Toy Story 3

Every Christmas, my wife recounts the story of the Christmas Eve we arrived in Nogales without presents. We fruitlessly hit every Wal-Mart, K-Mart, and Toys-R-Us in Southern Arizona looking for a Buzz Lightyear to replace the one hidden at the top of our closet back home in Amarillo. Three viewings of Toy Story on the 'portable' TV/VCR during the 12 hour drive had reinforced the importance, significance, and magnitude of the gift.

We saw Toy Story with the twins when they were toddlers. Toy Story 2 came along with Kindergarten. And now that they are poised to start their junior year, Toy Story 3 has arrived. Of course we had to take them. Neither was keen to see the movie--having long ago passed the days of Disney rapture. (They now play Pokemon as a sort of a retro nod to their 'lost childhood'--read this voice of experience reflect on the bygone days of his youth.) But The Wife and I insisted. A mistake.

The movie, as with almost all of Pixar's work, is beautiful, thoughtful, moving. It is art. It continues to move Disney animation forward. It sets a bar that other studios (perhaps excluding only Miyazki) can only watch.

But--if you are a father facing an empty nest, if you took your children as toddlers to the previous two films, if you sifted through stacks of toys looking for the last Woody doll--DO NOT SEE THIS MOVIE. Don't do it to yourself.

You do not want to have to explain your teary eyes to two embarrassed teenagers. You do not want your wife looking at you with that kind of pity.

Take them all to Prince of Persia. The film sucks, it goes on and on, and you will never want to play another a video game. But you will not have to run to the bathroom to wipe your eyes and regain your composure.

And yes Zimm--apparently Disney does own me.

Bayard