Feeling lost? Get caught up with Parts One, Two, and Three.
Now where were we? Oh, right. Woody has just decided to stay with the Roundup Gang and go to the toy museum because he realizes that Andy will eventually grow up and no longer want him. Andy’s other toys are still searching for Woody, unaware of either his decision or the fact that they have the wrong Buzz in their midst. Deluded Buzz still doesn’t know that he’s a toy. And Al is completely unaware of any of this. All he knows is that his valuable Sheriff Woody doll has been fixed and he’s about to close a deal that will make him fabulously wealthy.
Andy’s toys and Deluded Buzz have arrived at Al’s office, thanks to Tour Guide Barbie, I guess? I have very few complaints about this movie, but Tour Guide Barbie’s role strikes me as a little unclear. Anyway, the toys observe Al finalizing his deal with Mr. Konishi, the owner of the Japanese toy museum. This both further motivates the toys to sneak into Al’s bag so that he can lead them to Woody and gives us a ticking clock. Al is flying to Japan with his entire “Woody’s Roundup” collection tonight. If Andy’s toys want to rescue Woody or convince him not to go to Japan or at least say goodbye before he does, they need to find him fast.
Buzz – Andy’s Buzz – has escaped from his packaging prison and is now trying to catch up to Al and the toys. He has a good action scene, swinging between pegs and bouncing off a trampoline in his pursuit of Al. But before he can catch up to Al, the automatic doors close and Buzz crashes into them. As Al gets in his car and drives away, Buzz is left jumping on the matt in a futile attempt to make the doors open again. All is not lost though, as Buzz sees that Al’s apartment is just across the street and realizes that he can knock over a nearby pile of toys, which will provide enough weight to open the door. So why bother having Buzz fail to get out the door and then succeed seconds later. There are a couple of reasons. First, it separates Buzz from the other toys so that they can have more time with Deluded Buzz before they realize that he’s not “their” Buzz. Second, it brings back memories of the video game Buzz and his failure at the brink of triumph, which means the audience will already have that scene in mind when it becomes important in just a minute. Third, it takes Buzz down a peg. Despite his physical prowess, Buzz is not really the action hero of this movie. We won’t see who that hero is until near the end, but for now, it’s enough to just deflate Buzz a little. And finally, knocking over the pile of toys awakens a character whose arrival was teased at the beginning of the movie.
Yes, it’s Zurg, archenemy of Buzz Lightyear, as his box says. The filmmakers could have counted on us just reading the box and maybe remembering the mention of Zurg in the first film and not bothered with the video game sequence. But we’re nearly an hour into the movie, which is awfully late to be introducing a totally new character. Because we saw Zurg in the video game, we know who he is and what to expect of him as soon as he shows up. What we expect from him is trouble. While Buzz is running across the parking lot headed for Al’s apartment, Zurg immediately gives chase, roboticly repeating the phrase “Destroy Buzz Lightyear.” Buzz doesn’t notice Zurg yet and he won’t become a real factor in the plot until later. What we get from this scene is a hint that when he does encounter our heroes, he’s going to make their lives a whole lot more difficult.
Deluded Buzz is not the same character from the first Toy Story. While there are definite similarities, Andy’s Buzz was always portrayed as more of a space cop, someone who could talk about ridiculous concepts in a very matter-of-fact way. He may have been a toy unclear on the concept, but he was surprisingly down to earth for a space ranger. Deluded Buzz is less so. He is closer to the super hero type character that Buzz was in the early versions of Toy Story, back when he was called first “Lunar Larry” and then “Tempus from Morph.” (I’m not sure where that second one came from either.) He talks about progressing “through the bowels of Zurg’s fortress.” He climbs up the elevator shaft rather than just taking the elevator because “They’ll be expecting that.” He uses both arms to point. In fact, most of his poses are completely over the top dramatic. The differences between him and Andy’s Buzz are clear to us, but sail right past Andy’s other toys. He’s deluded, but never so crazy that the toys have any reason to suspect that they somehow picked up the wrong Buzz. They expect him to lead them to Woody and he is doing just that, though he believes he is rescuing a prisoner from Zurg’s evil clutches. They either don’t notice his babbling about Zurg or pass it off as what Hamm says it must be: a weird side effect of seeing the Buzz aisle at Al’s Toy Barn.
I love the short visual explanation of how Buzz gets across the street. All we see is Buzz running up to Al’s building wearing a traffic cone. A perfect explanation delivered with minimal fuss. The traffic cone trick worked once, so neither we nor Buzz have any reason to believe it wouldn’t work again. So we aren’t left wondering how Buzz got back across the road and the movie doesn’t have to waste time it doesn’t have to explain it. With the other toys making their way to Al’s apartment and Al preparing for his flight to Japan, there is not a second to spare.
The most obvious purpose of this next scene is to get Jessie to tickle Woody so that Andy’s toys will think Woody is being “tortured,” further motivating their lighting fast, commando style rescue attempt. But it also gives us a lot of insight into Woody’s current state of mind. We know that Woody is happy about his upcoming trip; he said as much in a previous scene. What we see here is just how caught up Woody is in the idea of being Sheriff Woody, hero of “Woody’s Roundup.” Play is the entire reason that toys exist and that’s what Woody is doing here. But he’s taken the child out of the equation. He is now playing out the kind of stories he saw his television counterpart starring in with his new friends. Maybe this is the life Woody expects to have from now on, one where he can play at being heroic Sheriff Woody forever. He might think that there will be kids involved. The Prospector spoke of generations of children who would come to see him and love him. But these kids will be different. These kids will know Woody’s history and appreciate him as a valuable toy and the star of his own TV show. These kids will never get the chance to grow tired of Woody and abandon him. When they grow up, a new generation will take their place. Woody will never be unloved and forgotten, never damaged, never abandoned.
Though he isn’t as confused as Buzz in the first movie or as deluded as Deluded Buzz in this one, Woody has become similarly caught up in his fictional backstory. Just as Buzz once believed that being a real space ranger was what made him special, Woody now believes that being a rare and valuable toy of the once beloved character Sheriff Woody is what makes him special, what will save him from being thrown away. He hasn’t literally forgotten what he is, but he has become totally immersed in these fictional adventures that he himself has never experienced. In the process, he has started to lose sight of the reality of who he is and what matters in his life.
A minor note: Jessie calls Slinky “springy dog,” the same name Buzz called him by in the first Toy Story. It may not be intentional, but it does lay a tiny bit of groundwork for Buzz’s later reaction to Jessie.
I am generally not a big fan of misunderstanding as a plot device: characters showing up at the exact wrong moment (or the exact right moment from a story perspective) to see or hear something and plausibly misinterpret it. But this one I’m okay with. It doesn’t really dictate what the characters do so much as how they do it. The toys were already going to rescue Woody. Their misinterpretation of what was happening to Woody just made their rescue more of a fast paced military operation than “Hi Woody! We’re here to rescue you! Say, who are your new friends?” And both misunderstanding and consequences are brief. Once Andy’s Buzz shows up and sorts out that misunderstanding, Woody has the opportunity to explain that he isn’t in any real danger aside from the danger of being sent to Japan, which he no longer sees as a problem.
Buzz’s quick an efficient way of unmasking deluded Buzz is a lot of fun. It recalls the first movie with deluded Buzz striking the exact same poses that Andy’s Buzz did when his helmet was first opened. It also reminds us of how far Andy’s Buzz has come since then. He understands what he is now, which will be crucial when he talks to Woody and realizes that Woody has lost sight of what he is. But he still remembers enough of his space ranger protocol to know how to calm deluded Buzz and convince him that they’re all on the same side, evidently by telling him that Woody is intergalactic royalty. Buzz calmly lifting his foot and revealing the “Andy” written on it also provides a nice reminder of the “Andy” on Woody’s boot, the one that isn’t there anymore because Geri painted over it. It’s unlikely that we’ve forgotten about it, but a small reminder can’t hurt.
Now the other toys know the truth. Woody is not only aware that Al is about to take him to Japan, he actually wants to go. This revelation first baffles then saddens Andy’s other toys, especially Buzz. Previously, Buzz has talked about how Woody saved his life and never gave up on getting both toys back to Andy. That is part of why Buzz admires Woody so much. But another big part of Buzz’s respect for Woody comes from the life lesson that Woody taught Buzz. Not that Buzz is a toy; Buzz didn’t figure that out until he saw the Buzz Lightyear commercial. Woody taught Buzz that he could have a happy and fulfilling life as a toy, even more so than he could have as a space ranger. What could be more disheartening to Buzz than to search for Woody, the toy who taught him that being a toy when you’re owned by a kid who loves you, only to find that Woody is turning his back on that life and that ideal?
Trying to explain his newly discovered status as a valuable toy and former TV star, Woody turn on the television, points to the screen and says “See? That’s me!” That is one of the unique aspects of toy existence. Woody is nearly identical to his onscreen counterpart, particularly so since the character he is based on happens to be a puppet. But that isn’t really him on screen. It’s a marionette, and Woody is one of the toys based on that character. He is Andy’s Sheriff Woody doll. He has no more claim to being a wild west cowboy than Buzz does to being a space ranger. Like Buzz encountering another Buzz Lightyear, this is a phenomenon that is particular to toys, with no real counterpart in the human world. Even actors cannot claim to have had quite this experience. An actor can at least say “I was on that set, I read those lines, and I played that part.” It would be completely correct for an actor to point to the screen and say “That’s me.” But Woody has never even been on a cheesy cardboard set built to look like a western town. This is not his life.
When Buzz tells him to cut it out and come home, Woody first tries to explain that the Roundup Gang needs him. He’s not lying either. He genuinely cares about his new friends and the fact that they will be locked away in storage if Woody leaves is part of his motivation for staying with them. But when Buzz turns the very words Woody once said to him back on Woody (albeit in a different order), Woody other motivation comes out: self preservation. Woody’s fear that his time with Andy is nearly up and that he will end up suffering the same loss that Jessie did and possibly even being thrown away has driven him to see the museum as his last refuge.
So Buzz and the other toys leave, without Woody. Rex points out that Andy is coming home tonight. Proving once again that he has learned well what Woody once believed – that toys should be there for kids when they need them – Buzz answers that they had better make sure they get home before Andy does so that they can help to soften the blow of Woody’s sudden disappearance. Woody may not be convinced of the error of his ways yet, but it’s getting harder and harder for him to deny the pain he’s going to cause his friends and Andy by leaving them. Slinky drives the point home by taking one last, sad look at Woody.
Woody protests to Buzz that he doesn’t have a choice and Buzz responds with his most effective argument. The Prospector may not have ever lied about what the museum would be like for Woody, but he never exactly told the whole truth either. That’s what Buzz is laying out now. The museum may be a chance for Woody to live forever, but it will be a life cut off from most of the world. Generation may children may come to see him and love him, but only from afar, from the other side of the glass. No child will ever be able to touch Woody, to hold him, to play with him ever again. They may look at him with wonder and even longing, but at the end of the day, they will leave and go home to play with and love their own toys. Woody may live forever, but immortality comes at a high price. He cannot avoid the pain of living life without also losing the joy. Never being tossed aside by Andy also means never being truly loved ever again.
The great thing is that Buzz doesn’t explain this idea in a lengthy diatribe. He gets it all across in three terse sentences, exactly the way he would talk to Woody to show how angry and disappointed he is in his friend.
The truth of what Buzz said before leaving the room is clearly weighing on Woody, but he hasn’t completely changed his mind yet. What does push him into making the right decision? Oddly enough, the very reason Woody has the option of choosing to be a collectable instead of a toy: the “Woody’s Roundup” TV show. While Woody stands alone in front of the ventilation grate through which his friends has just departed, the TV Woody is reminding all of the kids out there in the audience that friends and family are true treasures. As toy Woody turns around, his head hung low, TV Woody reinforces his point with music, singing the opening song from the first Toy Story, “You’ve Got A Friend In Me.” It stirs memories in both Woody and the audience of Woody’s bonds with Andy, Buzz, and all of the other toys. But equally significant is what’s happening onscreen. An adult hand pushes a young boy wearing a “Woody’s Roundup” t-shirt – a lucky member of the studio audience – over to the singing marionette. The boy looks at Woody for a moment, then picks him up and hugs him. The spell of the TV show is broken. The puppetry was cheesy enough to begin with, but now that a kid has arrived and revealed the scale of the puppet world, it’s entirely clear that the whole thing is as much make-believe as the Buzz Lightyear video game. The television Woody is no more real than Woody himself and his adventures have nothing to do with Woody’s real life. What is real is this kid hugging the Woody puppet, which he has to recognize as a puppet. The strings are obvious, the puppet’s guitar is now hanging in midair, and the puppeteer is probably visible to the kid. But the kid doesn’t care. He loves the puppet regardless. Back in the first movie, Woody explained to Buzz that Andy loved Buzz not because Andy thought Buzz was a real space ranger but because Buzz was his toy. Now Woody is relearning this fact. What makes Woody special is not that he is a cowboy hero (which he isn’t) or that he is a rare collector’s item (which he is), but that he is a toy who belongs to the boy whose name is still on his boot underneath the paint.
Buzz learned that he was a toy from a TV commercial. Woody is relearning the true meaning of being a toy from a TV show. Heck, Buzz and the other toys would never have known who kidnapped Woody or how to find him were it not for television. The lesson of the Toy Story films? TV tells you everything you need to know.
Woody’s all but resolved dilemma – do I live life with all of its ups and downs or go to a place where I can never be hurt and miss out on the best that living has to offer? – is still pretty universal. But lines like the ones where he explains his decision to the Prospector – “I can’t stop Andy from growing up. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” – make his viewpoint seem very much like that of a parent. This was the first of several Pixar movies that took the interesting decision to focus on the perspective of parents rather than children.
The Prospector’s frantic “No!” as Woody starts to leave is part of playing fair in the buildup to the reveal that’s about to come. We need to clearly see how desperate he is for Woody to stay so that his villainous nature doesn’t come off as a complete “never saw that coming” shock. But it still isn’t telling us anything we don’t know already. We know that all three of the Roundup Gang toys want Woody to stay so that they can go to the museum, or at least avoid going back into storage. Additionally, the Prospector’s distress reminds us that Woody’s departure still has consequences and it won’t be a truly happy ending if he just goes home.
For as long as we have known him, Woody has been a good guy. He may make some bad – if understandable – decisions, but we can count on him to do the right thing in the end. So it’s not a surprise when he decides to invite the Roundup Gang to come with him. He doesn’t even need a nudge in that direction; just a second to think of the idea. He hasn’t just figured out where he belongs. Woody has remembered the whole purpose of a toy’s life. Now he wants to give that purpose back to his newfound friends.
Jessie is extremely conflicted about this decision. She has to be. If we are to believe that she has really been through the extremely painful experience of being abandoned by the little girl she loved, then Jessie can’t just say “yes” right away. Woody is completely right: Jessie does know on some level that her purpose in life is to make a child happy and that the joy of even one more day with Emily would be worth the pain of having to say goodbye. But as someone who has experienced that pain firsthand, Jessie has a hard time agreeing to a course of action that she knows will ultimately mean going through it all over again, the loss as well as they joy.
Bullseye, on the other hand, has no problem giving an immediate affirmative response. He only wants to be loved: by Woody, by a new kid, by just about everyone.
So Bullseye votes “yes.” Jessie is still undecided. What about the Prospector?
Ummm, should we call that an abstention?
The amazing thing about the Prospector being revealed as a villain is that it doesn’t really require much additional knowledge about him to understand why he is a villain. We already know that he wants to go to the museum and consequently wants Woody to stay so that he can do that. We also already know that he is mint in the box, never been opened. It’s the most obvious thing about him. And it doesn’t take too much thinking to realize what that means, which is what he is explaining right now. The Prospector was never bought by a child. Children open their toys and play with them. If the Prospector had any owners before Al, they were other collectors. The Prospector is the perfect candidate for the role of pegwarmer, as toy collectors call the toys that sit on the pegs week after week, month after month, year after year, never selling. You can see why kids would want to buy Woody or Jessie or Bullseye. But Stinky Pete, the bumbling smelly old man? Only the kids who absolutely had to have every piece of “Woody Roundup” merchandise and had the funds to buy it or the unfortunate kids with relatives who knew they liked “Woody’s Roundup” but could only find the Stinky Pete doll would end up with him.
The Prospector’s story is a potentially tragic one. For all we know, he could have once been as idealistic as Woody is now, wanting nothing more than to make a child happy. But his years of going unsold and unloved wore him down and eventually turned him bitter. Just as Jessie and (to a lesser extent) Bullseye embraced the Prospector’s view that the best place for toys is in a museum, the Prospector at some point embraced Al’s view: that a toy’s value lies not in making children happy, but in the toys rarity and physical condition. No one could ever tell him that he was special because a child loved him, so he came to believe that he was special for the exact opposite reason, because no child had ever played with him or loved him. The Prospector has never left his box in front of Woody, Jessie, and Bullseye before because the box is a source of pride for him, part of where he believes his value lies.
The Prospector calls Woody a “hand-me-down cowboy doll,” further complicating the question of Woody’s history, though the Prospector probably doesn’t know any more about it than we do.
I find it very touching when Woody responds to the Prospector calling Buzz “Buzz Lightweight” – one of the few taunting twists on the character’s name that Woody didn’t use in the first movie – with an indignant “His name is Buzz Lightyear!” There’s a similar scene later on where the Prospector punches Buzz and Woody tackles him yelling “No one does that to my friend!” Even though I already knew by this point in my first that this movie wasn’t going to keep treating Woody and Buzz as rivals, I still love these little confirmations of their friendship, particularly when it’s Woody talking about Buzz. In the first movie, Woody would happily punch Buzz himself. Now he’s rushing to his friend’s defense.
To be concluded….
All images in this article are copyright Disney/Pixar.
Tags: computer animation, disney, pixar
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