Opinion Piece - The Existentialism of the Toy Story Trilogy

Okay, so the title has probably instantly thrown you off but yes, I genuinely believe there's a lot of powerful existential questions at the heart of the Toy Story trilogy, three animated films made for children. I rewatched them all last year and that idea has been stuck in my brain ever since. So yes, this is going to be slightly more serious than usual, as I basically attempt to apply the year and a half of film criticism and study that I've been taught in university to three movies about toys that talk. Fear not though, I'm not going full on essay style, this isn't meant to be some relentlessly bleak think piece. It's a fun piece! About how toys are embodiments of our deepest existential fears!

I was first struck by the thought that this trilogy may have an existential bent when watching the first one, and it's a thought that may seem obvious but remains interesting. With the first Toy Story, the core of it is the idea of being replaced. For the toys, this is obviously a very literal worry, the fear of getting literally discarded by Andy when a new and shinier toy gets introduced but it reflects a very human feeling. After all, it's the reason that intimacy is so terrifying, because we're all scared at some level that eventually, the person we have grown close to (be they friend or partner) will eventually find someone better. That theme gets touched on a little more in the second film so I'll leave that for now, because the original Toy Story also asks us what happens when we realise that our world is not what we had thought. Buzz spends most of the film believing he is an actual Spaceman (something that brings out many wonderful comedic moments) but upon realising that he is just a toy for a larger sentient being to play with... Well, he understandably goes a little insane. Perhaps this is something that isn't that common but during my early teenage years, I had existential crisis after existential crisis. Even heading towards my twenties, the elusiveness of our world continues to freak me out and having to face those moments of your world crumbling around you are some of the greatest mental battles I've ever fought in my life. To see toys deal with that on screen is something of a game changer.

Toy Story 2 narrows its focus a lot more than the first (and on an unrelated note, is definitely the best of the trilogy). Sure, there remains the plot thread of Buzz's existence being called into question when he discovers hundreds of versions of himself at Al's Toy Barn but largely, TS2 is about abandonment and how we perceive our value to each other. As you know if you've seen the film (and had your heart broken by it), Jesse's story is the perfect example of this. She has closed herself off to the world because Emily, her owner, abandoned her after she got older. Not even replaced her with another toy like in the original Toy Story. No, here the only thing replacing her is time. Jesse herself sums this up more poetically than I ever could by saying "You never forget kids like Emily or Andy... But they forget you". Al may keep the Woody's Roundup gang in their boxes most of the time but at least he assigns a value to them. Emily's love for them was deep yet fleeting; Al's is detached yet eternal. By the time the film ends, Woody makes Jesse realise that no matter how long you get with your owner, it's the quality of that time that matters and a life of detachment is no life at all. We are so quick to abandon others when they start to offer us less, but we're even quicker to forget that for the person we've dropped from our life, that relationship, whatever form it takes, had meaning. It's a nice message but it is complicated by time itself, as well as more complicated and selfish thoughts. After all, people drift apart in all situations in life and while you may never wish them harm, is it not more damaging to try and preserve the relationship (package it up into boxes if you will) if it means there's a lack of playfulness to it. Whether we are an Al or are an Emily, we are going to end up hurting people and certainly end up being hurt by countless Als and Emilys ourselves. Vulnerability requires pain, we just have to ask if it is worth the price.

Which leads us to Toy Story 3, the mother of all weepies and obviously a big discussion on loss and the possibility of moving on. Let's start by considering Lotso, someone who has lost his owner. In doing so, he becomes the bitter villain of the film, wanting no one else to be happy unless they have suffered like he has. This is such a masochsitic point of view and while I think we can all be guilty of feeling like not everyone has suffered like we have at times, it's ultimately a view that I think the film wants us to reject. Instead then, we turn to Andy giving away the toys to Bonnie. This isn't a death exactly for the toys, more of a rebirth but regardless, they are still being forced to say goodbye to what has been their entire lives for the last 18 years. As I touched on with Toy Story 2, to love requires loss, no matter how cruel it feels. There's an expression that a particularly nihilistic friend of mine once said, that relationships (as in romantic relationships) only end in either break-up or death and both can be bitter and unexpected. I am sure that everyone reading this has felt that kind of overwhelming loss before, that inescapable feeling that you are entering the start of a new era because the old era just exploded behind you and here, we should take advice from the toys at the heart of this trilogy. They do not begrudge Andy for leaving them, they accept it. Woody even makes the move to leave Andy despite Andy's desire to keep him, a moment that is as heartbreaking as it is honestly a fairly essential choice for Woody. Life with Andy, growing up together, sharing moments of pure joy; this too shall pass. We cannot change the pace of time but the message I always leave Toy Story 3 with is that that's okay. We must lose to love and in a way, that makes that fleeting moment of love even more special. Do not begrudge change, it is coming for us all, always.

Yeah, sorry if that's all been a bit heavy, I just really got into the idea of it. The Toy Story trilogy is one of the greatest trilogies in cinema as far as I am concerned and watching it as a (near) adult, these deep existential dreads that plague my mind were reflected back, crystal clear to me. It's why the idea of a fourth film is so worrying, becuase the entire trilogy seems to be building up to the idea that loss is an essential part of life and should be accepted. I'm okay with never having another Toy Story film again because the ones that we did get were so very special. Trying to reach for me ruins that a little. Anyway, I'm sure it'll be something less serious next week, hopefully with a few dick jokes. Thanks.