Mark Reviews Movies: TOY STORY 4

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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 20, 2019

One's biggest fear going into Toy Story 4 is that it will be unnecessary. The previous three films formed a complete whole—a story about the fear of growing up, the dread of knowing that loss is inevitable, the pain of living with that loss after it actually comes, the confusion of realizing that one's place in the world isn't what it might seem, and, somehow through it all, the hope that at least we're united with everyone else in the world going through the same things. They were animated comedies about toys that come to life when people aren't around, too, and that made the trilogy of films feel all the more unexpectedly deep and rewarding.

Now, we get a fourth installment, arriving nine years after Toy Story 3 put a great, funny, and emotionally resonant cap on the series. Andrew Stanton and Stephany Folsom's screenplay treats this story as more of an extended epilogue than a full continuation of the previous three films or an attempt to begin a new narrative cycle. The new tale focuses on the beloved cowboy ragdoll Woody (voice of Tom Hanks) and his discovery that one child's favorite toy might just be another plaything in a different kid's collection. In other words, it's about losing one's purpose. Then comes the tough part: having to decide if it's better to live comfortably but without that purpose or to risk the potential failure of the unknown for some unknowable rewards.

Thematically and in terms of storytelling, then, the new film is of a piece with its predecessors, in that it's sneaky about confronting some existential angst within the safe confines of a family-friendly adventure story about living toys. It might not be a necessary installment in the series, but it isn't an unnecessary one, either, which is reason enough to reunite with these familiar characters again, to meet some new ones, and to hope that, if the studio couldn't let a pitch-perfect finale stand, Pixar will allow a good-enough conclusion to be the end of it.

The story begins with a prologue nine years earlier, in which Woody says farewell to his sort-of love interest Bo Peep (voice of Annie Potts), a porcelain figure that Andy's little sister has outgrown. Flashing forward through assorted playtimes, we're brought into the present. Woody and his pals are now the toys of Bonnie (voice of Madeleine McGraw), who has neglected the cowboy. Woody is still loyal to the kid and sneaks into her backpack to help her through her kindergarten orientation.

That's where Bonnie crafts a new toy, made out of a plastic spork, a broken popsicle stick, a pipe cleaner, and some googly eyes. She loves her new "toy," dubbed Forky (voice of Tony Hale), which comes to life and is convinced that its proper place is with other trash. Later, on a family road trip, Woody tries to keep Forky from throwing itself in the garbage.

The anxiety-ridden Forky is one of several new characters here, as Bonnie and her parents make a stop at an RV park next to a traveling carnival and down the block from an antique store, where, coincidentally, Bo Peep was once for sale. She, too, is basically a new character now—free from being a plaything for one kid and leading a group of lost toys in a park, where they can be played with by many children. She tries to convince Woody that such a life is better than being the ignored and soon-to-be forgotten plaything of one kid.

The other new characters include Ducky and Bunny, stuffed carnival prizes connected at the hand and voiced by the comic duo Keegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele (Their presence gives a new edge to the humor—since their characters' schemes always involve attacking humans—which is also an acknowledgement that the series' target audience has grown up), as well as Duke Caboom (voice of Keanu Reeves), the poseable action figure of a motorcycle-riding Canadian stuntman that is much better at posing than at making jumps. The "villain" this time around is Gabby Gabby (voice of Christina Hendricks), a talking doll with a defective voice box that has never experienced what it's like to be a child's toy and longs for it with her every molecule of plastic. She also has a small gang of creepy ventriloquist dummies to help in her plans to steal Woody's internal parts.

The rest of the old characters don't have much to do (Spaceman Buzz Lightyear, again voiced by Tim Allen, mistakes his push-button voice for his conscience, as he tries to find Woody and Forky before Bonnie's family leaves town). This is fine, since this entry quickly becomes Woody's story of self-discovery and the new characters are endearing—in their humor and in adding a slightly adjusted layer to the dilemma of being a toy without a kid to love or to love it. There are some great gags here, and it's rather amazing to see just how advanced the computer-animation process has become over the course of these films—to simply admire how much detail there now is in the toys, the humans, and the various backdrops.

Here, though, we arrive at the film's most unfortunate miscalculation—the thing that keeps this third sequel, while still enjoyable, from the greatness of its forebears. The previous films understood that a toy's being is directly tied to those who love, admire, or forget it. Those films were affecting because the toys represented something about us—what we were, what we become, what we hope to pass on to others. In making this the story of Woody's journey, separate from any human, Toy Story 4 forgets that, without anyone to play with it, a toy is just a toy.

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