Toy Story (1995)

"Toy Story" was the first feature length film from Pixar, and remains the studio's best film. It's my favorite animated film, save only "Pinocchio."

I was inspired to dig this film out from my DVD collection to enjoy it again after watching the new masterpiece from Pixar (now part of Disney), WALL-E. That 2008 release, like this 1995 release, doesn't rely on humans as the catalyst, but seemingly inanimate objects that are full of life. The story: pull-string cowboy Woody (Tom Hanks) is Andy's favorite toy. The boy's whole imagination revolves around Woody's adventures. All this changes when Andy receives Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) for his birthday. With one swoop of the arm, Woody is tossed to the floor and Buzz gets the prime real estate: Andy's bed.

So seemingly simple, but director John Lasseter and his team dig deep into this story about rejection, growing up and adopting to change. I could wax on about how the toys represent children and Andy's playing is parental love, but that's all apparent. What continues to dazzle about this film is the new world that Pixar created, both within the story and from the technical animation standpoint. I never noticed, or maybe I forgot, the subtle way the animators introduce the viewer to the toy world as seen through Woody's eyes -- sliding down a banister, being swung around in a chair, placed aside for pizza. It's a perfect intro before Woody first stands up and speaks with Hanks' voice.

As far as these toys are concerned Andy's room, with its scuffed up walls and floors and general disorder, is the world, and the rest of the house and outside the window is a mix of outer space and Dante's Inferno. All of this is captured in rich detail: Andy's cloth, the sheen of plastic, wall scuffs, etc. (OK, the humans never looked real, but this is ground-breaking work nonetheless.) The film opens a thousand what if questions, as every kid I know thought their toys came to life, too. It makes you think back to the time a toy seemingly disappeared or moved from a spot between times you came into the room. Did little brother get to it, or did it move on its own? Lasseter also has the guts to put surprising wrinkles into his characters. Woody is petty, controlling, heroic, daring, funny and caring. Buzz is egotistical, heroic, dumb and, yet, the more sympathetic of the two leads. Andy, a sweet boy who loves his toys, is paired against Sid, a young toy torturer who lives next door. There's no reason to believe these two kids ever met, but their two sides of the same coin. And I had both their traits. But even in Andy's innocence and goodness, he does toss Woody aside to play with Buzz, and it's something every child has done. And adult. The way Andy mixes his toys together, Woody versus Mr. Potato Head, and Sid dissects and reassembles his toys, is spot on.

More than any animated movie, this film not only captures a slice of childhood, it captures what it's like to be a child, and how children see the world. How a lost toy is the absolute pinnacle of soul-crushing heartbreak. Likewise, the joy of opening a gift as a child is perfectly captured. And, yet, we know that Andy will one day leave all this behind, just like American children (and adults, too) left cowboy series behind for space dramas during the days of Sputnik. It's this magical, sad and wonderfully joyful foundation that makes "Toy Story" a classic. A+