After my announcement that I had seen none of the Toy Story movies put several of my friendships in serious jeopardy, I hosted a movie marathon to fill this apparent void in my life. Despite the hype that my fellow viewers built up, I began to understand the huge influence of Toy Story in the lives of early-’90s babies.
By the third movie, I had relived many of the happiest moments of my childhood. By the end of the movies, I recalled the moments when I prepared to leave for college myself.
When Andy’s mother walked into Andy’s empty room, I could picture my own mother as I got ready to leave for Hillsdale my freshman year.
From the scene where the toys prepared for their destruction to their happy new-home moment at Bonnie’s house, I was a mess of tears and mascara. The emotional arc continued until the end of the movie when Andy drove away to college.
The conclusion could not have been beaten. The trilogy was complete.
Until Disney announced in November that there would be a Toy Story 4.
John Lasseter, the director of the original Toy Story, agreed it would be very difficult to add another movie after the incredible ending to the third movie, according to IMDb.
Lasseter said they wouldn’t be making another movie unless it were better than the third one.
Perhaps he means “better” in terms of quality of production, or a “better” storyline, or “better” scoring, but it seems nearly impossible for a fourth movie to beat the incredible combination of relatability and production of the third.
For college-bound seniors in 2012, the year Toy Story 3 came out was the year they became “adults” in some sense, or at least began their journey to adulthood. When Andy left home, they left home too.
During the first movie, Woody learned how to deal with the new kid on the block, the consequences of being mean, and the value of friendship. These lessons were appropriate to the life of a five-year-old.
I’ve often heard people quote, “You are a sad, strange little man,” Buzz Lightyear’s comment to Woody — it’s become a commonly accepted staple of conversation.
After watching the first Toy Story, I thought, “What could be better?” The next two movies answered my question.
In the second, Woody faces difficult decisions — and decides to be loyal to his friends and to Andy.
The third movie is the end of a childhood: after the crisis and resignation of the Toys that they’ve had a good life with Andy, they are restored to Bonnie, and they see Andy off to college.
A large reason why “Toy Story” 2 and 3 were so widely accepted is because they both operated both within the world of “Toy Story” and had a strong relatability to the lives of the general audience.
A portion of the value of the movies came because the content addressed the issues the viewers went through at that particular time in their lives.
Lately, the animated movie industry as a whole seems to be stuck on sequels — while Disney is releasing two new animated films this semester, the vast number of its releases in the next few years will be sequels or live-action films like Cinderella.
Thankfully, Disney and Pixar have not completely rejected the idea of original films, with “Inside Out” and “The Good Dinosaur” set to release this year. Even so, the vast number of movies released by the organization in the next few years are sequels.
Perhaps the truth is that there’s a limit to the number of creature’s it’s possible to animate.
While my first inclination is to reject every sequel in existence, I do have to remember that Toy Stories 2 and 3 were, in fact, sequels. If Toy Story 4 becomes the pinnacle of the Toy Story mansion, and lives up to Lasseter’s claims, I won’t have any qualms.
I only hope that my future children will have some original productions in their own lifetimes on which to build.
Amanda Tindall is a junior studying history. She is minoring in journalism through the Dow Journalsim program and is news editor for the Collegian.
