TOY STORY 4 - Happy Trails

The Toy Story Trilogy is one of the rare perfect trifectas in film history. An original film that was a trail-blazer in animation, followed up by an unlikely sequel that began as a direct-to-video cash-in then wound up even better than the original, and capped a heartbreaking/warming finale that remains a high water mark for Pixar Animation's signature mixture of whimsy and quietly devastating emotion.

There was absolutely no need for a fourth film.

So, of course, Pixar went and made one anyway, and it's brilliant.

Pixar's original series has always been "about things" even by the standard of somewhat-intelligent children's films. The first is about 2 fathers learning to share custody of a child, the second about realizing kids will one day leave the nest and no longer have need of you, and the third examining the existence of purpose and the meaning of mortality once your initial role as guardian has been fulfilled.

This is where Toy Story 4 opens (after a brief prologue), with Woody (Tom Hanks), Buzz (Tim Allen), and their friends being gifted by the teenage Andy to the 5-year-old Bonnie. At first, it seems like Woody and the gang have a second chance at what they shared with Andy, but it soon becomes clear that - while Bonnie is a loving and imaginative child - her needs are quite different, as is Woody's place in her care. Whereas Andy held him as a favorite and Woody used his proximity to the boy to help run the room and look after the other playthings, Bonnie already has favorite toys who are in charge of looking after her. Woody ends up having to cope with a much smaller support role and spending more time than not in the closet, until Bonnie makes a new favorite toy. The only problem is that "Forky" was constructed from trash and is experiencing an existential crisis at having been brought to life (by Bonnie writing her name on him) and is trying to. . . return to the trash to "end things."

. . . Yeah, it's a lot. And that's just the first 20 minutes or so. Woody latches on to a new purpose of looking after Forky and then, during a family vacation, has to leap into the wild unknown when Forky jumps out of the RV. This results in meeting with doll Gabby Gabby and her creepy dummies at a local antique store as well as a reunion with Bo Peep, an old flame who he'd thought lost but has taken up an adventurous new role looking after other lost toys. Where the third film felt almost apocalyptic from the first act and piled emotional crescendos one after the other, the fourth entry opts to return to the wild adventure with jokes and gags piled on top of each other that defined the 2nd entry, instead of simply working your feelings like a punching bag for 90 straight minutes.

Which isn't to say Pixar doesn't still know how to land an emotional beat (in some ways, this is even more of a "send-off" for the Andy's Room Gang than the third film), but the switch-up in tone and structure gives the film a refreshing feel that alleviates a lot of the potential for feeling like the disposable lark that the film's advertising sold it as. The twist on Bo Peep's character (with Annie Potts digging into some fantastic new material) as well as new additions like Christina Hendricks' Gabby Gabby, Duke Kaboom (Keanu Reeves, proving he's still The Best) and a pair of fuzzy carnival prizes voiced by none other than Key and Peele all add up (along with a tweak to Pixar's recent pattern with "villains") to a movie that feels like a culmination but also a grand romp with new and old friends.

It's also F U N N Y. A gag about Buzz Lightyear's conscience gets a lot of mileage out of what is both a clever in-universe mechanic and a possible meta commentary on Allen, and there's a recurring bit involving Key and Peele's Bunny and Ducky that had me howling during the end credits. Screenwriters Andrew Stanton (of Finding Nemo/Finding Dory) and Stephany Folsom and newcomer director Josh Cooley pack the dialogue and the frame with clever setups and visual gags all the way to the edges, and Hanks puts in arguably his best work as the ragdoll cowboy. It all just. . . works, beautifully.

It absolutely shouldn't have. These movies could have easily ended with 2 and were definitely "meant" to end with 3, and the fact that 4 winds up feeling not just more than perfunctory, but outright necessary to material that the films have been exploring since the very first movie? Well, it's been a hell of a ride.

But they really should be done now. Probably.