Monsters University—First Thoughts.

I followed my tradition of watching the new Pixar movie on the 4th of July. I was especially interested in this one because once I conclude my thoughts on Toy Story 2 I'll dive next into Monsters, Inc. For a prequel that nobody wanted, this movie had some pressure. Pixar always promises that they don't make sequels unless they feel they have a story worth telling. Lately, though, the company famous for innovation has been announcing several franchise expansions in lieu of new concepts. On top of that, prequels are very difficult to write. Being the Pixar apologist I am always willing to give them a chance to prove themselves, and I walked away satisfied and proud to say so.

What's wrong with prequels? Part of the problem lies with our preoccupation with "spoilers." If you know how the movie ends, or if you know how the next installment will turn out, your experience is "spoiled." You can't enjoy it. Along those lines, if I knew for fact that in a year I would make a million dollars, I would almost wear myself out with anticipation. If my car breaks down again or if I lose my job, I'll think to myself "Well let's just see how I get that million dollars. It will be awesome." If a movie is good it can't be spoiled by knowing the ending, only enhanced because anticipation will drive you to pay attention so you can experience the ending for yourself.

That's the potential that a prequel can have. Mike wants to be a scary monster. We know he doesn't scare anybody in Monsters, Inc. What happens to change his mind? Is he going to fail? Are we going to see a devastated Wizowski? You can see in Sully's eyes at one point he has no faith in Mike. How is he going to break the news to him? They're best friends in the next movie. How will they overcome this potential deal breaker?

Monsters U creates that anticipation very well. In Monsters, Inc. We see Mike coaching Sully, and we learn he got that drive and insight into scaring from becoming a top student at MU. Where many movies enjoy making the situation look hopeless before turning it around at the end, MU shows Mike as someone who won't back down and even overcomes his own trepidation to triumph before getting the rug pulled out from under him. And seeing the way he finally works his way to the top in the epilogue doesn't feel like a cheat but rather like an example of following the things you love to do.

MU's plot is just as relevant now as MI's was 12 years ago. MI dealt with an energy crisis. MU dealt with pursuing a career and building upon natural talents. Coaches constantly advise job seekers to figure out their talents and natural abilities, or whatever draws their attention. What if you have a pipe dream, but you don't quite have the aptitude for it? Can you find job satisfaction in a different area, still in the same field? If you lose your dream job, should you try going back to school to find another one?

Another way MU works as a prequel is that it enhances, not diminishes, the original. That's what sequels and prequels ought to do if they want to help the franchise or series along. Darth Vader isn't the same anymore because we learned in the Star Wars prequels what a whiner he was growing up. And I can't respect "All I ask of You" from Phantom of the Opera because I know in the sequel Raoul becomes a pathetic drunk and Christine decides she'd rather love an obsessive homicidal maniac.

Oh, sorry. Spoilers.

Monsters U, though, creates a depth. We learn that our heroes have a history with Randall, not just an overly competitive relationship. And when Sully discovers the power of laughter in MI it becomes a bigger discovery for him than before. He confesses in the prequel that his success came from standing on Mike's shoulders, that he had very little success through his efforts alone. Later, when he meets Boo at Monsters, Inc. It's the first discovery he ever made himself, so of course he wants to see what comes of it, even if it comes at the expense of his own career and legacy.

Both movies stand on their own at the same time. We get to see more in depth how monsters frighten children, and even get a glimpse into what's really happening in a monster movie. It's like the way the first superhero movie introduces the characters so the second one dives into the story. I counted really only one character's appearance that only worked as a set-up for the second movie and takes away a little of the effect of MI's plot. MU has it's own pacing and own setup and climax, and it's a powerful one without overshadowing the chase from MI. Indeed, Monsters, Inc. now feels just as much like a sequel as Monsters University feels like a prequel.

That sounds pretty innovative to me.

Brave—First thoughts.

I realize my thoughts on the movie won’t sway many people to watch or abstain from Brave. I do think it’s a good idea to document my initial reaction to it for later when I go more in depth later.

I've decided not to let a Rotten Tomatoes score influence my thoughts on a movie. According to the site, Brave has a slightly better score than Cars. If we take that too literally, it means Merida’s archery pleases as big a crowd as Mater’s dad-gumming does.  Yeah, that doesn’t make a fair comparison. I found Brave more subtle, more confident, and more focused.

The biggest problem I found was the misleading title. Much of the movie addressed less bravery and more communication. From Merida struggling to communicate with her parents to the clans trying to communicate civilly between each other, to that one Scottish boy whose accent is so thick no one knows what he says. The word Brave as a story title is perhaps a little too vague, since just about any conflict you can name needs at least a little courage to solve.

I wouldn't suggest a name change for the movie, but perhaps address why Merida's actions are so ground-breaking. The mother could be protective of her daughter, as we saw her reluctance to let Merida learn to use a bow. That and her husband lost his leg to a bear. And the mother tries so hard to set Merida’s fate in stone we could explore tradition as a type of comfort zone. It worked pretty well in A Bug’s Life and Finding Nemo. Oh, well. That was really the main problem I felt the movie had. The rest of it made me really happy to be there.

The characters are colorful. The most fascinating one for me at the moment is the father. For one thing, he exists. Second, he’s the one with a peg leg, yet he's not as protective as her mother until danger seems imminent, then he's a father in battle. The mother, in turn, has her reasons for her expectations, and seeing how she learns to communicate with her daughter is a testament to Pixar’s way of conveying meaning to the audience. From the faces of Merida's suitors you can tell they aren’t 100% enthused about the whole thing. And here’s something cool to think on: There’s no real villain, only good people who do bad things. Even the witch in the movie is reluctant to cast any type of curse for fear of the consequences. The conflict comes from characters being themselves.

Pixar still has a way with visuals, too. There’s pretentious symbolism and metaphor to satisfy the English majors. Consider Merida’s hair, and how hard it is for some people to let their hair down in the film. Bears turn out to be a sign of fear, and something the characters must overcome. And as each confronts her personal bear according to her character, so we must….never mind. Symbolism aside, we’re in Scotland! It’s fun! There are bagpipes and waterfalls! There’s so much life in the film and it really helps the audience take themselves to that world.

Bottom line: Brave got the job done. It could have made the whole bravery thing more clear, but there was a story, things got worse, then they got better, and I enjoyed my time in Scotland.

Toy Story 2—The Search for Woody (Part 2)

Thank you for your patience, gentle readers. I’ve returned to blogging, as I always will. Today I’ll talk about Toy Story 2’s characters. This one is more plot-driven than character driven, but that doesn’t mean the characters don’t grow during the movie’s course.

We can see that some of the characters have grown since the first movie. Mr Potato Head, for one, is domesticated now, shaving his mustache and all. Then there are some new faces.

I’ll start with Al of the Toy Barn. You can tell he’s a serious collector by his car and the vintage merchandise in his house. I’m amused that he’s a threat to the toys because he loves toys so much. He’s the Sid Philips of Toy Story 2. Sid provided extra urgency to the story by threatening to ruin Andy’s lost toys. Al not only creates the main conflict by kidnapping Woody, he also serves as the ticking clock by prepping the toys for a flight to Japan. He is an example of how creative Pixar can be. His store is mentioned in the first movie as a throwaway line. Now he’s an actual character with hopes and desires. He isn’t malicious. He just wants to see his passion bear fruit. Who hasn’t wondered if their favorite hobby could become a business? We do need to fault him as a villain, because he deliberately conned Al’s mom out of guarding Andy’s “old family toy.” Even that, however, softens a little because of how nervous and clumsy he is. He’s no danger to the real world, only to the toy world.

One of the striking things about Woody’s story arch is that he spends about a third of the movie with a broken arm. And that’s just the beginning of the movie—sometimes it’s torn clean off. Try imagining Batman spending that much of a movie in a cast. It’s pretty bold storytelling. I’m sure it also reminded Woody of the toys trapped in Sid’s house, mutilated and mismatched with the wrong parts. When Stinky Pete tells him about the Space Race putting Western toys out of business and when Jesse reveals her owner outgrew her, Woody has to call his own purpose into question. This is different from losing a delusion, like Buzz did. This is a matter of becoming unneeded or unwanted.

Woody is priceless to Andy. Possibly to Andy’s mom, as well, since she calls Woody “an old family toy.” If you consider how worried Woody was about being replaced in the first movie, it adds meaning to his fear of missing cowboy camp. He knows and accepts that he’s not the coolest toy in the galaxy but he likes to know that Andy still cherishes him. So how does it affect Woody to know he’s “valuable property?” quite a few ways. It goes to his head, for starters:

Jesse: Introducing the high-ridin’est cowboy around… 

Woody: You forgot rootin’ tootin’est! 

Jesse: The high ridin’est rootin’ tootin’est hero of all time, Sheriff Woody! 

Woody: (Swagger)

It also brought out his courage. Throughout most of Toy Story Woody panicked and shivered his way out of trouble. In Toy Story 2 he rescues Wheezy the squeaker toy from a yard sale, but it’s not too daring a rescue. He’s still at the house, and he’s safely hidden from sight. He’s a little clumsy, too. Thanks to Woody’s Roundup he saw himself performing daring rescues. In the final race to catch up to Jesse on the plane he rides in true heroic fashion, complete with catchphrase, “Ride like the wind, Bullseye! Hey, howdy-hey!” Woody, Buzz, and Bullseye don’t sneak. They don’t make sure the coast is clear. They just ride. A lady’s in trouble and only they can save her.

Buzz also demonstrates what a proud heritage can do. I almost looked over Buzz’s comment in Toy Story about his Academy training going to waste. His memories of the Academy may have been fiction, but his skill and courage are real. Those memories are still a part of him. He still conducts himself in a formal and dignified way. There’s even a kind of language barrier when he slips into Ranger talk, like the scene where he calls a license plate a vehicle I.D. tag. He probably does that quite often, because the other toys mistake the fresh-out-the-box Buzz for him.

Buzz also still carries a strong sense of loyalty to his friends and his ideals. It’s kind of annoying how the other toys complain about the journey to Al’s Toy Barn, but their whining shines a more complete light on Buzz’s courage that way. He really is Woody’s only hope for rescue. And that’s what makes the scene so poignant when Buzz finally confronts Woody in Al’s apartment. His voice almost falters when he says he believed in Woody’s vision of being a toy. To travel as far, and to solve a mystery as great as Buzz did, and then to hear your best friend reject all the values and dreams he gave you in the first place? Once again Buzz has to decide what he believes. When the other toys ask about Woody, all he can say is:

Buzz: He’s not coming. 

Rex: But Andy will be home soon. 

Buzz: Then we’d better be there waiting for him.

Getting the other toys to keep going was one thing. Buzz’s hero strayed from the cause, leaving Buzz to keep going on his own. Buzz tends to confront disbelief quite a bit. First the Space Ranger learns he’s made of plastic; now he learns that the friend he tried so hard to rescue didn’t want to be saved. That whole journey on foot, across a busy street, getting lost in a toy shop and catching up with a younger, more delusional version of himself and Woody rewards him by saying “Well, you wasted your time.” That would deflate the Space Ranger in me with no problem. But Buzz won’t give up a good cause.

Living in the toy world has also brought out Buzz’s vulnerability as well. He has a soft spot for the ladies. He blushes, hems and haws when Bo gives him a kiss “for Woody, when you find him.” Then, of course, there’s his classic pickup line for Jesse:

Buzz: Uh, m-ma’am, I, uh, um…cough…well, I just wanted to say you’re a…bright young woman with a…beautiful yarn full of hair—a hair full of yarn. It’s, uh, phew...whoa, uh…(cough)…I…must go.

I’ve learned that Buzz and Woody grow together the way real friends do. I’m a composer, and I recently started giving my photographer friend advice on how to write a song. He in turn has noticed some clever tricks I’ve picked up with my little digital camera. Woody was always a domesticated toy, growing into his role as a hero. Buzz began as the bravest most adventurous toy in Andy’s room, and now has begun to adapt to civilian life, becoming interested in love and other things that Woody has known for a long time already.

As for the lady in distress, it took me a while to like Jesse the Cowgirl. A bit too much rootin’ and tootin’ for my taste. Jesse isn’t always so over the top, though. She was most freakishly energetic when she was happy, like when she discovered Woody:

Jesse: YEE-HAH! IT’S YOU! IT’S YOU! Itsyouitsyouitsyou! IT’S REALLY YOU!

When it looked like she’d go back to storage, she panicked. Overall, she’s a pretty bitter and heartbroken character. One of her most touching scenes is at the airport when Woody finds her curled up in a ball, eyes closed. She looks like she lost everything and she’ll never be happy again. It’s a very sweet contrast to all the yelping and yodeling.

Jesse is most famous for explaining why toys like playtime so much; just like real people, they all walk and talk, but fulfilling their purpose makes them alive: 

Jesse: Let me guess. Andy’s a real special kid. And to him, you’re his buddy, his best friend. And when Andy plays with you, it’s like even though you’re not moving, you feel like you’re alive, because that’s how he sees you. 

Woody: How did you know that? 

Jesse: Because Emily was just the same. 

She is mighty when her time finally comes. Woody loses his grip when they sneak out the plane through the landing gear. Jesse manages to hold on to the column with one arm and clasp Woody’s hand with the other. With Woody’s help she swings to safety onto Bullseye’s back.

It’s a wonder that Jesse can trust anyone at all, considering the influence of Stinky Pete the prospector. I admire how symbolic his box is. You don’t see him for who he really is until he steps outside it. Before that, he seems very old, wise, gentle, and protective.

Stinky Pete (to Woody): Oh, it’s just a popped seam. Easily repaired. You should consider yourself lucky…Jesse, you know he wouldn’t last an hour on the streets in his condition. It’s a dangerous world out there for a toy.

He’s also a bit of an outsider, too. Having watched so many toys come and go behind his plastic cage, the only role he’s ever had as a toy is for people to walk by, look at him, and move on. When Woody invites the Round-Up gang to join him at Andy’s house Pete can’t even comprehend what it means to play with children. I guess it doesn’t occur to him that anyone would actually play with a prospector doll. The toy museum is a more glorious version of the life he knows: many people walking by, looking at him, and moving on. Only this time, people will admire him for never having been played with. As a collector, I give Pixar a high-five for pointing out the “mint condition” paradox.

Once Stinky Pete opens his box and reveals his character, we can look back and see his villainy manifest in such subtle ways. Discouraging Woody to venture outside the building. Relying on Jesse’s sad life to appeal to Woody’s softer side. Rolling his eyes at his half-brained antics on TV—it’s no wonder no one wanted to play with Stinky Pete dolls. The prospector manipulated everyone, exploiting Jesse’s feelings of abandonment and Woody’s sense of family.

When approached, Stinky Pete’s more jealous of any toy that got sold than of space toys in general:

Stinky Pete: I’ll tell you what’s not fair: spending a lifetime on a dime-store shelf watching every other toy be sold. Well, finally my waiting has paid off, and no hand-me-down cowboy doll is gonna mess it up for me now!

In the time he spent in his box, the prospector must have learned that to be loved is to be handled, is to be used up. Maybe he developed some weird philosophy that he had somehow been preserved for a safer, more sanitized destiny than the others. Since he never knew the joy that Woody and Jesse have known, he never saw how feeling alive made playtime worth the wear and tear, as evidenced by his oddly prophetic rant towards the end:

Stinky Pete: Idiots! Children destroy toys! You’ll all be ruined! Forgotten! Spending eternity rotting in some landfill!

His words still echo through Toy Story 3.

The most surprising discovery I made was the connection between Woody and Rex. Yep. You’ll have to hear me out on this one. They have a similar conflict. Rex begins the movie trying to complete a Buzz Lightyear video game. He’s pretty good at it, making it all the way to the final fight with Zurg. Sadly, though, he can’t defeat Zurg because tyrannosaurs have scrawny arms unsuitable for gaming.

You can see how devoted he is to the game on the way to Al’s Toy Barn. Everyone is exhausted and Rex says that he’s “losing health units.” Then he gets sidetracked with a gamer’s cheat manual and starts to form his own opinions about the game, that maybe the game makers are trying to enslave the players. His backbone starts to form more fully when they meet up with the new, improved Buzz (Now with a belt!). New Buzz’s delusion makes the environment seem like a full-size replica of the game. The moment of truth comes when the toy Zurg defeats New Buzz. Now Rex is the one to encourage Buzz to believe in himself, knocking Zurg off the elevator just as Zurg is about to finish New Buzz off.

He never makes it to the end of the game, but his actual experience made up for it.

Rex: I don’t need to play. I’ve lived it!

 The same is true for Woody. He never gets to see if his TV character completes the jump across the canyon, since the show died in the middle of a cliffhanger. But he and Jesse perform their own death-defying leap off a plane taking off.

Woody: Just pretend it’s the final scene from Woody’s Roundup! 

Jesse: But it was cancelled! We never found out if you made it! 

Woody: Then let’s find out together!

 They created their own ending to their legend. I think this is an unappreciated message in the film, overshadowed by the “serious issues about fame and mortality.” Stories give us courage and inspiration, be they histories or fables. Buzz’s fake Academy still shapes who he is. Woody is a bit more poised and determined from here on. Even Rex keeps up with the rest of the toys in his bumbling way. What stories and people inspire you?

And, as a footnote, for those who wonder, I haven’t seen Brave yet. I started a tradition of seeing the newest Pixar movie on the 4^th of July each year. Next week I’ll check Brave out, and give a few of my thoughts about it. End of part 2.

Toy Story 2—The Search for Woody (Part 1)

"Somewhere in that pad of stuffing is a toy who taught me that life’s only worth living if you’re being loved by a kid. And I traveled all this way to rescue that toy because I believed him."

It’s beginning to be a trend the way I approach the next Pixar film with trepidation. I wasn’t sure at first what I could say about A Bug’s Life but it quickly grew on me. As I began watching Toy Story 2, I had similar reluctance. This time, rather than wondering “What could I find of value to talk about with A Bug’s Life,” I’ve asked myself “What could I say about Toy Story 2 that hasn’t been said?” The good news is that as I watched the movie I began to find quite a bit there that no one else seems to have addressed.

My feelings about Toy Story 2 have evolved since I first watched it. I quickly got caught up in it, and still enjoy it to this day. But it bore me after a while. Sequels have a way of overshadowing the earlier movie, as if newer is always better. Therefore, Toy Story 2 got overplayed with my friends. The more I tired of the movie, the more I looked for excuses to like the movie less, and I found a few. Eventually I came to like it okay again. Toy Story 3 helped a little. That one went out of its way to connect all the stories into one. Both sequels contain stories and concepts that Pixar had no room for in the first movie, and they did a pretty decent job of creating opportunities for those moments. Since Toy Story is now a trilogy I can take the second installment as the middle chapter in a longer saga, for good and bad.

Woody has a back-story now. Buzz was the cool toy with a mission, a nemesis, a popular TV show, the works. Thanks to Toy Story 2 we know that Woody used to be the coolest toy anybody owned. He had records, games, yo-yos, novelty items, and a TV show of his own with plenty of adoring kids tuning in. I can’t help but wonder why he didn’t remember all of this until he met Jesse. The real answer, of course, is that Pixar probably didn’t know Woody’s history when they first wrote Toy Story. It’s pure speculation, but not everyone had a TV in the late 50’s when Howdy Doody—I mean, Woody’s Round-up—was on the air. I guess it’s possible that when he was bought he never saw the show. Less likely, but possible. Regardless, Woody grows as a character as he comes to understand his heritage, as a toy and as a cowboy.

The world of Toy Story expanded as well. We explore Al’s Toy Barn. We meet Zurg, Buzz’s Darth Vadar. We even learn where “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” comes from. Apparently Randy Newman is older than he looks. The toys don’t just move between neighborhoods, they trek through stores and run around a huge luggage conveyor in an airport. Each scene holds a lot more detail and texture than before, too. Andy’s dog Buster looks much more lifelike than Sid’s dog Scud. And where Woody was jealous of the new Space Ranger the last go-around, now we see that Western Toys nation-wide had to deal with the same dilemma.

My dissatisfaction for Toy Story 2 for a while came from how uneven the story seemed. There was this movie where Woody learns about his legacy and deals with his fear of abandonment—this is what Toy Story 2 is famous for. Then there’s the Buzz Lightyear journey to Al’s Toy Barn. This story didn’t seem to carry much weight or meaning. There are jokes about what it’s like to be a toy, a bit of sleuth work, and that’s about it. Buzz didn’t really have a personal conflict like Woody's. He was just honoring the friendship they share.

I think everything I dislike about the movie boils down to one problem: Sequel-itis. Lots of sequels assume you know who everyone is so there’s no need to explain why anything is funny/meaningful. And that may be why Buzz’s search doesn’t click with me. We see Buzz calming Woody down before Cowboy Camp and making frequent “Woody needs me” speeches on his journey, but Woody seems mostly annoyed with Buzz:

Buzz: Woody, you haven’t found your hat yet, have you?
Woody: NO! And Andy’s leaving for cowboy camp any minute, and I can’t find it anywhere!
Buzz: Don’t worry, Woody. In just a few hours you’ll be sitting around a campfire with Andy, making delicious, hot schmoes!
Woody: (blank stare) They’re called s’mores, Buzz.
Buzz: Right, right, of course.

If I were to guess, I believe the rescue mission was added after developing Woody’s story. This movie was originally planned direct-to-video, which was the style at the time for cartoon sequels. Pixar felt so confident in Woody’s tale as it developed that they decided to extend the film’s running time and reanimate it for the big screen. That may be why the humor in this movie doesn’t advance the story quite like the first one did. Much of it comes from the supporting cast, who don’t really develop like they did before. Potato Head and Slinky Dog already resolved their character arcs previously, so they really stick with Buzz just to make jokes or references to other movies:

Buzz: Is everyone present and accounted for?
Potato Head: Not quite everyone.
Buzz: Who’s behind?
Slinky: Mine.

Hamm comes along, too, but his character hasn’t changed or added anything yet. It’s as though the writers wanted to see old favorites again, not having anything important for them to do.

Not only that, the movie assumes that we already know what good friends Woody and Buzz are. We don’t really see how much they care about each other until they confront each other in Al’s apartment. Toy Story 3 demonstrates their friendship by showing them co-hosting a staff meeting. Maybe they could have played hide-and-seek together with Buster, so we could see them interact more at first. It would make Woody’s kidnapping more poignant. The story works well watched back to back with the original, but as a stand-alone movie it feels like we started in the middle of something.

Despite those problems, I’ve seen Toy Story 2 enough times now to appreciate it more. Not because of familiarity, but because the substance I looked for was a little hidden. Taken as a whole, Buzz’s journey does add weight to the scene where Woody’s friends find him in Al’s apartment. We learn more about things that Buzz longs for, and how strong his faith is when others around him shrink away.

And thankfully, Toy Story 2 is not a rehash. The first movie dealt with jealousy, identity, and purpose. The second focuses on life’s fragility, loneliness, and being true to heritage. I’m pretty excited to share some of the ways Toy Story 2 presents these themes. We’ll go into them as we discuss the characters, including some themes in surprising places. I still roll my eyes at the Star Wars tribute, but I applaud Pixar for the obstacles they threw in the toys’ path. It shows how resilient and loyal the toys are, even if they sometimes need little reminders of that fact. End of Part 1.