Video review: "Toy Story 4"

I enjoyed “Toy Story 4,” though I’m not terribly happy they made it.

That may sound strange, but here’s why: “Toy Story 3” was a very conscious end to the animated franchise. In it the child Andy, now all grown into a young man, gave away his toys to little Bonnie, and quite literally rode off into the sunset.

Cowboy Woody (voice of Tom Hanks), Buzz (Tim Allen) and the rest of the toys, who come to life when humans aren’t around, had completed their life’s journey and started anew.

Watching them come back for another romp that’s fun but hardly up to the standards of the other movies is like going to see a favorite singer who’s now aged and can’t hold the notes anymore. You enjoy being around him, but can’t help thinking it would’ve been better for everyone if he’d hung it up.

In this story the toy gang finds themselves in a remote mountain village, where Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks) is the evil/warped toy du jour. She’s of roughly the same vintage as Woody, and resents that she never got a child of her own.

The big twist is the return of Bo Peep (Annie Potts), Woody’s former girlfriend who disappeared long ago. She’s now a free-living, adventure-seeking “lost toy” who embraces her independence.

As I said, I doubt anyone who likes these movies will fail to be entertained by “Toy Story 4.” But let’s put it this way: I had to look up my review of the movie from just three months ago, because the story and details had already faded from my memory.

That never happened with the other “Toy Story” movies. They stick in the mind and the heart.

Bonus features are pretty good. There’s an audio commentary track, six deleted scenes and the following documentary shorts: “Toy Stories,” “Woody & Buzz,” “Bo Rebooted,” “Toy Box” and “Let’s Ride With Ally Maki.”

Digital-only material includes one additional deleted scene and another featurette, “Anatomy of a Scene: Prologue.”

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Review: "Toy Story 4"

“Toy Story 4” is like one last rodeo with the old gang, an unexpected revival long after we thought they’d retired. It doesn’t have the energy or emotionality of any of the others, but it’s nice to see the old-timers back up to their old tricks.

A fourth feature for the cornerstone Pixar Animation franchise seems unnecessary. After all, the third one from nine years ago felt like a very conspicuous wrapping of the bow, as the little family of toys who come to life when people aren’t around were passed on from Andy, now all grown up, to adorable pre-K Bonnie.

And yet, here we are.

Not much time has passed since Bonnie became “their kid,” although a flashback to nine years earlier shows us how Bo Peep (Annie Potts), the love interest of Woody the cowboy sheriff (Tom Hanks), disappeared between the second and third movies. It seems she didn’t share Woody’s enthusiasm for “always being there” for their kid, so when Andy’s sister decided to pass Bo on to another child, she was ready to go.

She returns triumphantly, in a much more athletic iteration than we remember. Eschewing her modest shepherdess’ cape and laughing off a broken arm kept attached with tape, Bo swings and swoops all around using her hooked staff and a bottomless reserve of guts. She embraces her status as a “lost toy” free of human constraints.

She’s practically a toy superhero.

When Bonnie’s family goes on a road trip in an RV, it reveals fractures in the toy universe. Woody chafes at no longer being the head toy calling the shots. Even worse, he’s fallen out of Bonnie’s rotation of favored toys, often relegated to the back of the closet during playtime.

Still, his sense of loyalty remains true when Bonnie goes off to kindergarten and creates a toy of her own from a plastic spork and pipe cleaners. Woody and the gang are surprised when the creature springs to life, raising all sorts of metaphysical questions about the Toy Story universe.

Dubbed Forky (voice of Tony Hale), the new tribe member at first is very confused and self-endangering. Since he was made out of spare parts, he insists that he’s trash and keeps trying to escape to the nearest garbage bin, requiring repeated rescuing from Woody.

At first I thought this was an attempt to introduce a mentally challenged toy, which would’ve been an interesting development. But Forky gets wiser with time, and eventually grows to embrace the toy ethos.

Part of his tutelage comes at the knee of Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks), a vintage toy stuck in an antique shop in the mountain town of Grand Basin. She’s seemingly benevolent, but resents that she’s never had a kid to call her own. She blames it on her malfunctioning voice box, and sets her designs on claiming Woody’s.

Gabby is portrayed as more misguided than evil, though she employs a force of identical ventriloquist dolls who act as her muscle, and are as creepy as all get out.

Other new characters include Duke Caboom (Keanu Reeves), a Canadian motorcycle daredevil who’s lost his nerve; Giggle McDimples (Ally Maki), a pint-sized police officer who acts as Bo’s shoulder-riding sidekick; and Bunny and Ducky (Jordan Peele and Keegan-Michael Key), a pair of long-suffering plush toys stitched together hand-to-hand who’ve spent an eternity as the top prize at a malfunctioning carnival duck hunt arcade.

Directed by Josh Cooley from a screenplay by Andrew Stanton and Stephany Folsom, “Toy Story 4” is easily the weakest of the series, but it’s still a fun ride. It seems the sendoff was not their final bow, and they’re destined to keep collecting nostalgia curtain calls.

Video review: "The End of the Tour"

More people bought tickets for “Fifty Shades of Grey” on its 17th day in release than did for “The End of the Tour” during its entire theatrical run. We get the cinema we deserve, people.

This amazing film, one of the year’s best, is the story of two young writers who connect and clash in 1996. David Foster Wallace has just published his novel “Infinite Jest” to great acclaim. David Lipsky is interviewing him for Rolling Stone magazine, at his own insistence.

As introverted men of similar backgrounds who live through their words, there is a natural affinity between them, but also a large potential for antipathy. Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg), whose own novel has just flopped, envies Wallace for his success. Every question he puts forward seems to have the unspoken addendum, “Why you and not me?”

Wallace – played by Jason Segel, in a career-changing performance – is defensive, outwardly shy but with an iron inner core of ego. He can’t stand the idea of somebody else drafting the narrative that will define him. He senses Lipsky’s resentment, and responds with indignation.

It’s the story of two guys who, in other circumstances, might have become best of friends but are nudged toward hostility by professional jealousy and circumstance. Looming over it all is the weight of knowledge about Wallace’s death in 2008 by suicide, which acts as a framing device for the story.

If you don’t think 106 minutes of essentially nothing more than two guys talking can’t be exhilarating, then prepare to be shocked. “The End of the Tour” deserves our attention.

Bonus features are quite good, anchored by a feature-length audio commentary track by director James Ponsoldt, screenwriter Donald Margulies and Segel. Though the absence of Eisenberg nettles, the best commentaries come when all three legs of the core creative triad – writing, acting, directing – are represented.

There are also deleted scenes, an interview with composer Danny Elfman and a making-of documentary short. Extras are the same for DVD and Blu-ray versions.

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Review: "The End of the Tour"

“The End of the Tour” is simultaneously a great character study and possibly the best portrait of writers I’ve ever seen.

It’s essentially a two-person conversation that takes place over the course of five days in 1996. Both are youngish men who have recently published books. One is famous, the other is not. The less celebrated one is writing a profile of the famous one for Rolling Stone magazine while he finishes up his book tour.

They grow friendly, but jealousy and resentment are always close at hand. They circle each other warily, tribal companions and combatants harboring their own stakes and agendas. Theirs is a magnificent, haunting dance of intellects and emotions.

David Foster Wallace is the celebrated novelist, whose “Infinite Jest” has just been released to spectacular acclaim and predictions of major awards. His dense, playful style of writing, replete with extensive endnotes and citations, seemed a precursor to today’s hyperlinked, hyperactive style of information consumption.

He plays up his regular-guy image, teaching at an unremarkable Illinois state college, wearing bandanas and hanging out with his slobbering dogs and select friends. Wallace killed himself in 2008 at age 46.

David Lipsky is the interviewer, a few years younger and whose own novel, “The Art Fair,” has been much more modestly received. An early scene shows him reciting at a sparsely-attended book reading, so later when he looks out over the packed room for Wallace’s final book tour appearance, we understand how that stiffens his spine.

In Wallace, Lipsky beholds someone more accomplished and wants to capture that, understand it, and thereby ensure his own ascent.

Director James Ponsoldt (“The Spectacular Now”) and screenwriter Donald Margulies reveal many things about both men in “The End of the Tour,” but also hold back in other ways. For instance, Wallace never produced another novel while alive. (An unfinished work was published posthumously.) He mostly turned to nonfiction and essays, even penning for Rolling Stone.

Meanwhile, Lipsky’s article was never actually published in the magazine. The interview essentially became memories and a box of old tape recordings. Lipsky dug them out after Wallace’s passing and turned it into the book, “Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself,” upon which this movie is based.

Jason Segel plays Wallace. Yes, that Jason Segel – the pants-dropping comic everyman of “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” and TV’s “How I Met Your Mother.” If you can’t conceive of him giving a layered, dramatic turn, just remember that many funnymen have gone on to become serious actors. I believe this film will do for Segel what “Moscow on the Hudson” did for Robin Williams.

It’s a career-changing, stand-up-and-take-notice kind of performance.

Jesse Eisenberg plays Lipsky. It’s a tight, precise portrayal, the sort of thing we’ve come to expect from the actor from “The Social Network.” His Lipsky is nebbishy and charming, sort of a modern-day Woody Allen type. He’s ambitious and can be ruthless when pushed, but he genuinely likes Wallace and wants to get inside his head.

Plot-wise, the story essentially just follows Lipsky as he follows Wallace to Minneapolis for the last leg of his book tour. They spend almost every minute together, driving in cars, riding in planes, hanging in the downtime. Lipsky keeps his recorder going the whole time, an old-style cassette job with an oversized microphone, one of which every journalist of a certain age probably has stashed somewhere. The tape machine becomes a virtual third character, an omnipresent reminder that their conversations are “on the record” and posterity is listening.

The men talk about writing, depression, addiction, sex, television, having kids, the intangible appeal of Alanis Morissette and other topics. It’s fascinating to watch the tidal ebb and flow of trust, as Wallace starts out very reticent to reveal himself, then slowly opens up, only to recede back into himself when he starts to think Lipsky is playing him.

And Lipsky is playing him -- from a journalistic perspective. He peeks into the guy’s medicine cabinet and writes down the contents, makes notes after a middle-of-the-night heartfelt conversation, and declines to order an alcoholic beverage because, he tells Wallace, he respects the 12-step process. It’s Lipsky’s way of letting Wallace know he knows about past substance abuse problems.

These are the sorts of things reporters routinely do as part of the job that outsiders would doubtless regard as monumentally crummy. Intrusive? You just defined journalism.

Better than any film I can think of, “The End of the Tour” captures and crystallizes what it’s like to be inside the head of people who live through words. Eisenberg and Segel are magnificent conduits into the writer’s darkest corners.

Review: "Mars Needs Moms"

"Mars Needs Moms" is the sort of movie that will be enjoyed by small children and endured by their parents. It feels like an amalgamation of other films' styles and storylines, assembled by a marketing department bent on hitting a demographic sweet spot rather than artists following their muse.

It's also the sort of movie that you need only watch the two minutes of its trailer to know what's in the other 86. An Earth kid named Milo watches his mom abducted by Martians, tags along as a stowaway, gets into all sorts of scrapes with the funny-looking aliens, befriends a human rapscallion living in the Martian junkyard, and Life Lessons are duly imparted.

This film held zero surprises for me. I knew everything that was going to happen before it did, right down to the big emotional scene near the end when Milo's mom shows the sacrifices a parent is prepared to make for their child.

It's a nice moment, but it's never a good thing when the audience knows exactly where a movie is going, and waits impatiently for it to arrive.

"Mars" is being released by Disney, but it was actually made by Robert Zemeckis' motion-capture studio. Zemeckis, a highly successful director of live-action films like "Forrest Gump," famously switched to computer animation with live actors performing their scenes in special suits, which animators then paint over
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I'm all for new technological toys, as long as they're used in the service of telling a story. Motion capture gave us the triumph of Gollum in the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, but I can't really see what it adds to "Mars."

Milo spends most of his time bouncing around in the lighter gravity of the red planet, navigating the tubes and tunnels of their underworld, so a photo-realistic depiction of how a real kid moves isn't even appropriate.

And here's a curious thing: The movie "stars" Seth Green as Milo, because he performed the actions in front of a green screen for the motion capture, but a child actor named Seth Robert Dusky provides the voice. So who really "played" Milo?

If nothing else, this film will force the Screen Actors Guild to revisit their bylaws.

Joan Cusack plays his harried mom, who looks almost exactly like Joan Cusack, which isn't too much of a stretch since she was born to play a cartoon. Dan Fogler plays Gribble, a well-fed human tech nerd subsisting in the Martians' vast subterranean trash cave.

Mindy Sterling is the Supervisor, the stern and very wrinkled leader of the Martians, who resemble humans with extra-wide hips and oval heads like Stewie from TV's "Family Guy." The Supervisor spies on the Earth looking for especially stern mothers, whom she kidnaps so can zap the disciplinarian juice out of them, or something, which she then uses to program the robot nannies who raise Martian babies. (Well, half of them anyway...)

It's a strange world, and one I didn't entirely buy -- even in cartoon form. The film is based on a children's book by "Bloom County" creator Berkeley Breathed, adapted for the screen by Simon and Wendy Wells, with Simon directing.

The Wellses find it necessary to have Milo self-narrate what's happening to him, as if the audience can't see for themselves: "I'm on a spaceship!" "A world of trash!" Truly annoying.

The only real light in "Mars Needs Mom" is the character of Ki, a rebellious Martian played by Elisabeth Harnois. Ki is secretly a graffiti artist who talks like a hippie, having learned English from 1960s Earth television.

Whoever drew Ki added a little crinkle to her cheeks when she smiles, and it's like something of pure spontaneous joy escaping from the factory.


1.5 stars out of four

Reeling Backward: "My Bodyguard" (1980)

It's always amazing what movies stick with you and why. I watched "My Bodyguard" when I was 10 years old, and I don't think I saw it again in the ensuing 30 years, until now. And yet this film has stayed with me, and I've thought about it often.

It might not surprise you to learn that I was bullied when I was in school. (What? A geeky film critic bullied?) I'm not proud to say that I stopped taking the bus and began riding my bike to junior high school to avoid a particularly nasty cretin who liked to sit behind people and flick earlobes with a force that seemed not possible for 14-year-old fingers.

Of course, one good smack in the nose would've silenced him, but it is the nature of the bullied to have blinders to obvious solutions. One lives in a constant state of fear, and the consequences of standing up seem much more dire than quietly taking the abuse, and hoping the bully will grow bored and shift his attention to a juicier target.

Fear is the coin of the realm for bullies, one they know how to leverage well.

In virtually all contemporary iterations of cinematic bullies, they are simply victims who themselves have been pushed around, and pass on the cycle of abuse to others. I think this is usually poppycock in comparison to real life. Bullies bully because they like doing it. They enjoy the power and being the center of attention.

Perhaps my bias is why I've always liked "My Bodyguard," since the bully is never granted a redemptive moment. He's simply a jerk, and will continue being one until someone puts a stop to it.

The bully, Melvin Moody, was memorably played by Matt Dillon in his very first screen role. Adam Baldwin, playing the title character, also made his film debut. Ditto for Joan Cusack, who has a small but memorable role as a geeky girl with a crush on Moody, and Jennifer Beals, who had an uncredited bit part as one of Moody's hangers-on.

Chris Makepeace was the veteran of the group, having appeared in "Meatballs" a year earlier. "My Bodyguard" more or less marked the height of his career. With his curly mop of hair and big, wet eyes, Makepeace prompted me to make (derisive) comparisons to Shia LaBeouf early in his career, and I think the resemblance, both physically and the range of roles LaBeouf has pulled off, still holds.

One thing about "My Bodyguard" that sets it apart from most movies starring teenagers that followed: They're actually played by teen actors. Dillon and Makepeace would both turn 16 the year the film came out; Beals was 17; Cusack 18. Even Baldwin, playing scary troubled high school sophomore Ricky Linderman, who looms over his classmates like a surly giant, was 18.

Nowadays, filmmakers prefer actors comfortably past their pimples-and-awkwardness years.

The film was directed by Tony Bill, in his first outing, from an original screenplay by Alan Ormsby. It's set in Chicago and was shot there. Despite my fondness for the notion of bullies getting their comeuppance, that's not the part of the movie that lingered for me.

The Moody plot is disposed with in a little over a half-hour, with the bully refusing to take on Linderman after Clifford Peache (Makepeace), the put-upon newcomer, convinces the hulking outcast to be his bodyguard. Moody returns for the final act, with an older tough brought on as his bodyguard to run off Linderman, which succeeds for awhile until the final fisticuffs -- first between Linderman and the thug, and then (improbably but satisfyingly) between Clifford and Moody.

No, the middle third is where this movie's heart lies. It's the slowly growing bond between these two lonely boys, both pushed into rebel roles they never sought. Linderman was content to stand outside the school's social structure, and the last thing Clifford wanted was to become the symbol of an uprising against Moody, who'd been extorting protection money from half the school.

Although he lives in comfort and gets picked up and dropped off by a limousine, Clifford is not rich: Just the son of the manager of a swanky hotel manger, played by Martin Mull. His grandmother is played by Ruth Gordon, and she's a troublemaking sexpot who likes to pick up older gentlemen in the hotel lounge. It's the sort of horny grandma role that would inevitably be played by Betty White if the film was made today.

But there's some soul and depth to the old gal. While she's reading Linderman's palm, Clifford notices some scars on his wrist -- it wasn't until years later I realized these were the result of an implied attempted suicide. Linderman, his shell of impervious indifference pierced, pulls back his hand. Gordon sternly holds on: "You're among friends here, you're among friends."

This is when we realize Linderman is not the tough guy he's been made out to be. He's shattered by the accidental shooting of his kid brother a year earlier, and his mask of belligerance hides a frightened youngster who hates himself.

In this light, it's not surprising that Linderman backs down from Moody's hired thug later on -- even allowing him to smash up the motorcycle he spent years restoring, with a little help from Clifford. It may well be that Linderman had never been in a fight before. He'd relied on his reputation and his size to keep the likes of Moody at bay, but he too reacts to a bully with freezing fear.

The bodyguard who's never thrown a punch: What an audacious concept. I think that's why I keep coming back to "My Bodyguard" -- it continually reveals new layers of truth about what it's really like to be a teenager, whether an outcast, a bully or the bullied.

3 stars out of four

Video review: "Toy Story 3"

The first "Toy Story" effectively launched the computer animation revolution, and by the time the sequel came out four years later, the war was over. "Toy Story 3," arriving 11 years after the second film, is like the return of the conquering emperor to survey his domain.

After spooning up more than $1 billion in box office sales, it's clear that despite challenges from some upstarts, Pixar remains the animation king.

"Toy Story 3" takes place in roughly real time. Andy is now a grown man about to depart for college, leaving Woody (Tom Hanks), Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), Jessie the Cowgirl (Joan Cusack) and the rest of the gang uncertain about their fate.

After some misadventures, they end up at Sunnyside Day Care, where a cuddly bear named Lotso (Ned Beatty) calls the shots. At first it looks heaven for old toys, what with the never-ending supply of children needing toys to play with.

But before long a nasty pecking order is revealed, and the toys long to go home -- even if it means a lengthy downtime in the attic.

Besides Lotso, the other top new addition to the mix is Ken (Michael Keaton), the original metrosexual. When he's not acting as the big bear's right-hand flunky, Ken is obsessed with collecting every fashion accessory available -- until he lays his plastic eyes on Barbie, of course.

Fun, adventurous and with a strong dose of pathos, "Toy Story 3" reminds us what a great golden age of animation in which we find ourselves.

Bonus features are simply stupendous.

Interestingly, there's a completely different set of extras with the DVD and Blu-ray versions. The Blu-ray/DVD combo pack includes both sets of goodies, plus a few more -- not to mention a digital copy of the film.

There's so much stuff, in fact, that it's impossible to catalogue it all. The following is just highlights.
DVD: "Day and Night" short film; new epilogue; Buzz Lightyear Mission Logs; "Paths to Pixar," "Studio Stories" and "A Toy's Eye View" featurettes.

Blu-ray: Interactive feature with director Lee Unkrich; commentary track; trivia game; Ken's Dating Tips; commercial for Lotso; featurettes on the Western opening sequence, saying goodbye to Andy and Pixar's "Accidental Toymakers."

In addition to these, the combo pack boasts several other featurettes and making-of docs, including a look back on the trilogy, with all the various toys who have appeared and the actors who provided the voices.

Movie: 4 stars out of four
Extras: 4 stars

Review: "Toy Story 3"

It's been 15 years since the first "Toy Story" came out, and it's not an exaggeration to say it changed the face of animation forever.

Back then, it seemed a new golden age of hand-drawn creativity was upon us: "Beauty and the Beast," "Aladdin," "The Lion King." Then some folks at a little upstart company called Pixar decided computers could do the job even better.

Within a few years -- certainly by 1999, when the wonderful "Toy Story 2" came out -- it was clear CG was the new king. Flash another decade later, and it was actually a novelty when Disney made a new hand-animated movie, "The Princess and the Frog," released last winter to modest success.

But with "Toy Story 3" now gracing theaters -- and coming not a moment too soon to save us from one of the most dismal summer of movies in memory -- we're reminded that it isn't the canvas or the paint that matters, but the vision of the artist. It's not about dazzling us with coolest new visual technique, but crafting a story and characters that touch us and take us somewhere unexpected.

In short: The wizards at Pixar have done it again.

It's been 11 years since we hung out with Woody, Buzz Lightyear, Jessie the Cowgirl, Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head and the rest of the gang. Seeing them again is both nostalgic and exciting, like old friends come to visit after a lengthy absence.

The toys haven't changed much, of course. But their child, Andy, is all grown up and ready to leave for college. In the hubbub of moving out, the toys get put into the wrong bag and nearly are thrown out before the timely intervention of cowboy leader Woody (voice by Tom Hanks).

Instead, they end up donated to Sunnyside, a daycare center that at first looks like toy heaven on earth. There's tons of toys already there, but also dozens of kids to play with them. Even though, like Andy, the children will grow up and grow bored with them, every year brings a new batch.

"No owners means no heartbreak," intones Lotso (a terrific Ned Beatty), the cuddly old bear -- his name is short for Lots-o-Huggin' -- who runs the show at Sunnyside.

Woody, though, wants the gang to return to Andy so they can "be there for him," even if that means being consigned to the attic for awhile. And it turns out daycare has a nasty pecking order straight out of Orwell's "Animal Farm."

I guess some toys are created more equal than others.

One of the main subplots involves Barbie (Jodi Benson) being introduced to Ken (Michael Keaton). They were literally made for each other, of course, but in their universe they've never met before and instantly fall in love. Though Barbie does have reservations about Ken being Lotso's right-hand toy -- not to mention having an obsession with fashion accessories that's unbecoming even for the original boy toy.

Buzz (Tim Allen) kind of gets shunted to the side in this outing, though an accident triggers some special powers even he didn't know he had.

Mr. Potato Head is sent on a mission that involves detaching all his limbs, eyes, mouth, etc. and using other objects as a temporary host for his consciousness. This has all sorts of metaphysical implications begging for a serious philosophy dissertation: Does the soul reside in the heart? Or the mustache?

"Toy Story 3" is a great new adventure with a grand old gang, and I for one would love to have another -- just don't make us wait another 11 years for it.

I do have to add a note of caution: Despite the G rating, the film contains a scene of genuine terror, when it appears the toys will meet their doom, that may prove disturbing to little ones. Several tykes at the screening I attended visibly recoiled -- heck, I got a bit of the shivers.
All kidding aside, a PG probably would've been more appropriate.

Also, "Toy Story 3" is preceded by a 6-minute animated short, "Day & Night." It's a fun little diversion about two creatures whose bodies are windows to the same scene at different times of day. But I'd say it was done mostly for the amusement of the animators who created it, and isn't up to the usual, high standard for Pixar shorts.

3.5 stars out of four