Finally a Sequel worth Seeing!

Well. Tonight certainly did not turn out the way I expected it to. It turned out much much better.

The plan was to drive after work to the house of one of my dear friends from high school. She was going to have a bunch of girls from our old school over to watch Toy Story 1 and 2 before driving to the theater for the midnight showing of Toy Story 3. I was hesitant, to be honest. The thought of spending the hours from 7 to 12 in a group where I'm really only friends with a quarter of those gathered was not the most appealing. Neither was the prospect of then driving even farther away in order to watch a Disney sequel. I rarely like sequels. "Part two" films are usually disappointing. "Part three" films can almost without exception be guaranteed to be time wasters. And I'm just not as into Toy Story as some of the other classics, though this isn't to say I dislike it.

What actually happened was this:
1. No one else was at my friend's house when we arrived. SO my sister, her boyfriend, my friend and I went out for dinner and didn't watch either of the first two movies. This was more expensive than sitting back at the house and pretending to care about beach house drama, but it was also much less stressful.
2. The dears we met up with at the theater were all people I sincerely was missing...they're a no-drama to low-drama crowd, so we had real conversation and caught up on each others' lives.
3. The movie was DELIGHTFUL!

Let me say, Pixar knows what they're doing. The original Toy Story came out in 1995. That means that the kids who were watching it are the kids now either about to go to college, starting college, or finishing their first few years of college. This movie was directed at those kids. The original Toy Story kids will get all of the jokes, all of the references, all of the subtle nods at the first two movies. Not only that, but Andy is around our age still, and we can relate to what Rex says at the beginning: "I can't stand all this uncertainty!" Every character in the film--and every person at that midnight showing--knew exactly what he meant.

The plot was fairly straightforward. Andy is packing up his room for college and has to decide whether his toys come with him, go in the attic, or get donated to Sunnyside Daycare. After a mix-up, all the toys end up at the Daycare center and all except Woody think that Andy abandoned them. Woody sets out to return to Andy's while the others are convinced that Sunnyside is paradise. In time they all realize that the daycare only appears to be paradise but that it is actually a totalitarian state where an evil hugging-bear (who smells like strawberries) preaches that remaining unattached to a child guarantees that no child will ever outgrow a toy and break its heart...This sounds good to the toys until they realize that the bear has decided that they are fodder for the dreaded toddler room children. Woody returns when he learns the truth about Sunnyside, and together they conspire to escape.

The first thing I should say is that I saw the 3-D version. Maybe this is just me, but I feel like 3-D has lost its novelty of late. This is a good thing; it means that animators feel less pressure to show off with the cliche something-pops-out-at-you-because-it-can scenes. Instead, they focus on using the 3-D to make the scenes feel more realistic and draw the audience members into the action. There were points where I forgot we were watching a 3-D movie, and this was refreshing. I'm a huge fan of well-executed understatement, and the animators did a wonderful job with every detail.

When the character of Barbie is first introduced, I wasn't sure whether to smirk or groan. She's over-emotional, shallow, flighty, dependent... Mrs. Potato head is a strong female (?) character and Jesse is pretty great, but I was distressed about how weak a woman Barbie seemed to be. She was everything her stereotype indicates. But then she realizes that her friends are in danger. She rejects her cushy life with her well-groomed man and dream house. She demands that she and her friends receive better treatment, and she takes action to bring this about. She's still Barbie, but it was nice to see her drawn with some backbone.

Mr. Tavani would have enjoyed the set of toys who live at Bonnie's house. While Andy's toys considered being played with their way of supporting Andy, Bonnie's toys inform Woody that "We do a lot of improv here. It's fun!" Bonnie is still young enough that her toys support her by playing along with her. For Andy's toys, these two things are no longer one-and-the-same. They have to choose which is more important: is their purpose to be played with or to be there for their kid? And is there a way to do both when the kid is becoming an adult?

Lots'O, the evil bear at Sunny Side, suggests that the toys should be selfish. He praises Sunny Side for giving toys a place where they can enjoy the pleasure of play without being responsible for a kid. Love requires responsibility, and if the toy doesn't love the kid then the kid can never hurt the toy by abandoning it. With responsibility gone and love gone, the toy can enjoy a life free from the sorrow of good-bye. 'Twas better to have loved and lost? Not for this bear. Of course, the exchange is a painful and shortened life for the toys because they have no one to care for them. Lots'O's world pitch reminds me of some of the Soviet propaganda films...

If I read the plot properly, Pixar also advocates loyalty to friends, giving second chances, understanding that revenge isn't worthwhile, never judging by size, allowing for men with beautiful handwriting, adopting and starting non-traditional families, and saying good-bye gracefully. Hopefully it won't spoil the ending too much if I take a moment to say that the film reminded me of some of my thoughts from this time last year. I had just finished high school and was studying the many ways friendships grow, change, and sometimes end. Frequently, I watched girls (because I went to an all-girls school, not because this is a female tendency necessarily) pick fights so that they wouldn't have to say good-bye. This always saddened me; I think that acknowledging the end of a relationship--any relationship--by allowing the other person's absence to be uncomfortable or even painful while finding peace in the knowledge that you have both grown to the point where moving on is best...this is the right way to end. When it's time, it's time...and pretending to hate the other person or to be apathetic ruins the integrity of the friendship that was.

So maybe that was a bit of a spoiler...but the ending just felt right. Bravo Pixar.

It was strange to be watching the movie with a handful of high school friends as well as my sister and her boyfriend. My sister, who is grounded and mature for her years. Who I can finally call a friend. Some high school friends who lost themselves this year at college and are strangers, some who found themselves and are like new friends, and some who are struggling to find themselves kindof sortof maybe. With these last ones, I pray for patience so that I can be like Woody and understand how to wait and be there for them even when they aren't there for me. Through the years, I've always had at least one friend willing to be that loyal and patient person. I'm grateful and ready to pass it forward.

One more thing: If you go to see the movie, please recycle your 3-D glasses after the show! If you keep them, they'll just end up in the trash next time you clean out your desk. So do your part to save the planet (unlike BP)!

Quietly Lonely in Rainy Suburbia

How to illustrate this moment...

I shut my bedroom door so that the silent house wouldn't feel so cavernous. I made tea to warm my cheeks and hands. I'm reading Peter Barry, Shaun Tan, and Orhan Pamuk for company. I put on a sweater to substitute for a hug. Outside the world is wet and grey. Inside the lamp light presses on my eyes. Mumbling, stumbling, tripping and fumbling. I want to paint something, dye something, clean something, read something... but I have no wood, cloth, mess or...well, I have books, but I'm feeling much more driven to actively create something at the moment. And so here I am writing even as I cringe thinking about how ridiculous blogging really is sometimes. Regardless...

Once upon a time I had a conversation with a teacher about having a need for a sanctuary. I'm one of those people who just needs a space. It doesn't have to be a solitary one, but it needs to be one I can decompress in. As I was exploring winding wooded paths yesterday, this conversation came back to me and I wondered about this concept. The conversation took place back in high school. I'd been really disturbed by something I heard during the day and I luckily had a free period at that point so I set off for the Latin room. While there I perched on a desk and attempted to straighten out my head. A teacher came in and sat with me; we discussed how that particular classroom was situated almost like a tree-house or a fort and how good it is to have a sanctuary. Thinking of a sanctuary as a physical space, the places I tend toward make no sense. They really have nothing in common: the Villa Latin room, an old paintball fort, the kitchen in the basement of the dorm at Millersville, the cornfield at Mary's barn, the entirety of New York city (because, as Fitzgerald says in "Great Gatsby," the places with the most people can provide the most anonymity), Stuyvesant park, the 8th floor of Kimmel, the 7th floor at Bobst, my bedroom at home. A friend once started talking about collecting items for his sanctuary in his home. He had a space with a meditation alter and candles and chimes... It all sounded fine and dandy of course. My bedroom would have to be the most consciously constructed of all my various spaces, but it really hasn't been thoughtfully constructed. It's purple with a few plants, some candles, art supplies, stacks of books, and pillows on the floor in the corner where I like to sit. It's a place where I can bring friends and have tea or space out on my own....but when all is said and done it is a very haphazard space. I found myself feeling a tad bit sorry for my friend. The reason for this, I think, is because the goal of self-reflection and personal maturation is to convert one's sanctuary from a physical place into a state of being. Things don't make a sanctuary. Peace of mind and heart does. Sometimes other people fit into the equation or books fit or colors fit. Other times, all that is necessary is the rhythmic pounding of footsteps along a path in the forest floor and an awareness of each precious breath of light.

Now that you think I'm crazy, I'll get off my soapbox for a bit.

In other news, I'm grateful to the Tavani family for yet another lovely pasta night, wishing Cass all the best on his trip, waiting for Emily (S.R., not my sister Emi) to publish her findings on the neurology of third language acquisition, and debating spending last week's earnings buying every Shaun Tan book available as of right now.

More tea is in order. TTFN. Ta ta for now!