Pixar – Its Legacy and Current State

I’ve been observing Pixar since 1995 when they released their first full-length film, Toy Story. I remember staring in awe at the movie screen, amazed by the characters and colors and comedy-drama that was a seamless, nonstop adventure. It was unprecedented, seeing this computerized style of animation: I’d gotten so use to Disney traditions of cell shading and musical numbers that to seeing Woody and Buzz bicker like a old married couple was an a fresh breath of air into my world of movies. 

Fifteen years later and I’ve seen Pixar progress from a studio that once rented a small rented complex in Point Richmond with half-built cubicles to the sleek, Apple-esque building commissioned by none other than Steve Jobs. I’ve seen the studio transition from A Bug’s Life to Monster’s, Inc. and missed seeing Finding Nemo in theaters (one of my biggest regrets). I’ve seen them tread lighter tides  in Cars to darker ones in The Incredibles. I’ve read and seen how Pixar and Disney’s relation strained and reconciled after Eisner’s handling of the studio’s creative assets essentially violated the artist’s code of honor. I’ve seen Brad Bird and Michael Arndt and, more recently, Gary Rydstrom and Brenda Chapman, join the Pixar Brain Trust which includes John Lasseter, Bob Peterson, Lee Unkrich, Pete Docter, and my favorite of all Andrew Stanton. One of my best friend’s brother works there as a computer programmer, and she’s been able to tour the studio and attend the San Francisco premiere of Wall•E in 2008, which was arguably the height of Pixar’s Golden originals, the last of the stories the original brain trust of Stanton, Lasseter, Docter and the late Joe Ranft brainstormed in 1994 at Hidden City Cafe, Point Richmond. 

Since Wall•E I’ve begun to observe Pixar’s current progression – their projects, their business dealings, their press, their critical reception – and, based on blogs (primarily The Pixar Blog), newspaper articles and interviews of animators, directors, and producers, I’ve noticed something: it’s possible that Pixar might be in creative limbo post-Wall•E. 

By creative limbo, I’m not talking about mediocrity; I’m speaking specifically about how their stories are constructed and what they thematically explore. Wall•E, The Incredibles and Ratatouille arguably present some of the more mature and adult thematics than their counterparts, which are inevitably appealing to general movie goers for their childhood charm and loving craftsmanship. 

Now with their two recent releases post-Hidden Cafe meeting, Up last year and Toy Story 3 this year, I’m beginning to see a certain pattern in their storytelling:

• Including Wall•E, Up and Toy Story 3 all present some serious thematics that are usually unexplored in stories that appeal to children (and in Pixar’s case, to adults as well). These themes include a dystopia resulting from destructive consumerism, the emotional pull of love and how death severs its reciprocation, and the difficulty of transitioning from an adolescent high schooler to a young college adult (as well as what it feels like to not change so much while everything else around changes – from the toys’ perspective, at least). 
• To not distraught viewers too much, Pixar writers pad out a secondary story in conjunction with the main thematic. This secondary story is usually less serious, more fun and more adventure-oriented; in a sense, it’s “fluff,” but it’s so well done that for the most part people don’t really care. The best example would be the Sunnyside portion of Toy Story 3, where the secondary story revolved around Woody and the gang breaking out of the dystopian daycare. This secondary story is easily stand alone from the more emotional and overarching thematic, which is Andy’s transition period from teenage adolescence to college life, and how he, Woody and the toys cope with their memories of one another and how things have changed since then. 
• However some viewers and critics have noted or been affected by the discrepancy in tone between the main thematics and secondary stories; for instance, Stephanie Zacharek disliked the second half of Wall•E because it was significantly less thematic and more “cartoon-y” than the first half; Roger Ebert felt that the toys in Toy Story 3 would be overwhelmingly traumatized by the ordeal they went through during the secondary story that was fleshed out during the middle arc; I personally think the opening of Up was pure brilliance, and right after the marriage montage ended the secondary story took over the rest of the movie, from the cute Korean-American kid Russell to dutiful Dug to Kevin the girl. 

Pixar’s writing team has demonstrated in their three most recent films a interesting pattern of narration. Like Disney’s The Lion King, these three films – Wall•E, Up, and Toy Story 3 – pushed into more mature realms than most other Pixar films. Now it could easily be said that Brad Bird’s The Incredibles and Ratatouille also explored more mature themes as well, but the difference is that Bird’s films are allegorical – the former on social acceptability (with a subtext about adultery that Bird copped out on at the end) and the latter on criticism – and are, in a sense, narratively, emotionally and thematically seamless, while these three more recent films are, to an extent, inconsistent regarding these three characteristics. Like The Lion King, which intensely hailed of Hamlet’s drama up until the point of Hakuna Matata, Wall•E, Up and Toy Story 3 begin digging into exceptionally difficult themes but shy away just enough to make room for a secondary story that invariably pulls audiences in, though to varying degrees. For instance: 

• Wall•E suffers from the differing tone between the first and second of the film, the difference solely being location – abandoned earth during the first, the AXIOM during the second. The Simpson’s-esque slapstick humor of the AXIOM contrasted sharply with the quieter moments of Wall•E and EVE together on earth (though to be fair, it’s always funny to poke fun at OCD germaphobes). 
• Up emotionally enraptures from its opening sequence until Eli’s death, which was one of the saddest death scenes I’ve seen in awhile. However, Carl’s road to emotional recovery is overshadowed by an adventure filled with cute (but alas, unnecessary) side characters that are cheerful and bubbly and everything the audience wants after something devastating. 
• Toy Story 3 tackles some of the least explored and most difficult thematics – the transition from childhood, feeling significant even though things have changed, and holding onto the memories that bind us all. However, the middle arc – which is exciting, thrilling and hilarious – by virtue of its length, muffled out some of the weight and emotional complexity of the main thematic, leaving some viewers (most who were not familiar with or were never attached to the original two movies and characters) feeling emotionally hollow by the time the credits rolled. 

Make no mistake – in no way do I think any of these mentioned films are bad (in fact, Wall•E happens to be on my list of personal favorites). They are entertaining, smart, moving, and lovingly crafted, which is a big deal given how so many productions – live and animated – fall through due to creative differences and other extenuating circumstances that could stretch out over a mile in qualms and complaints. 

Pixar is a superb animation studio, no doubt about that. They’ve always had the benefit of not following in Walt Disney’s footsteps: instead of relying on the same musical number format and adaptations of other stories (“distillations,” some might say), Pixar sprinted out with original stories and never depended on Alan Menken broadway sashays (though Randy Newman has been on board for a lot of Pixar films; I’m glad Michael Giacchino and Thomas Newman are also Pixar veterans in lieu of ol’ Randy singing about). And for awhile, besides the Toy Story franchise, Pixar avoided penning sequels that, to us embittered fans, echoed too resiliently of Michael Eisner’s infamous direct-to-video sequel reign and more recently, Dreamwork’s extension of the Shrek franchise (the first film was brilliant, but its successors effectively shut me off from being emotionally engaged with Shrek and Donkey and Fiona again). However, after hearing that Pixar is in production for Cars 2 and Monsters, Inc. 2, and even possibly looking at Finding Nemo 2 and 3 after a original story, Newt, was effectively shut down during production, I worry: is one of my favorite studios becoming too big too fast, and now too established to take more risks like before? 

I ask this because like any large, successful institution, there’s always an increasing pressure to take less risks since the stakes are higher – marketing, investors, employees, management, everything. When Pixar first started out in the little Point Richmond complex, they essentially had nothing to lose: the main focus was to write a great story and make a great movie, period. Fifteen years later and Pixar has essentially become a celebrity studio, ironically in the same vein of Disney animation; there are thousands of fans, and I assume there’s much more bureaucracy to be dealt with when getting a project greenlit. The safest bet is always to start from a established narrative that was successful, as there will always be fans of the original story who want to see another adventure in the same universe fleshed out. 

Maybe I’m worrying too much. Pixar may very well still be in its Golden age of originality, and at this very moment are concocting up a savory dish of films that I’m sure we’ll all love. Regardless, I think it’s important and interesting to consider where they currently are as a studio, and to see whether or not they continue creating films that are universally appealing or begin entering more mature grounds like The Iron Giant, Princess Mononoke or even Akira. Obviously imagining Pixar making a film as dark and adult as Akira is pushing it a bit, but it’s still an interesting gradient to consider – that is, how much more “mature” are they willing to push, and will they push for it without fluff? 

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Here’s hoping for some more Pixarian quality, which I’m sure I won’t be disappointed by lack thereof. 

Additional Links/Readings

• Wall•E trailer released on 2007 – Shows a nice montage of how the original Pixar Brain Trust met at Hidden City Cafe and brainstormed out all their movies from A Bug’s Life to Wall•E. 

• Pixar Canada – a nice article about Pixar’s expansion to Vancouver, Canada. 

• Monkey Shines: Meet the Breakout Star of Toy Story 3 – a New York Times interview with a character from Lee Unkrich’s directorial debut (warning: it is awesome)

Toy Story 3 - The Memories that Bind Us All

“Toy Story 3” is an amazing feat in storytelling. It accomplishes so many things in only 103 minutes that other trilogies and sequels – Star Wars, Back to the Future, Spider-Man, Indiana Jones, Ocean’s Eleven, The Matrix – never came close to: creating a film that is simultaneously continuous and very capable of being a stand alone. It is moving, smart, funny, dark, scary, sad, hopeful – all in an ingeniously conclusive end to one of the most beloved American stories that further reaffirms Pixar as a master of storytelling and animation. 

Warning: minor, mild and major spoilers in the article. 

It must be noted that all images of “Toy Story 3” were taken directly from trailers or were promotional stills released by Pixar. 

The Beginnings of Pixar’s Wonder and Magic

The original “Toy Story” captured the hearts of every viewer, for we all remembered our childhood filled with boundless imagination and innocence shared with and acted through our toys. It not only created incredibly human characters out of toys – pride, romance, jealously, insecurity, rational, etcetera – but established the sacredness, timelessness and preciousness of love shared between child and toy. Absolutely illogical and pure. Beautiful. 

“Toy Story 2” hinted about toy economics, specifically about their ultimate value and fate – would they become a priceless collectible or indistinguishable trash? We all know eventually a majority of childhood tokens will break, be sold or given away; such is the invariability of growth, maturity and time. However, in “Toy Story 2” Andy is still a boy and still very much in love with his toys, and that to prematurely succumb to the temptation of being a pristine collectible was unwise and ultimately unattractive – at the time, it was much more important and valuable for Woody to remain as Andy’s treasured toy, tossed and bounced and played about in pure bouts of love and joy. 

Both movies are classical childhood tales, tales based off imagination and incredibly human emotions. The politics and economics commanding the toys were hinted, but only enough to not distract away from the main focus of a child’s unbounded love for his toys. It was pure imaginative genius, touching and invaluable in message all at once – the touch of Pixar’s creative process and dedicated team. 

Unfortunately, Pixar’s genius was not valued by everyone when it first started. 

Eisner and the business of Circle 7

“Toy Story 3” was not originally planned by Pixar, nor was “Toy Story 2.” Both sequels were the result of Disney’s management and its desire to take over Pixar’s creative reins, spearheaded none other than Michael Eisner. 

Some of you remember all those terrible direct-to-video sequels that looked and felt like nothing the original theatrical releases:  "Aladdin 2: Jafar’s Return,“ "Pocahontas 2: Journey to a New World,” “The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride” – remember these guys? They had Eisner written all over them. He saw creativity as a product to be reaped and sowed and drained for all its worth. To him, the magic and wonder of Disney’s legendary status was nothing more than a profit margin, a business model. He considered Pixar no differently. 

“Toy Story 2” was initially a direct-to-video sequel, but upon seeing the in-work imagery Disney executives were so impressed that they requested it be turned into a theatrical release; however, the creative team at Pixar were not happy with the work, eventually getting John Lasseter back on board to rewrite the entire script and finish the film in a period of nine months (leading to some animators getting repetitive stress injuries) in order to meet Disney’s deadline. Additionally, since Disney felt that “Toy Story 2” was negotiated outside of five-picture deal they had with Pixar, it would not be counted as one of the films. This negotiation left a poor spot for Pixar, the first of many they would soon have with Disney’s CEO, Michael Eisner. In his own words, Eisner believed that “all creative teams go in cycles, and Pixar is riding for a fall." 

Nice man. 

Hoping to bully Pixar into a new contract that would ultimately favor Disney’s executive control over Pixar’s creative rights, Eisner created Circle 7 Animation to franchise Pixar’s characters and stories – it was exactly like his scheme with the flux of direct-to-video sequels during the Disney renaissance all over again. Circle 7’s first production would be "Toy Story 3,” in which Buzz Lightyear would have a defect, be shipped off to Taiwan, then on some adventure Andy’s toys go to rescue him as Buzz met some new friends along the way (in a sense, it was a carbon copy of “Toy Story 2’s” plot). 

The original promotional for Circle 7’s “Toy Story 3." 

This was a million-of-dollars attempt to bargain Disney as Pixar’s sole distributor – Michael Eisner style. Of course this led to the infamous split between Pixar and Disney in 2004 when Pixar CEO Steve Jobs and Disney’s Eisner bickered vehemently about how Pixar should be handled creatively and monetarily; only with Eisner’s departure from Disney in 2005 was Pixar able to renegotiate a much, much better contract with Disney: the new Disney CEO, Rob Iger, buried Eisner’s pet projects and all of his notorious footprints, and Pixar’s John Lasseter and Ed Catmull would run all of Disney animation. No more Eisner micromanagement, no more terrible and unnecessary sequels, no more "money money money!!!”-driven projects – it was a breath of fresh air back into Disney and the barrier Pixar finally overcame. 

Of course, one of the first decisions of Lasseter and Catmull was to dismantle Circle 7 and shelve the original “Toy Story 3” script far and away (in a generous gesture, they found work inside Disney for 140 of the 170 Circle 7 employees). Pixar once again had it’s prodigy back, safe and sound and away from the scary Eisner monster that lurks beneath the innocent beds of children’s hopes and dreams. 

The Challenge of Closure

“Toy Story 3” was no walk in the park. It took the minds of Pixar creative seniors John Lasseter (“Toy Story,” “Toy Story 2” and “Cars”), Pete Docter (“Monsters, Inc.” and “Up”), Andrew Stanton (“Finding Nemo” and “Wall•E”) and Lee Unkrich (film editor and co-director of several Pixar films) to come up with the story over a weekend at the same house where they originally conceived “Toy Story.” Stanton wrote the treatment, Michael Arndt (writer of “Little Miss Sunshine”) wrote the screenplay and Unkrich was slated to direct in his directorial debut. And hell, what a movie it was. 

The conclusion of the trilogy is significantly darker with subtexts extending well beyond the comprehension and significance of kid’s minds (Guatanamo bay, pyramid schemes, the manipulation of politics, effects of consumerism) that many older viewers are all too familiar and jaded with. And that’s just the thing: there is a certain jadedness that come with growing up. We become increasingly more self- and consciously aware of our surroundings, which in turn deters us from divulging into childhood fancies unhindered by logic or meaning and driven solely by love and imagination. 

Here, the main conflict is in the toys and Andy reestablishing their relationship and meaning to one another. The opening montage hauntingly ends with the famous musical phrase by Randy Newman, “our friendship will never die…” before fading into present day, presumably ten years later. Andy is 17, about to depart to college, and probably has not played with Woody and the gang for many years at this point. A futile attempt of the toys to be played with one last time before their assumed fate in the attic happens marks this rift:  the toys’ existence as childhood gems no longer resonate with Andy’s current transition in life from adolescence to young adult. It’s a sad opening, heartbreaking even. 

Woody, Buzz and the gang have long been self-aware of their own existence, economics and politics – however, this is brazenly clear and stated in the third installment as opposed to the first two, where the idea was presented but not particularly or deeply explored. After all, if Andy’s toys are, in a sense, sentient and aware of their own being, they must at least know their golden time with their owner must come to end. What happens and how they deal with it is the secondary conflict that drives “Toy Story 3” to greatness. 

When Woody and the gang are accidentally donated to the daycare center Sunnyside, they dive into a world populated with more toys than they could ever fathom beyond Andy’s childhood collection. The politics and economics, however, are iron-fisted by Lotso, and this in turn establishes what is otherwise an action-packed, comedic, dramatic and hilarious adventure for Andy’s toys to overcome and escape from in order to return to the comfort and familiarity of their home, Andy’s room. 

The middle act is nothing spectacularly original – a great many movies rely on this to bridge the opening and ending satisfactorily – but the driving force and ideas about toy economics and politics are very much so. To the unobservant or unempathetic, they may not notice that the middle arc subtly implies an overall thematic of the entire Toy Story lore: of the love between child and toy that transcends time through the sheer strength and significance of previous, everlasting memories. 

The middle act implies the simultaneous and last growth in the relationship between Andy and his toys: this is a pivotal moment of separation, and it is their memories and love that ultimately bind them to each other in the end. Woody is driven to go back to Andy as a testament that he and his friends are still somehow meaningful in Andy’s life – that Andy is now just a iteration of his previous self, but not entirely different, and that somehow the spirit and ghost of Andy’s childhood is very much part of the now older Andy. Reassurance and reestablishment are absolutely necessary at this point, and it’s what drives the toys to act and do in their current situation of anxiety, stress and uncertainty. 

In the end, the primary conflict of reassurance and reestablishment resolves after trials and obstacles of separation and despair presented in the secondary conflict; it helps Andy and his toys realize how in spite of the years of rift, they still and will always hold special places in each others hearts. The memories and emotions – those will always be there. Even when Woody and the gang will no longer be played with by Andy as they once were they now know that he still thinks of them, remembers them, cherishes them just as much as he once did – in mind and heart. And that’s enough for everyone to finally move on, to finally go with their respective life with the assurance and loving memories intact forever more. 

A Generational Difference

The reception and comments from critics demonstrated one of the greatest generational differences I’ve seen in awhile. Several critics have commented that this third installment lacked the heart the first two had and was significantly darker, that on several occasions it was unoriginal in conceit; some remarked that it was perhaps longer than needed; a few even believed that it lacked the emotional brilliance of last year’s “Up." 

What many of these critics fail to realize is that "Toy Story 3” tackles one of the most difficult points in life – the transition from teenage adolescence to young adulthood when one has just graduated from high school and is about to go afar to a college or university. It’s an incredibly difficult time period, filled with anxiety, uncertainty and even a fair amount of grief as parents cope with impending separation and the transitioning individual copes with sorting out tokens from childhood and adolescence and starting afresh as a young, eager-minded adult.

Spanish Buzz is full of win. 

This is not to say tackling and addressing the fate of toys when their owner reach this transition period was not implied previously. “Toy Story” and “Toy Story 2” hinted several times that the toys would ultimately need to deal with this transitional issue, but only now has the issue been fully addressed head on. 

Depicting these pivotal moments is incredibly difficult: it’s so easy to forget distinctions of immediate joy and grief that made up childhood; commonly, we indulge in notions of bliss and innocence, conveniently forgetting or ignoring incidents and characteristics that made them distinctly dramatic, comedic and human. Even more difficult is the distinguishing traits between the end of teenage adolescence and the beginnings of young adulthood – something that “Toy Story 3” daringly confronts unlike any other childhood fable I’ve seen to grace cinema. 

Judging from the feedback I’m receiving, “Toy Story 3” has people in tears. If anything, they like it more than “Up.” – Roger Ebert via @ebertchicago

I concede that the first minutes of “Up” were absolutely brilliant: the marriage montage left me teary-eyed, emotionally moved and shaken by its incredible conceit and execution. However, the rest of the story dives into a Man of La Mancha, Don Quixote-inspired parable style, with quirky sidekick characters derived from caricatures and little else. There was an adventure that led Carl to eventually let go and move on, yes, but compared to the brilliance of the opening there was little I found that remotely compared or came close to evoking the same emotions or empathy; it was cute and funny, but the emotional impact of “Up” belongs solely to its first few minutes. 

“Toy Story 3,” on the other hand, has been in the making for over 15 years. We’ve grown up with the characters, and our fond memories of the first two films still hold strong. Pixar has gone through countless negotiations and renovations with Disney before their current business and distributional status – all in the name of creating greatly emotional and human stories that are timeless and unbounded by the technology of their animation. 

This film’s emotional impact about adolescent transition resonates deeply not only with those going through the same or clearly remembering of such a period, but with the audience that remembers the trilogy’s conceit and overarching narrative; finally, we all have closure on the story of Andy and his beloved Woody, Buzz and other toys. It’s about how an emerging young adult deals with tokens from his childhood and remembering and reestablishing what and how much they mean to him – something that I’m sure all of us could sympathize and empathize with. 

Good-Bye, Old Friends

This is a moment that has been built up since 1995 when we first saw Woody and the toys charm and grace the screen with their emotions, drama and comedy. We all knew this time would come, when Andy would grow up and leave for college – but never could we have foreseen how he and the toys would conclude their years of fun, heartbreak and imagination. 

And now that we know they’re all in good hands – that little Bonnie will be their next keeper and that there will be added ears to the tenure before their ultimate conclusion – we at least know that to Andy, his toys will forever be icons of childhood, and that Woody and the gang share these same sentients – of childhood, of reassurance in their significance and meaning to one another, and of the timeless love of a child that is ceaseless and everlasting in ghost and memories. 

Good-bye, old friends. May your next adventure be as memorable as the ones you’ve shared with us.