“I have no desire to see it,” Quentin Tarantino once famously said of Toy Story 4. ”You literally ended the story as perfect as you could, so no, I don’t care if it’s good. I’m done.”
The notoriously opinionated filmmaker was not alone with this opinion. When Toy Story 4 was first announced in 2014, many people expressed disappointment, confusion, or even outrage. Why tempt fate? Why potentially ruin a perfect thing? When it was finally released in 2019, Toy Story 4 earned positive reviews — and a healthy billion-dollar box-office, which hints at one of the reasons why Disney might want to tempt fate — but it seems to have few die-hard fans, at least not on a par with the first three films.
Yet I would argue that it is better than you think. Better, perhaps even, than you remember. While it admittedly doesn’t quite scale the heady heights of its predecessors, there is a remarkable level of quality here. Like all the best Toy Story films, it’s fresh and funny and it makes you feel things, in a way that deserves and demands repeat viewing.
That it could make you laugh and cry at a spork with googly eyes, for example, is a remarkable achievement in its own right. The hapless, toddler-like Forky (voiced by Tony Hale) is one of the best new characters ever introduced in the franchise, a comically childlike creation. It is very funny to consider that Pixar channelled untold terabytes of its now-astonishing computer power into depicting something so lo-fi and crap-looking. (This is easily the best-looking Toy Story film, rendered with eye-poppingly realistic textures, and aping the anamorphic lenses and light distortions of live-action cinema in its compositions.)
Voiced with chaotic aplomb by Hale — who summons the same kind of manchild anarchy as he did with Arrested Development’s Buster — Forky spends the first third of the film on an effective suicide mission (a bravado move for a kid’s film), certain only of his status as a piece of trash, destined only to be thrown away. His abrupt creation, made in kindergarten from bits of glue by Bonnie, introduces a fascinating bit of worldbuilding logic to the Toy Story universe: what happens when a toy is given consciousness? What happens when the act of “birth” triggers an immediate existential crisis?
Forky, undeniably, is a delightful addition to this heaving ensemble of characters. (If you haven’t already, do familiarise yourself with the philosophical work of art that is Forky Asks A Question, the Disney+ spin-off show in which everyone’s favourite plastic utensil ponders such riddles as “What is time?” or “What is cheese?). But while Forky does eventually accept his status as a toy — just as Buzz did in the first film — it is not his arc which is the secret to Toy Story 4. It’s Woody’s.
When we find Woody at the start of the film, he’s been effectively consigned to the closet, abandoned by Bonnie in favour of other toys, and wondering about his place in the world. His journey in this film is particularly fascinating, given where he has come from across the previous three films. If Toy Story 3 is about Andy growing up, Toy Story 4 is about Woody growing up. The central question at the heart of Toy Story 4 is: what does it mean to be lost?
When Woody reunites with Bo Peep (Annie Potts, finally given a starring role worthy of her talent) — a gorgeously emotional reunion, with levels of yearning and tenderness to compete with the likes of In The Mood For Love or Past Lives — he sees an example of a different life. “I’m not the one who’s lost,” admonishes Bo at one point, practicing Buddhist levels of radical acceptance. While each film in this series ponders the passing of time, the ephemeral nature of what it is to exist in a world that will always leave you behind — this is the first film to seriously consider a life without a kid.
It doesn’t reject the idea of play. Bonnie still takes her toys seriously, and even the film’s nominal villain, Christina Hendricks’ Gabby Gabby, earns a redemption and a happy ending with a new child. But Toy Story 4 suggests that other paths are possible — that toys can have transferable skills, can retrain into other career paths. Woody and Bo can make a life for themselves outside of the comfort of a child’s bedroom, live as free spirits, as travelling nomads. What a concept!
Of course, it’s perfectly possible to enjoy the film beyond its lofty ideas — it is, in fact, among the funniest films of the now-five, full of razor-sharp jokes and visual grace notes: from Giggle McDimples (Ally Maki) taking a tiny car journey, to Combat Carl (Carl Weathers) left hanging for a high five, to Bunny and Ducky (Jordan Peele and Keegan-Michael Key) describing in detail how they plan to maul an elderly lady, to Duke Caboom (Keanu Reeves), “Canada’s greatest stuntman”, showing off his many, many poses. Mel Brooks even cameos as Melephant Brooks.
And for Millennials like me, who grew up wearing out the Toy Story tapes on the family VHS player, it is just goddamn emotional to be reminded of your childhood in yet another light. Director Josh Cooley decides, wisely, to begin the film in the most obvious possible way: with Randy Newman’s ‘You’ve Got A Friend In Me’. It’s a choice that just hit me right in the gut, the first time I saw it: like Anton Ego, eating his mum’s home cooking in Pixar stablemate Ratatouille, I was instantly transported back to my childhood. It still hits. This is Pixar’s flagship franchise, the friend it will always turn to, and Toy Story 4 remains a beautifully made, heartfelt, thoughtful and funny piece of work, and the beginning of what could be another legendary trilogy. Quentin, give it some thought.
Read why the original Toy Story is the best Toy Story movie
Read why Toy Story 2 is the best Toy Story movie
Read why Toy Story 3 is the best Toy Story movie
Toy Story 4 is streaming now on Disney+
