowboys. While watching their films we see fish, monsters, bugs, robots and cars, but what we're really watching up there is us. We’re watching humanity play out in miniature. And for us to grow so fond of these fish, these monsters, these bugs and robots — and yes, these toys — then Pixar has truly done something beyond remarkable.
