Film Name: 玩具总动员3 / Toy Story 3
If I were to rank the creativity of every animated film I’ve ever seen, “Toy Story” would undoubtedly land in the top three. The concept of breathing life into every toy around you was destined for success from the moment it was conceived.
Crucially, while other animated films might be seen as mere toy performances where we simply watch their dramatic conflicts, Toy Story elevates our appreciation to a higher level. Beyond enjoying the toys’ own chases, fights, laughter, arguments, joys, and sorrows, we also observe the relationships between toys and humans. This sense of deeper interaction is truly magical.
Take “How to Train Your Dragon,” for example. What we’re actually watching is a performance by a dragon-shaped toy named ‘Hiccup’ and a human-shaped toy named “Toothless.” Although Hiccup is the film’s protagonist, he functions solely as a human toy character. He interacts only with other characters within the film, like the dragon Toothless, and does not connect with us, the audience. But Andy, the owner of the toys in “Toy Story,” is different. He is never merely a toy like Hiccup. There is no toy named Andy in the world—only you and I named Andy. When watching Toy Story, audiences unconsciously project themselves onto Andy.
The real toys in Toy Story inhabit both their own world and the human world. Their performances within their own realm—like the opening police chase sequence—resemble any ordinary animated film. Yet when they interact with humans, the film transcends other animations.
I attribute the ingenuity of “Toy Story” to a combination of reverse and forward thinking.
Reverse thinking means it takes the outcome other animated films aim for—using engaging plots to make audiences familiar with and fond of story characters, ultimately driving toy sales—and makes the toys themselves the driving force. Note that other animated films more or less conceal this commercial objective of promoting toys, whereas “Toy Story” has the toys, representing this commercial intent, express it directly and unabashedly. This approach paradoxically lowers the audience’s guard.
Forward thinking refers to how it embodies animation’s original purpose—bringing life to inanimate objects—through the most fitting medium: toys. While other animations fixate on animating characters that inherently cannot move, the creators of “Toy Story” deliberately crafted dolls and imbued them with life. Before Toy Story, the toys around us were scarcely acknowledged. Aren’t they the quintessential puppets? Why did we complicate things by seeking distant solutions when the simplest approach was at hand? Bringing toys to life perfectly aligns with animation’s essence and fulfills children’s deepest, most cherished hopes.
In this sense, the scene that struck me most profoundly wasn’t Woody the cowboy doll’s escape from the bathroom—though this less-than-minute getaway brimmed with delightful humor. Nor was it Barbie watching Ken’s fashion show—though this crowd-roaring sequence pulsed with energy and blended seamlessly with the music. Nor was it the scene of Woody, Buzz Lightyear, and the toys facing the incinerator, though their mutual support and death-defying camaraderie deeply moved every viewer. The scene that captivated me most was actually the moment the toys first entered the kindergarten classroom and were welcomed by every toy in the room—because in that instant, the reverse logic that orchestrated this grand toy gathering and the forward logic that imbued the toys with life converged, creating a feast of imagination rivaling the most spectacular sights in live-action films. This vision carries beautiful aspirations, a yearning for life, and the sweeping grandeur of imagination—a unique gift only animation can bestow. Thus, I believe “Toy Story 3″ holds far greater significance as animation than other contemporary American animated blockbusters.
When it comes to the film’s thought-provoking themes of humanity and psychology, we must return to the previously mentioned relationship between toys and humans.
If toys possessed life, they would inevitably experience both loyalty and betrayal toward their owners. Similarly, as owners age and their interests shift, they too would oscillate between affection and detachment toward their toys. Compared to their owners, toys are utterly passive; they cannot influence their owners’ preferences, much less control their owners’ growth. They will inevitably become outdated, eventually discarded or stored away. How should we view these issues? If an owner no longer cherishes a toy, is it morally justified for the toy to abandon its owner? How should we confront the bittersweet reality that childhood’s innocence inevitably fades as we mature? These questions may have never crossed our minds before. Yet when Toy Story presents this perspective through the toys’ experiences, we realize their profound weight.
Personally, I believe—as stated in my article’s title—”New Homes and Heart’s Homes” embodies Toy Story 3’s idealistic response to these questions.
For the toys, their new home is the house of a little girl who shares their passion. Just as they watched Andy drive away in his car for so long, just as they quickly adapted to their new life in the little girl’s home, just as they eagerly sought to be playmates for the children when they first arrived at the kindergarten—their heart’s home will always be with their owner. Whether it’s their old owner, a new owner, or a completely unfamiliar potential owner, toys embody a selfless loyalty. They never forget Andy, yet they wholeheartedly accompany their new owner, the little girl, as she grows day by day—even though her maturation almost inevitably leads to their being passed on or abandoned once more. What does this reveal? If we interpret the toys as metaphors for a person’s childhood, we discover that “Toy Story” fundamentally explores a theme: childhood’s unwavering loyalty to every child. Childhood appears in a fair, beautiful, and pure form, watching each child’s back as they walk further and further away.
Why is this considered idealistic? Because in real life, not every child has a beautiful childhood, and not every child has access to so many toys. Yet the children in the film are immersed in the bliss of a toy-filled world, which actually creates a beautiful, idealized illusion for the audience.
So then, a more important question arises: Where is Andy’s new home and where does his heart truly belong? “Toy Story 3” offers its interpretation: Andy has entered college, and college is his new home. In other words, he has become an adult, with a long road of life ahead of him. Though he still knows every toy’s tricks inside out, carefully explaining each one’s unique features to the little girl and demonstrating them himself, he desperately wants to hold onto his childhood memories—to take Woody as a keepsake. Yet in the end, he lets go. Though the imprint of childhood remains indelible, we sense that Andy’s explanations to the little girl are like his final reflection on his childhood before his rite of passage into adulthood. By entrusting Woody to the girl, he chooses to leave his childhood where it truly belongs.
At this point, my eyes actually welled up. I admired Andy’s maturity—not the kind that severs ties with childhood by tossing toys into the trash, which would make him emotionally hollow. What I admired was the courage to bury his childhood deep within. I truly didn’t want him to take any toys, for it wouldn’t be good for him or for them. Yet deep down, I did hope he’d take a photograph of his toys. Perhaps this is where my idealism runs deeper than Pixar’s—a comforting fantasy of my own.
One final thought: discarding toys in the trash, storing them in the attic, or bringing them to school represent three distinct attitudes toward childhood—a clean break, sealing it away, and an unwillingness to let go. Andy chose a fourth path: giving them away. This choice holds the richest emotional depth—it is both a form of sealing away, as he placed them in a place he rarely touches, and a form of lingering attachment, an attachment entrusted to passing them on to others rather than holding onto them himself.
Please specify：Anime Phone Cases » Toy Story 3 2010 Animation Film Review: A new home and a home for the heart