Just to put things into perspective, this was nine months before the film's intended release. A tired John Lasseter, just off A Bug's Life, and his team worked themselves to the bone, sometimes to psychological breaks, and developing repetitive strains during production. Regardless of the film's quality, I can't condone that kind of crunch, and I'm certain Pixar regrets it for the effect it had. But by some sort of miracle, what should have been a nightmare, did in fact create another outstanding work. Toy Story 2 is every bit the incredible film as its predecessor, and in some areas may actually surpass it.
Toy owner Andy (John Morris) is getting ready to leave for cowboy camp, but reluctantly leaves home his favorite toy Woody (Tom Hanks) after ripping his arm. Through some snafus and a rescue mission, he's stolen by sleazy toy collector and Al's Toy Barn owner Al (Wayne Knight), wherein he eventually discovers his heritage as a valuable collector's item, meeting the rest of his Roundup gang, cowgirl Jessie (Joan Cusack), faithful horse Bullseye, and the soft-spoken Prospector (Kelsey Grammar). As Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) and other toys embark on a mission to rescue their friend, Woody ultimately faces a choice to return to his old life, or start a new one at a museum exhibit with his new roundup.
Pixar had already shown with A Bug's Life that they weren't a fluke victory story, albeit not nearly to the same level of success. But having never worked a sequel, that would be the true test of their abilities. You couldn't simply recapture the magic of Toy Story. The entire ordeal was like capturing lightning in a bottle, and if gone wrong, it could be just as misbegotten as Cars 2. But this again speaks to Pixar's perfectionism as a filmmaking force, and why their instincts of the film's initial quality was right on the money. You can't repeat your success, but you can grow from it, and grow this film does.
A lot has changed since we last left the toys, with Buzz and Woody finally having stopped their squabbling, Mr. Potato Head (Don Rickles) is now happily married to the new Mrs. Potato Head (Estelle Harris), and remember that dog teased at the end of the first movie? He's become aware of the toys' sentience, and regularly plays with them in hide and fetch games. With toys regularly rotated, all fear of being next month's yard sale fodder has gradually eased, and the satisfaction is better than ever.
But right before Andy's trip to cowboy camp, Woody unfortunately gets left behind, after an accidental tear in his arm makes the boy reconsider. It continues the first film's fear of abandonment and neglect, and if that film was about jealousy over new faces taking away attention, this sequel sets its sights on the inevitable fear of growing apart. As a toy, Woody isn't going to age, but eventually Andy will. At one point, the Prospector directly asks him if he really thinks Andy will take him to college, or on his honeymoon.
And again, this is a topic which speaks for more than just toys, but for the much wider fear of losing friends as we grow up. As children, everything feels much simpler, and it feels like nothing's ever going to come between the best of friends. But eventually people change, they branch out, start new lives, careers, families, and so that creates distance. It's never if, it's when, and though we dread the day we lose what we have, there's no stopping it.
Which comes to inform the central conflict at play, that being whether Woody should go to a Tokyo museum to live with his new friends from the Roundup Gang. Woody being a valuable collector's item is both a great literal story detail, and a layered metaphorical one. There's a deeper meaning of a toy's value beneath the surface, and a friend's value at that, being based on the love that we show them through our actions. Woody is such a fondly loved toy by Andy, so of course he'd be such a sought after artifact. With how much our toys come to shape us as children, even if our toys aren't valuable, they feel valuable to us, becoming our worlds and life in some cases. Woody has the chance to be loved not by one child, but by millions every day. In fact, one almost starts to side with him giving in and taking off, but at the same time, even if he can be adored by countless children, would it ever compare to the bond forged with that one child?
That previously mentioned Roundup Gang also become great characters in their own right, with yodeling cowgirl Jessie especially becoming a scene-stealer, an irrepressible and unhinged ball of energy and candid speaking, but also a tragic figure of her own. She has a heartbreaking backstory, having previously lived through what Woody will inevitably face as Andy ages, set to Sarah McLachlan's tearjerking ballad "When She Loved Me," that seemed to mark the official beginning of Pixar's "bring tissues" phase. We also have the gentle and grandfatherly Prospector serving as family patriarch and voice of reason, but who also has effective layers as a character, trying to hold the erratic group together by whatever means. Bullseye essentially serves as silent comic relief, an adorable and clingy little creation with the best of intentions to help, even if that sometimes makes things worse.
Returning characters also make a great service to the story, as while Woody contemplates a potential move to Tokyo, his friend Buzz is ready and willing to risk anything it takes to rescue him, to repay his debt to Woody's selfless endangerment of his own life to save him. With Woody having taught him the thrill and the joy of being someone's toy, Buzz has developed a tremendous loyalty to him, having taken his lessons to heart, and ready to remind Woody of those vital lessons.
It's in the rescue plot that the more broad comedy of the film takes place, and once again, the humor becomes a huge defining trait for the film, from its cute visual gags, to its snarky dialogue choices. There's some real side-splitting sequences peppered throughout, such as the toys creating a massive traffic pile-up while crossing the street, an extended tour through Al's Toy Barn provided by Barbie (that even includes a Jurassic Park parody), scaling an elevator shaft, and a riotous car chase as the group pursue Al on his way to the airport. We even have the return of space ranger Buzz, with a hilarious evil clone duplicate that swaps places with him midway through the film.
And in addition to being exciting, heartfelt, and humorous, it's also one filled with a number of rousing and magical moments. The bigger scope is felt as early on as the mock opening sequence, in which a video game-rendition of Buzz Lightyear makes an assault on the Evil Emperor Zurg's fortress, and Rex's inability to defeat him, which then sets up one of the more satisfying payoffs later in the film (as well as one of its most outlandish laughs). And capping off with a rousing climax, that being an escape from an airplane, it leaves the viewer incredibly satisfied through to the big finale. The animation and character work is still as terrific as ever, as is Gary Rydstrom's sound work, but those are ultimately icing on the cake for a filling and substantial offering.
While Toy Story may have been the film that launched Pixar into superstardom, it's Toy Story 2 that defined their voice. While the stressful crunch was not ideal, Pixar was wise in trusting their instincts, and not offering up their next best effort for a quick cash grab. They love these characters just as much as we do, and so they want to see them done justice, and the commitment and passion shows in every frame. After a while, these toys stop feeling like software on a computer, and feel alive and like family. That's part of the beauty of what Pixar can do, finding the soul hidden at the center of those stories, and when on their best form, their enthusiasm is just infectious. We feel just as invested thanks to that care they put in, and so this follow-up is every bit as entertaining and engaging as its original inspiration.
***** / *****
Next week, we take a trip to Sunnyside in Toy Story 3.
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