Toy Story 5

"All children talk to their toys," Charles Baudelaire once wrote, and "the toys become actors in a great drama of life, scaled down inside the camera obscura of the childish brain. And in games they reveal their considerable faculty of abstraction and high imaginative powers; they play without playthings..."

Anyone who has seen just about any of the Toy Story films knows this to be true. I was eight years old when the very first one was released in 1995, ushering in an era of computer-generated animation and accelerating the decline of traditional, hand-drawn animation in Hollywood. I can remember feeling like I had to be more careful about how I treated my toys; I didn't want to end up like the malicious Sid dealing with a vengeful uprising. Much has changed since then, yet this franchise remarkably carries on. It's sad that some of the old gang are missing; some—like Don Rickles, Estelle Harris, and Jim Varney—have passed away, while others—like Timothy Dalton—have mysteriously been replaced. (They are replaced by Jeff Bergman, Anna Vocino, Blake Clarke, and John Hopkins, respectively.) But Tom Hanks and Tim Allen as Woody and Buzz (who were really at the height of their power way back in '95) are still here, though they surprisingly take more of a backseat in the action to Jessie, the cowgirl who joined them in Toy Story 2 in 1999; she's really the heart of this film. 

In Toy Story 5, Jessie (Joan Cusack) is still with Bonnie (Scarlett Spears), the adorable little girl who inherited Andy's toys in Toy Story 3 in 2010. She's still joined by companions Rex (Wallace Shaw), Hamm (John Ratzenberger), Forky (Tony Hale), and others, putting on elaborate productions that occupy vast space in her imagination. The problem, however, is that Bonnie, now age eight, struggles to make friends and isn't sure why. Neither are her parents. Upon investigating, however, Jessie soon discovers the reason: technology. Every house in the neighborhood is inhabited by children who are glued to screens instead of outside playing. Bonnie has been spared from screen addiction (for now). Her parents are concerned, and they become convinced that the solution can be found in their daughter getting her own device. In this case, it's a frog-themed iPad-style device called Lilypad (or "Lily" and voiced by Greta Lee), a smart device which hosts a cloud-based realm of avatars that Meta could only dream of. Like users of Meta's platforms, children like Bonnie become addicted almost immediately. While the film doesn't dwell on it too much, adults (especially parents) will probably watch what happens to her with complete horror as she becomes moodier and more combative. Lily does nothing to solve her anxiety; it only augments it.

In a surprisingly convoluted plot, Jessie goes on a hero's journey to try and separate Bonnie from these devices while also helping her find a human friend. She'll need the help of her companions Buzz and Woody along the way, who argue a bit (in a subplot that is never fully fleshed out) about who is her true deputy. Things go awry, and the gang gets split up—Jessie ends up at her former home (though her human, Emily, famously lost interest in her) where a new family lives. There, she meets and initially detests a group of retro tech-based toys like Snappy (a toy camera voiced by Shelby Rabara), Atlas (a GPS hippo toy voiced by Craig Robinson), and Smarty Pants (a toilet-training toy voiced by Conan O'Brien). Woody and Buzz remain at Bonnie's, where they try and take care of Lily. 

One of my initial reactions was that the film doesn't have the same punch that recent entries have, that, despite its noble intentions, Toy Story 5 doesn't hit as hard as one thinks it would. I may have spoken too soon. By now, there have been numerous articles in everything from the New York Times to the Wall Street Journal about the parental fight against omnipresent devices in school settings. Children don't read those newspapers, but they do watch Pixar movies. One parent now claims that her young daughter won't touch her device since seeing it. Just as I and other then-young children were afraid of becoming Sid thirty years ago, now hopefully children of today will be positively impacted by this film. In that respect, you owe it to your children to show them this film. 

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The Polar Express

"The Polar Express" certainly starts out with a great deal of ambition while trying to make sure it presses all the right notes required of a Christmas movie. There's a calm, mystical score by Alan Silvesti, the usual composer of director Robert Zemeckis, and quite impressive visual effects. There's a poem (as all stories about Christmas must have) of a young boy who is starting to lose faith in Santa. He picks up an encyclopedia to discover that the North Pole is, contrary to all the stories he's been told, "devoid of all life." (Oh, knowledge -- how cruel you are.) The epiphany of this boy's awareness of Santa is where things start to spoil. The score becomes overly repetitive, and the "is-it-real-or-is-it-not" animation begins to make some of the characters looks like aliens. Fairly soon, it becomes evident that the only thing devoid of life in this film is the film itself.

Trains in the movies are usually magical things. One would think that would be the case here, in a movie that features some sort of ghost-hobo and flying reindeer. It's true that things certainly look quite magical in "The Polar Express." After all, an actual train shows up in front of the house of young "Hero Boy." (Yes, that's what he's credited as.) Our young boy is performed by...Tom Hanks? Yes, not only does Hanks, who has shown us that he can play a man dying of AIDS and a man with a mental disability and everything else, play the train conductor (the central adult character) and practically every adult male role in the film, but also "Hero Boy." Why Zemeckis and crew didn't simply have Daryl Sabara (who voiced the character) provide the motion-capture is something I just don't understand. Anyway, Hero Boy gets on the train to the North Pole because why wouldn't he? If we are to believe that a train can show up (and go to) such a place, then we must believe that Hero Boy would get on that train. (Seriously, what a terrible name for a character.) Hero Boy (argh, it sounds so stupid) meets a group of children, one of whom, Hero Girl (who wrote this?), seems to have a crush on him. Another one, a know-it-all (I suppose I should mention that that's the character's name, as well) is not only performed but also voiced by an adult, which just adds to the misery of hearing a child say the words "wise guy." Then we are witness to two not-so-competent (or safe) train engineers whose annoying attributes make Jingle and Jangle, the humorless elf duo of "The Year Without a Santa Claus," look like amateurs in the realm of humor and efficiency. These are several of the attempts at humor that I can't imagine even children laughing at.

This movie isn't all bad. Hanks does do a mostly sufficient job as most of these characters, even though he hams it up so often. "The Polar Express" looks and feels quite wondrous and even frightening, like the graveyard of forgotten toys. One of them even appears to come to life and wants to attack the young boy. "The Polar Express" turns ten years old this year, and the scenes like that have aged well. So no one would deny that Zemeckis, who started his computer animation trilogy with "The Polar Express," is a master of visual storytelling. But his best movies, like "Back to the Future," "Who Framed Roger Rabbit," and "Forrest Gump," focus more on character than visuals. Here, the opposite is true. Its only focus is on visuals, with every sequence trying to top itself, to the point where a giant star on a giant Christmas tree nearly crashes through the skull of one of Santa's elves. And for some reason, 45 minutes into the movie, it embraces its chaotic train ride energy and suddenly becomes a musical. You know how they say you know you've seen a good musical when you leave the theater and the songs are stuck in your head? I can't even imagine the ones who worked on the productions of these dismal songs to have them stuck in theirs upon leaving the studio.

The song that Haley Joel Osment-lookalike sings fortunately finishes, and our characters finally make it to the North Pole, which oddly enough does seem devoid of life (in the figurative, sarcastic sense) but (of course) is inhabited by an army of elves all dressed in red, crawling over each other to shower their adoration on their fascist of a master. The characters (who might just be representing the most annoying portrayal of children in any movie) finally meet Santa Claus (who is also played by Tom Hanks), and then the movie still goes on for another 15 minutes. No exciting train scene can save this film. Ten years later, "The Polar Express" is, for some reason, considered a holiday classic. Call me Ebeneezer, but this movie is crap.

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The Funniest AFI Moments

This Saturday, TNT will present the American Film Institute's Lifetime Achievement Award to Mel Brooks, a man who certainly deserves it. For more than fifty years, he has made us practically cry laughing with films like "The Producers" in 1968 (along with the Broadway version and 2005 film version), "Young Frankenstein," "Blazing Saddles," "Spaceballs," and others. Do you like the old show "Get Smart"? Brooks was a co-creator. In fact, he has won an Oscar, an Emmy, a Tony and a Grammy, making him one of the few individuals to win all four. The AFI Lifetime Achievement Award is, according to them, the highest honor an American in film can get. Fortunately, the show is often quite funny, and knowing the long list of co-workers and famous fans of Brooks, we can be sure that Saturday night's show will be good fun. For a brief history of such humor at the AFI awards, here are some of their funniest moments.    

Steve Martin, Tom Hanks, 2002

Steve Martin, perhaps the funniest man alive, opened the show expressing just a bit of faux-jealousy towards Hanks during the latter's "mid-life achievement award." Martin delivers the lines in that dry, sarcastic tone that he does best. "How did Tom come so far so quickly? Well, nepotism."    

Billy Crystal, Robert De Niro, 2003 

Billy Crystal, Robert De Niro's co-star from "Analyze This," doesn't exactly deliver a knee-slapper (but Robin Williams did during his hysterical roast that night of Martin Scorsese), but it gets the show off to a nice start. He lampoons De Niro's famous work ethic, compares his early look to that of the Monkees, and does a nice impression of De Niro's inability to make conversation (something Edward Norton and Leonardo DiCaprio also point out).  

Jim Carrey, Meryl Streep, 2004

Unfortunately, the AFI, like the rest of Hollywood, does not honor as many women as it does men, and this is inexcusable. (Only seven out of the forty honorees have been women.) But in 2004, they honored arguably the greatest artist alive, Meryl Streep, or, as Jim Carrey claimed, the three nominees in the category of Best Actress Ever. Carrey's schtick is over the top, but that's to be expected, and if you are generally amused by him, then you will love his opening, especially when he gives Streep "advice" that "less is more," then goes into imitations of De Niro and Jack Nicholson, both in attendance.
   

William Shatner, George Lucas, 2005

You'll notice a bit of puzzlement from "Star Wars" alumni Mark Hamill and Harrison Ford as William Shatner (from Lucas' rival/inspiration "Star Trek") comes forward to open the show with mock confusion. "'Star Trek' changed everything," he says. "And aren't these conventions wonderful?" What he does next with a band of Stormtroopers is so perfect, I think it's best to simply watch. 

Mike Myers, Sean Connery 2006

Mike Myers, after noting that he practically owes his career to Sir Sean Connery, is hysterical, particularly when he compares some of Connery's Bond girlfriends (like Pussy Galore) with Myers' first girlfriend, "Closedlegs Finklestein." Unfortunately, though, after the laughs from Myers speech, we have to sit through two hours of bad Connery impressions (though Eddie Izzard's is pretty good). But fortunately, it ends with Connery dancing and giving a terrific speech.    

Robin Williams, Al Pacino 2007

Any AFI show with Robin Williams is a joy, and after a terrific montage of Pacino's great work at the beginning of the show (which, as far as I can tell, is not available on Youtube), Williams, Pacino's co-star from the under-appreciated "Insomnia," notes that the AFI "could've given you this award in 1975, but that would have been a little early" and that after incorrectly claiming Pacino won an Oscar for "Raging Bull," "if you put Robert De Niro in a dryer, you get Al Pacino!" He then leads the audience in one of Pacino's most famous movie lines.   

Betty White, Morgan Freeman, 2011

Betty White sings to Morgan Freeman. I don't think I need to write anything else.  

The showing will be at 9 pm (EST) on TNT with an encore showing on TCM on July 24.  Until then, it's always Springtime for Hitler.    

Okay, one more....

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