Toy Story 3: Take

Take the hankies out of the toy chest, you're going to need them for Pixar's third (and final?) outing with the toys that launched them into sky, eclipsing and redefining what it meant to be a Disney animated film for the last decade.

Often with sequels there comes the dubious sink in the soul, that worry that the movie you loved so much the first or second time is going to be pimped out and under-produced (I'm looking at you, "Cinderella II: Dreams Come True"!), but I had faith that Lasseter, Unkrich (his hand-picked directing successor) and co. would never sell out their beloved toys. Sometimes in this life, faith is rewarded. "Toy Story 3" is every bit as charming, smart, exciting, and heart-true as its predecessors.

It's been 11 years and nothing's skipped a beat. There's no sign of fatigue or age in the work done or in the source material. In fact I found, and think much of the audience may as well, that more than the previous entries, "3" elicits a unique and less-explored emotional landscape. The strange land of growing up. The bridge between the ages; burned to ensure maturation or preserved at the risk of stagnation/ostracization?

Which is not to say the movie is some sort of top-heavy rumination on times and things lost. "Toy Story 3" is as much if not more adventurous a yarn than the predecessors. The toys' donation to a local daycare (and if this film is anything to go by I'll never be setting foot in one of those again) pops the cork on the wellspring for new characters that so closely resemble the fuzzy memories of my youth I found myself wondering if indeed perhaps my sister HAD owned a Lots-o'-Huggin' Bear.

I may have to sit on this notion for a while to stand behind it but as of this writing I think that the "Toy Story" trilogy, thanks to the amazing third installment, may go down as my all time favorite and creatively fulfilling film trilogy of all time.