Toy Stories
by
Jeff Stimpson © 2006
Jill bought a copy of the first Toy Story
movie a few months ago, and at Ned's insistence it's been run
through our VCR often enough to turn the tape to butter. I bought
the second movie in the Disney corporate store three weeks ago,
while walls of Buzz Lightyears stared at me.
These movies are sad and joyous, good, balanced
stories. I've always liked stories that make us more aware of the
unseen worlds around us, and now I think about the world of the toys
every time I pick up Ned's own Buzz Lightyear action figure, the one
he keeps dropping until the legs snap off at the crotch.
"He's sad," Jill has often pointed out to Ned when
Buzz realizes in the first movie that he's just a toy. Sad describes
how we feel, over and over, at the song "When Somebody Loves You" in
the segment where the Jesse doll gets dropped off for charity.
"Maybe this time I'll actually watch it dry-eyed," Jill has often
said. I don't think she's ever made it.
The first movie is about accepting your
limitations and identity, the second about accepting mortality. The
movies also contain many cool details, such as Woody and Jesse
sliding from their owners' beds in the same way. In Woody's
nightmare, all the playing cards are the Ace of Spades. The Eight
Ball that's behind the dresser in the first movie, and used to lure
Buzz out the window, has been banished in the second movie, with
Woody and Wheezy, to the dreaded top shelf in Andy's room.
Jill and I and Ned all watched the other night as
Stinky Pete the Prospector climbed back into his original box and
pulled down the lid. "It's his coffin," I pronounced. Jill looked at
me. "I love you because you notice things like that," she said.
We've traded comments about these movies until we
refer to them with the intimate shorthand of "TS." For instance,
"Sid represents the darker side of the movies' creators," Jill said
once, further noting that this boy "villain" of the first movie uses
tools to restructure and manipulate the toys the corporate world has
fed him. In some ways, he's a more attractive character than Andy,
and perhaps headed for a more distinguished future.
We're often humming, "You've Got a Friend in Me."
"I like what they did with that song in the second movie," Jill
added. She also enjoys Andy's bucket o' green army men ("They love
what they do"), and to Bulls-eye, Woody's old horse.
"Bulls-eye reminds me of Gromit," I added the
other night, over TS2. Gromit is the dog in the Oscar-winning
British claymation stories Jill and I used to watch when we still
had lives. "He's the only character to break the mirror," I said.
"What mirror?" Jill asked.
"The glass wall between the movie and the
audience."
"Oh. That mirror. He never speaks, either, but he
understands."
"Where's Ned?" I asked.
Jill and I are cooking up plots for TS3.
She noticed, for instance, that Andy's mom refers to Woody as an
"old family toy" at the yard sale in the second movie. Who owned
him? "I also see a new toy being added," Jill said, "one that has
been owned by somebody before." Hmm.
Don't we ever give Ned a book!? In the
first place, TS has taught Ned a lot of useful words, like
"infinity" and "beyond." But yes, we do still give Ned books: The
graphic novel hardcover containing the stories of both
movies, which I picked up Saturday from a street vendor for $5.
"Good job, dad!" Jill declared.
We have tried to trim Ned's TS watching,
especially after a dinner guest watched him sit in front of the set
for two hours and called him a "zombie." Last weekend, I introduced
Ned to "Wallace and Gromit," three videos of a half-hour each. And
so, the other night, at quarter to seven, not wanting to lock up our
TV for two hours ("Star Trek: The Next Generation" comes on at 8!),
I deflected Ned's demands for TS by suggesting W&G.
"Oh yeah," Ned said. "Watch Gromit, oh yeah ..."
Well, good, Ned. We'll put it in right after I
check what else is on that shelf with Woody and the Eight Ball.
Copyright 2006 Jeff Stimpson, all rights reserved
