Film Review | Toy Story 3 (2010)

Combining both the rule of diminishing returns and the inverse relationship between the length of time you leave between installments in a film franchise and the quality of the newest entry, Toy Story 3 should be awful. Add to that the fact that both Toy Story and Toy Story 2 were beloved modern classics of animation by the time of Toy Story 3's release and it could have become the most derided third film of a trilogy since The Godfather Part III. Surely if any studio could manage to steer clear of this minefield of cinematic failure, it was Pixar? Simply put: yes, it surely was.

Toy Story 3, like Toy Story 2 before it, retains many of the successful elements seen since the series' first installment. All the key voice cast members return sounding as fresh as ever (aside from Jim Varney as Slinky Dog due to his death in 2000, but whose role is ably and respectfully filled by Blake Clark). A wealth of new talent join them, each as perfectly fit to their animated counterparts as the franchise veterans. Ned Beatty as Lots-O'-Huggin' Bear deftly creates the series' most finely crafted and performed antagonist, with Michael Keaton providing strong and often laugh-out-loud support as Ken. Additional supporting roles are filled by seasoned performers including Whoopi Goldberg, Bonnie Hunt and Timothy Dalton (as one of the series' most brilliant minor characters, Mr. Pricklepants: a lederhosen-attired plush hedgehog with a propensity for Shakespearean performance), which lends the film an essence of cinematic eminence.

After piloting the first two installments, John Lasseter receives credits as story writer and executive producer here whilst handing over control to Lee Unkrich in his directorial debut. Unkrich proves to be a worthy successor staying true to the style and passion Lasseter infused into his films; Toy Story 3 takes in a great deal of cinematic heritage including classic prison escape thrillers and an opening sequence which trumps both of the previous films' magnificent efforts. Unkrich blends the best elements from the franchise's past whilst keeping his film feeling original and contemporary. Even a handful of sequences clearly designed to take advantage of the film's 3D release in cinemas work just as well with one dimension removed. Pixar's ability to make the design of their characters, initially restricted by 1995 animation technology, still feel as crisp and appealing as ever is easy to overlook but simply cannot be understated.

Whilst Toy Story 3 at its core tells the story of a rescue mission once again, it manages more ably than its predecessor to bring an entirely original slant to proceedings. But perhaps most impressive of all is Unkrich's ability to make Toy Story 3 the most emotional entry of the trilogy. An early scene involving the toys effecting an elaborate ploy to get the attention of the now young adult Andy (John Morris) using his mobile phone is heartbreaking, and the film's final sequence will have you blubbering like a baby, especially if you've been with Woody and co. since the beginning. Elsewhere the film touches on areas that lesser animated films wouldn't dare go near, with existential questions surrounding death and the reasons for being etched within some of the film's most moving sequences.

Toy Story 3 therefore rounds off Pixar's flawless trifecta, one of the greatest film trilogies ever accomplished. All three deserve recognition in history as masterworks of animation and cinema, and their influence will undoubtedly resonate through the years and decades of film far into the future. Or as Buzz Lightyear would say more succinctly: "to infinity and beyond".

10/10

Film Review | Cars (2006)

Despite the lukewarm reception I gave more recent Pixar offering Cars 2, I've actually been looking forward to revisiting the original film for some time. Cars is a film that has in the past pulled me in two different directions: on one hand, it boasts one of the most impressive voice casts of any Pixar film, with cinematic heavyweights rubbing shoulders (or should that be bumpers?) with contemporary Hollywood talents; on the other, it's a film which aesthetically feels the most "kiddie" of all the studio's works, perhaps surprisingly even more so than Toy Story. It's a bipartite structure which frustratingly sat no easier with me on a fresh viewing.

Cars focuses on Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson), a talented rookie racing car determined to win a lucrative sponsorship deal with fuel company Dinoco in order to elevate himself to superstardom. En route to California to compete in the final of the Piston Cup, McQueen becomes stranded in the sleepy town of Radiator Springs where he gets to know a variety of characters, including the simple-minded Mater (Larry The Cable Guy) and gruff Doc Hudson (Paul Newman).

From an artistic perspective, Cars is inferior to the studio's earlier works, never matching the beautiful scenery of Finding Nemo or striking visuals of The Incredibles. The vehicular characters lack a great deal of the warmth and heart of many of Pixar's other creations, giving the Cars universe a layer of artificiality that takes too hefty a portion of the film's near two hour running time to penetrate.

The voice cast is indeed impressive, but is utilised to varying degrees of success. Wilson's vocal chords suit Lightning McQueen just as perfectly as Hanks and Allen fit Woody and Buzz, but his performance is only perfunctory and never memorable. Newman is unsurprisingly the casting highlight as Doc Hudson; it's just a shame that the character's story arc feels both underdeveloped and somewhat clichéd. Elsewhere, Bonnie Hunt's Sally is forgettable, the talents of the likes of George Carlin and Michael Keaton are almost entirely wasted, and Larry The Cable Guy's Mater wins the prize for most irritating Pixar character ever created, grating as he does in every scene.

It's a shame that Cars is such an underwhelming experience, as nestled around two thirds into the film's running time is a segment which reveals a glimpse of the true Pixar spirit of film-making when Radiator Springs' past as a bustling stopover on Route 66 is brought to life through a charming and emotional montage. This is surely the film director John Lasseter initially set out to make: an epitaph to the pure and simple pleasures of smalltown USA, and a love story to the ever-eroding cultural heritage of a country too quick to bulldoze and tarmac over both its history and geography. It's a sequence which gives Cars a much-needed boost, far more effective than the high-octane race sequences (never nearly as exciting as you would expect them to be) that bookend the film. Somewhere along the line, Lasseter allowed the heart of his story to become overcrowded with unsophisticated artifice. Maybe that's Cars' biggest failing. Or maybe talking automobiles inhabiting their own version of our world was never more than just an okay idea in the first place.

6/10

Film Review | Jackie Brown (1997)

Jackie Brown is arguably Tarantino's least celebrated film. It was never going to have an easy time, following on from the overwhelming mainstream and critical success of Pulp Fiction which in turn had generated greater attention in the director's first film, Reservoir Dogs. Tarantino had set himself up to incredibly high - maybe even impossibly high - expectations, so no matter how he attempted to meet them there was inevitably going to be at least some of his audience who would be underwhelmed by his third film.

Jackie Brown tells the story of the title character (Pam Grier), an air hostess who helps weapons dealer and gangster Ordell Robbie (Samuel L. Jackson) smuggle money in and out of the USA. After ATF agent Ray Nicolette (Michael Keaton) catches Jackie in the act, she becomes further embroiled in Ordell's business and a sting operation for Nicolette to arrest the gangster, whilst at the same time striking up a relationship with bail bondsman Max Cherry (Robert Forster).

In all honesty, I cannot understand the negative criticism levelled at Jackie Brown. It's almost certainly Tarantino's most "un-Tarantino-esque" film, not containing as many of the director's hallmarks (at least not as overtly). The narrative is by and large linear, and the dialogue is less flagrantly audacious than that heard throughout Tarantino's earlier works. It may be the absence of these features that lead fans of the director to be overly critical of the film; you don't have to scratch the surface too deep to see that Tarantino has created cinematic gold once again.

That Jackie Brown isn't as endlessly quotable as either of the writer and director's previous films doesn't mean that this isn't another stellar script from Tarantino. The intricate story builds perfectly throughout the two-and-a-half hour running time towards a gripping finale and a tense and emotional epilogue. The script is imbued with a subtle pizazz that often rings truer than the poetic style heard in Tarantino's previous films. This is potentially the director's most mature and balanced work.

Tarantino again garners a wealth of top-notch performances from his ensemble cast. Once again, it's hard to pick out one actor above the rest. Grier brings confidence and authenticity to the title role, with Forster's turn opposite her imbued brilliantly with introversion and subtlety. The attraction that builds between Jackie and Max is incredibly well-handled; theirs is a genuine and covert affection that only rises to the surface once or twice throughout, and is the most real romantic relationship seen in any of Tarantino's films. Robert De Niro is reliably excellent as Ordell's criminal associate Louis Gara, again bringing an understated feel to the role. In contrast to Forster's Max, De Niro constantly lets you know that there is fire burning beneath Louis' sometimes bumbling character making his performance captivating yet at times superbly uncomfortable.

Jackson is perfect throughout, giving his best performance of any of his films. Jules Winnfield may be Jackson's most iconic and quotable role, but it is through Ordell Robbie that Jackson truly shows his undeniable brilliance as an actor. Watching Ordell calmly and precisely pull on his leather gloves before preparing to do away with whomever he has deemed necessary to dispatch sends chills down your spine, which is testament to both Jackson's acting and Tarantino's direction. Ordell is  simultaneously calculating and cold-hearted, charismatic and despicable, but always feels completely authentic.

Simply put, Jackie Brown is a film of quality and maturity through and through. If Reservoir Dogs is a shot of tequila and Pulp Fiction a strong, carefully mixed cocktail, then Jackie Brown is a smooth sipping whiskey over ice to be enjoyed slowly. It's Tarantino at his most restrained, but also his most refined. An exercise in subtlety and expertly crafted cinema. The film stands incredibly well on its own, but it also rounds off Tarantino's opening trilogy of works superbly; together with his first two films, Jackie Brown eloquently argues for Tarantino to be considered as one of the greatest cinematic writers and directors of all time.

10/10