THERE’S A SNAKE IN MY BOOT !
I watch a lot of kids' movies these days. Pre-paternity, I got to be selective with which ones I saw, but now? I see almost everything. At least once. If there's a new animated feature on our local streaming service, we usually give it a try. The good ones we keep in the rotation, but the forgettable ones? I stop at, “Fool me once.”
I found a diamond in the rough last fall, and, as usual, it was my 5-year-old’s pick. This movie earned one rewatch, then another. He and I watched this thing every day for a solid week. All at once in a kaleidoscopic cacophony, this movie (that I would never choose to watch) taught me why I never liked Toy Story 4. What?! YEAH. I did not care for the billion-dollar-grossing continuation of the immaculate Toy Story trilogy when it was released in 2021, but it took a Dreamworks sequel to a Shrek spin-off to teach me why and how the most beloved (and highest grossing) Pixar franchise extended its run by falling flat on its face. In this comparative article, I am pitting Toy Story 4 against Puss In Boots: The Last Wish.
These two very different movies share a distinct thematic connection. Both begin with a protagonist who is unhappy in their life circumstances. Both present their hero with two very similar paths to find the joy they lack. My epiphanic moment hit when I realized that the hero’s path in one narrative is the villain’s path in the other.
I am going to get into all of it, but before I do, I want to set the tone: I am not here to studio bash.
No studio is good. No studio is bad. Each and every one employs legions of gifted artists and writers with far more talent and experience than I can lay claim to. There is more creativity and intention is invested in the credit sequence of an average made-for-streaming movie than I have invested into writing this article. Ratatouille’s Anton Ego said a critic's life is easy: We add little to the world and risk even less. Before I level my critique, I want to articulate the respect I have for each and every creative human creature who add themselves through their work to the lush cultural artifact we call film.
With that said, a movie is more than the sum of its creators. A movie is a story and every story says something. Even the ones that say nothing still push that point of view out into the world where it is consumed and embraced (or rejected) by culture. My critique of the fourth Toy Story has nothing to do with technical achievement or art direction. My problem is with the statement about the nature of joy presented in its narrative. The first three movies gave us a simple group of characters who learn that sacrificial love taps a rich vein of happiness in the human heart. They find that the giving of oneself is the path to joy and it’s worth it. Even if you have been hurt in the past, even if death will part you from those you love, and even though the amount of love you receive back from your beloved changes over time, dedicating your life to the joy of others is the best way to live. The message presented by Toy Story 4 grates against this ethos and nothing put a finer point on why than Puss In Boots: The Last Wish.
The Last Wish opens with its eponymous cat dying. A whimsically dower veterinarian informs Puss In Boots that the life he just lost was his eighth of nine. For the first time in his lives, Puss has an honest conversation with mortality. The immutability of death is more than our cat can bear. A new and very real fear sends him running for his life, tail between his legs. The swash-buckling bandit who once laughed in the face of death, retires to the countryside home of a crazy cat lady. The soft security of his ninth life contrasts the lusty care-free breeze of his first eight. Wallowing in resignation, and an excessive napping schedule, our charismatic rogue exacerbates his depressive state of mind until one day…
Puss overhears a rumor too good to be true: a map to the legendary Wishing Star has been found by the industrial baking kingpin Big Jack Horner. If Puss can steal the map and get to the star first he can get it all back!
The Stabby Tabby leaps into action risking his last life for a shot at a nine more. This sets him on a collision course, with Big Jack Horner & his baker's dozen, Goldie Locks with three bears in tow and his old flame, Kitty Softpaws, who all want The Wishing Star’s boon for themselves.
Both hero and villain share a common motivation: locate the star & use the last wish. Their pursuit is animated by the common belief that personal happiness is just one wish away. What delineates hero from villain here is this: The heroes learn that the happiness they found so elusive is available to them in the life they already have. The villains die trenchant in the belief that soul-satisfying joy can only be had if their circumstances change.
The hero’s path presents happiness as an internal practice rooted in contentment. The villain’s path views happiness as external to the individual. Happiness is an item to be acquired and hoarded. The characters who follow the hero’s path are mended, but the characters that pursue the star to the exclusion of others are left broken and hollow by the end of the film.
We have all know people mutilating themselves on the villain’s path. Their life sucks because their job sucks, or their relationship sucks, or being single sucks, or where they live sucks or how much they make sucks, etc, etc, etc. Shit, let’s cut out the middle man - I spent my twenties believing this lie and living accordingly. I saw the lack of joy in my own heart as purely circumstantial and like every villain in The Last Wish, I lived in hot pursuit of the next change. It took me a decade of trial and failure to learn what this Shrek spin-off is already teaching my five-year-old: Happiness is found in contentment and contentment can only be found in the life you have.
Now let’s jump back to Toy Story 4.
The tension in the early narrative is poignant. Andy’s toys from the first films have settled into a new life. Their new kid, Bonnie, is every bit the sweet-heart we remember from Toy Story 3. Everyone is doing great except for Woody. He gets played with as much as any other toy and that’s the problem. Woody is used to being Andy’s favorite toy, but to Bonnie, the hand-me-down cowboy doll is just one of the dozens of toys her imagination animates. Sleeping in the toy box is an adjustment Woody was not ready for.
Toy Story 4 is a purposeful challenge to Woody’s own words from his pre-birthday speech from Toy Story. In attempt to calm a room full of toys terrified that new birthday presents will replace them, the sheriff reminds them all why they exist:
“It doesn’t matter how much we’re played with. What matters is that we are here for Andy when he needs us. That’s what we’re made for, right?”
The narrative of every single film in this series challenges this statement.
Toy Story: Does this hold in a room where Woody has to share the honor of favorite toy with Buzz?
Toy Story 2: Is being there for your kid worth it, even though childhood will not last forever?
Toy Story 3: What about when childhood ends?
Toy Story 4: Is being there for you kid worth it when you are not their favorite toy?
Each challenge is brilliant and heart-wrenching in its own way. Each challenge speaks to a real human struggle. I wish I could say each Toy Story answers the call by reminding us that giving is the heart of love, but this message is only presented in the first three. By the end of the fourth, Woody, now reunited with his old flame from Andy’s house, decides to ditch his kid for an immortal life in the wild, significant other in tow. Being there for Bonnie in the way he encouraged a room full of toys to do for Andy is not worth it to Woody.
I have had arguments with friends who defend Woody here. Andy was Woody’s kid. Therefore, when Woody leaves Bonnie, he’s not betraying his beliefs because his one true allegiance lies with Andy. I understand the impulse to justify our favorite cowboy. We all grew up in Andy’s room. We all love Woody. Do you know why?
“Now Woody, he’s been my pal for as long as I can remember. He’s brave, like a cowboy should be. And kind, and smart. But the thing that makes Woody special, is he’ll never give up on you...ever. He’ll be there for you, no matter what.”
No matter what.
What happens at the end of Toy Story 4 again?
We actually see Woody making the same decision as Big Jack Horner, the villain from Puss In Boots: The Last Wish. Rather than find happiness in the life he has, and let’s face it, Jesse could have totally shown him how to love a kid from the toy box, Woody decides to search for happiness by changing his circumstances. Toy Story 4’s happy ending places Woody with his long lost love Bo Peep, confirmed in their mutual belief that belonging to no child will make them happy. This reversal of everything the first three films communicate about the nature of love makes the fourth installment a true snake in the franchise’s boot.
I have one final thought. It’s not a direct criticism of the movie. It’s kinda just something I noticed while putting this piece together.
When I am writing an article, I often resort to shorthand. It helps me get the ideas out faster, etc, etc. I knew I didn't want to be writing, “Toy Story 4,” over and over so TS4 became its adopted moniker in my notes.
Whatever is written, is eventually typed. I'm pretty sure Thales of Melitus said that? Don't quote me though…
Naturally I found myself typing, “TS4,” a lot as I was drafting. Typing this three character abbreviation is surprisingly tricky because to achieve capital letters one must hold down the shift key while typing, “T,” and then, “S,” and then release the shift key before pounding out the final, “4” to complete, “TS4.”
No one will be shocked to learn that I messed this up plenty of times, but you may be surprised to read what gets typed when the shift key is held down for the, “T,” “S,” and the, “4.”
Can't think of, “shift-4,” off the top of your head?
Let me get that for you: TS$
I will catch you next month on the 3rd,
-JT⚡
