Toy Story 3

The day I was born, my Grandma gave me a stuffed monkey, which I fittingly named "Monkey." Monkey was my first toy, the first of many. A lot of toys came and went, but Monkey was always there. When I finally outgrew playing with toys, Monkey was one of a small band I deemed worthy to stay in my room as decoration. But at some point, probably when I went to college, Monkey had to be packed away like all the rest. Since then, my parents have moved a few times, and all the boxes of my old stuff have long been shuffled away. Now I don't know where Monkey is, probably stuffed in a box in a shed in Oregon. It's sad that something so important to me at one time could be forgotten so easily, but it happens to everyone as they grow up. Toy Story 3 seems bound and determined to make us all feel truly horrible for having done that to our toys. Indeed, I suspect this film will cause a lot of kids to cling to their toys far longer than they ever should, for fear of betraying the things they loved so much. I'm a grown man and it made me regret not knowing where Monkey is!

Toy Story 3 is a movie that fills me with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, it is a moderate step backwards from their previous string of truly mature features (Ratatouille through Up). On the other hand, it created emotions in me no other film ever has. Toy Story 3 uses the fifteen year history of the franchise to truly pull at your heart strings in ways I don't think any other franchise has ever attempted. By allowing young Andy to grow up, by spacing this film out so far from the last two, it really gives you a sense of the loss these toys are going through as their owner prepares to leave them behind. By film's end, I was in tears. Not sad tears, nor happy tears, but tears of recognition, of understanding. The love Andy has for his toys is palpable, even if it's a bit unrealistic considering his age. And yet, I couldn't shake the thought that the ending didn't feel entirely earned.

See, because this is a sequel, it relies more on familiarity with characters than allowing them to continue to change and grow. The first movie introduced us to these characters, allowed them to develop before our eyes. By the time the third film rolls around, it's just not possible to do that again. So when the film's climax happens, I was affected because of how well developed the characters were in other movies, not in this one. The film basically tacks on the most emotional ending ever to what was otherwise an adventure film. The kind of character development on display, were this an original film, would be unacceptable by Pixar standards. Woody is the only one allowed to grow and mature, while the others are nothing but vehicles for jokes and set pieces up until that ending. Even Buzz, the co-lead character, is pushed to the background, used more as a plot device than as a character.

And yet, the adventure works, the comedy amuses, and the new characters are a delight. I definitely had fun while watching the film. The new characters of Ken and Lotso were certainly entertaining. The staging of the prison escape was thrilling and inventive. And the image of Mr. Potato Head as something other than Mr. Potato Head is comedy genius (as well as raises some strange metaphysical questions about identity). The film tries to balance between these aspects and the emotions inherent in the story, but it errs too much on the side of popcorn entertainment. There's nothing revelatory here, which is really about as slight of a knock as a film can get. Yet I can't shake the feeling that this is as close as Pixar can get to phoning it in.

Whatever my qualms with the structure of the story, I can't deny that the last ten minutes or so are among the best Pixar has ever produced. In a storied history filled with stunning images, none come close to seeing Woody and friends holding hands, waiting for the inevitable. You'll know what I mean when you see it, and it is a breath taker. I've never seen characters come to terms with their uncertain future in such a profound and moving way. If the whole film had been that powerful, it would certainly be the best film in Pixar's repertoire. As it stands, Toy Story 3 has to settle for incredibly uneven: fun and slight, yet powerful and moving just when you need it to be. And when it all comes to an end, you'll be left thinking not just about these characters, but about yourself and your own toys. Those bonds you made however many years ago were important at the time, and Toy Story 3 asks you to remember and embrace them while also moving on.

Winter's Bone

I guess it shouldn't be surprising that in perhaps the most boring summer movie season ever, the best film of the summer is not a blockbuster, but a small independent film. In many ways, the twists and turns of a film like Winter's Bone far surpass any excitement to be found in the paint-by-numbers blockbuster mentality of Iron Man 2. It might be blasphemous to suggest that you should skip seeing The Karate Kid or The A-Team this week in favor of a movie with no explosions, no quippy dialog, and no kung fu atop the Great Wall, but that's what I'm going to do. There's no denying that Winter's Bone isn't for everybody, but those who will appreciate it will get infinitely more from Winter's Bone than anyone could ever get from any other blockbuster released so far this year.

From the opening shots, you get a good sense of the kind of film you're in for. Lingering shots of the Ozarks, set to the haunting vocals of folk singer Marideth Sisco help to give us a sense of both mood and place. From this opening, the film wastes no time setting up the stakes: Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) is a 17 year old taking care of two younger siblings and a mother who is a shell of her former self. When the sheriff comes by and informs her that her father skipped town while on bond, she has a week to find him or lose her home. It's a simple enough premise, and the premise itself is simply a way to explore the world and characters, as well as explore the darker side of family bonds. By about halfway through the film, I was caring less and less about the resolution to the plot, and more and more about the details of the world of the film.

Indeed, this is a film so filled with intimate details about the world the characters live in, it may take a few viewings to take them all in. The cinematography is starkly beautiful, soaking in all the nuances of the Ozarks and its people. One of my favorite moments has nothing to do with anything, and yet it will stick with me all year: aforementioned Marideth Sisco and a group of compatriots simply sit around in a circle singing folk songs in a rundown little house while Ree wanders in looking for her father. Any other film would have made this scene about what Ree might learn about her dad, but Winter's Bone makes it as much about the people populating Ree's life as it does the plot details.

The film works for any number of reasons, but reason number one is Jennifer Lawrence. Tasked with the job of carrying the entire film, she soars. So much of the performance is internal; as we watch the events of the film take their toll on the heroine, we can see how it is wearing her down mentally. Ree never comes across as outwardly desperate, but we can see in here eyes just how little hope she has of finding her father in time. Facing one obstacle after another - many of which take the form of menacing estranged family members - Ree is so determined yet sorrowful. It's not the kind of performance that has an easy Oscar clip, instead keeping a consistent and engrossing tenor throughout. If there is one standout moment, it would surely be when Ree goes to see a military recruiter. So much is going on in that scene: a desire to simply escape the life she's been forced into, the need to take care of her family financially, and the way it reveals how young and naive she still really is. The last few years have seen a plethora of great young actresses emerging - Gabourey Sidibe, Ellen Page, Carey Mulligan, Saoirse Ronan to name but a few- and Lawrence is as good as any of them. Let's hope this is the start of a long career.

The other half of the acting equation is John Hawkes. Hawkes has turned in stellar work in supporting roles for years, but here he has truly great material to work with. We initially think he is nothing but another obstacle for Ree. His character of Teardrop is the brother of Ree's father, and his connection to his brother slowly consumes him. Like Ree, he can't let his brother simply disappear, becoming desperate to know where the man went. Where Lawrence is internal, Hawkes gets to be a bit more showy. Anger and rage permeates the character, but beneath it all is a deep sadness. We get the sense that Ree never knew her father as anything other than a failure, but Teardrop knew him as a brother, and as such he feels protective of him. Hawkes makes you feel as though Teardrop's very soul is on the line, that he needs to find his brother more than even Ree does. It's powerful and understated work.

Director Debra Granik has constructed a well done thriller, tapping into ideas of family bonds, revenge, and the fulfillment of one's potential. There are moments here that will rank among the year's most memorable. The film's chainsaw wielding climax is the kind of sequence that sticks with you long after the film is finished. Winter's Bone is not an action movie, and it's not a high octane thrill ride. What it is, though, is a strong character piece that knows how to scare you, shock you, surprise you, and entertain you.

Splice

There was a time, long ago, when horror movies were more than just jump scares and loud noises. More than a lot of other genres, horror has allowed filmmakers to address social issues in unique and exciting ways. By taking current political issues and combining them with monsters and thrills, a director could smuggle his message out to audiences without them explicitly knowing it. Everything from race relations (Night of the Living Dead), to religion (The Exorcist), to Communism (Invasion of the Body Snatchers), anything was fair game for the horror genre. Sadly, that seems to have faded since the 90's. Now we are inundated with torture porn and hollow remakes that miss the point of the originals. But once every so often a film will sneak through in the same vain as classic horror cinema. Such is the case with Splice, a film with a lot on its mind, even if it's never quite sure what to do with all that creativity.

Taking a page straight from Cronenberg, Splice is pure body horror. What would happen if someone combined the genes of a human with those of other animals? Such is the question two award winning scientists ask (Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley), resulting in the creation of Dren. Dren is human-like in appearance, but animalistic in nature. Instead of aborting the creature when they realize how dangerous it is, they adopt it as a surrogate child, trying to help it tap into its human side. Much of the fun to be had comes from the tension between Dren's opposing sides. Dren seems to have human emotions, but also has a very violent side, and you're never sure which side will win out in a given scenario. Armed with a poisonous stinger in its tail, Dren can wreak bloody havoc when it wants to.

Brody and Polley play the parts of surrogate parents perfectly, with Polley especially standing out. Polley is so protective of Dren, she seems willing to sacrifice everything she has for Dren. There is an obsessive, almost deranged quality to the character, and you can see why she would latch on to Dren so strongly. The movie has a lot of fun playing with the idea of these three characters being a deformed family of sorts. All the problems they have with Dren are like perverted inversions of the kinds of things a normal family would deal with when raising a child. The film can often be as funny and silly as it can be scary. Indeed, it's often much more of a dark comedy than a horror film at times. This is a wise choice, as playing this deadly serious would not work at all. The tone can still have some issues, but it mostly works, often because the actors understand what kind of movie they are in.

Because the film doesn't simply go for cheap thrills, but actually allows its audience to think and consider what is happening, Splice works. Stem cell research is still a complicated and divisive topic, and Splice has some interesting things to say on both sides of the argument. On the one hand, using human genes to create Dren results in some serious medical breakthroughs. On the other hand, it causes far more damage than it may be worth to those who create Dren. If the film does have a problem, it is the ending. For the majority of the run time, the film is content to be a character piece with grotesque visual moments and dark humor. But the end suddenly changes tone completely, turning into something other than what the film was before. The end feels cheap and unearned, and more than that, unnecessary. We spend so much time getting to know and understand Dren, that when something changes in Dren, it undermines what time we spent with the creature. It feels like the filmmakers couldn't figure out how to end the film they'd started, so they switched gears and took the easy way out. Too bad, as an ending in a similar tone with the rest of the film would have been much more satisfying.

Why is it so hard for horror films to be about something more than just violence? Splice is able to have some great bodily horrors in addition to interesting characters and thematic arcs worth thinking about. While it won't likely appeal to those looking for simple thrills, it is definitely more engaging than any other horror film released so far this year. And at its center is Dren, certainly one of the more complex movie "monsters" of recent memory.