Film Review - Toy Story 3

*****
Perfect. I'm tempted to finish the review there. It might be possible to find fault with this film but its unmatched humour, poignancy, intelligence and charm render any attempt to do so entirely ungracious.

Pixar have found a way of pouring more humanity into their animation than the vast majority of filmakers achieve with even the greatest of 'live' actors.

Whereas previous installments focused on the symbolism of toys as the joy of our youth, this 3rd episode reflects the sometimes harsh reality of our transistion from child to adult. Woody, Buzz and the rest of the toys, having not been played with for years but lying dormant in a toy trunk, fear being sent to the rubbish tip as owner Andy, now 17, prepares to leave home for college.

What follows is the toys attempt at making a new life for themselves, hopefully in the attic, loyally awaiting the prospect of Andy's children of the future, or, alternatively, at the seemingly utopian 'Sunnyside' daycare centre.

As the tale unfolds we are presented with elements of horror, in particular the truly freaky child doll, and humour, the best example of which being Mr Potato Head's scene stealing turn as a tortilla (just go see the movie)!

The best of the 'new' characters though, is undoubtedly 'Ken'. His first encounter with 'Barbie' is handled wonderfully and his insistence that he is "...not a girls toy" only adds humour to his overtly camp portrayal.

It's the films finalé though, that pushes Toy Story 3 into the highest echelons of cinema. Fraught as it is with danger, drama and sadness, the characters, now having been with us some 15 years since Pixar's original 'Toy Story', face up to the end in a manner that can't help leaving you very moved.

The underlying theme, so deftly pulling on heartstrings, is that of the emotive burden of parents adjusting to the knowledge their child is no longer truly 'a child', and as with toys being passed on to a new generation, so too the parent must accept that they will no longer be called upon to be their child's favourite play mate.

Toy Story 3 is the very culmination of cinema.

Ambition Exhibition

Sometimes you read a blog, a newspaper article or, as in this case, an interview, that expresses a point of view matching one you've been harbouring for a while yet had previously doubted the validity of.
This happened to me only yesterday.

For a long time I've felt there are certain bands, championed by the music press, and even some friends of mine, who simply don't deserve the accolades or attention they receive. I won't name them specifically but they tend to be pedalling a new wave 'sound and vision' that apes those of the late 70's post punk era.

I've wondered whether it was just me, whether I was missing something, just being obstinate in my snobbery, but no, there, in a new interview with Nicky Wire, bassist and lyricist with Manic Street Preachers, was a sentiment echoing mine....

The thing with Oasis splitting, you think what is there left? All those people who moan on about the ’90s fucking everything because all the bands became too big, I just keep thinking, what are we left with? An eternity of absolute fucking indie shit that’s not connecting with anyone. There are some truly desperate people out there. They’re lower than tedium. There are bands and they’re aping Ian Curtis but they’re not taking inspiration from the deepness and the true poetry of his lyrics, they’re just doing his fucking kooky dance. They’ve made the whole thing into a cabaret act. For us, Ian Curtis is one of the great writers in any field of the 20th century.

If it's good enough for Nicky, it's good enough for me! In truth, I was relieved when Oasis split, it should have happened a long time ago, but still I can see his point here too. Where is the ambition of those 90's bands now?

For all their flaws their aim of world domination was certainly admirable. And whilst the likes of many of today's young bands pedal the worthy image of artistic integrity, in truth, they're not championing, nor displaying, the very values that made the likes of Curtis great. Indeed, it is just the 'kooky dance'! I feel like we're being hoodwinked. At least the bands of the 90's were honest.

As much as I think the Manics' last album 'Journal For Plague Lovers' (no singles but critical acclaim) is a masterpiece, there's still a little part of me that wants to see the bands I love reach number 1. That the mission statement for their forthcoming LP is as follows fills me with a sense of delight.

One last shot at mass communication

Why England Lose

Now the South African dust has settled on the sun baked dirt pitches found in the shadow of Soccer City and the din of the vuvuzela ebbs away, it feels like it might just be possible to cut through the crap, conjecture and downright silliness to once and for all paint a realistic picture of England's World Cup performance.

So how did we get on then? Well, yes, not great obviously. Given the class and status of the players that England can boast in their squad, they certainly would have hoped they could compete with the best teams in the world. Unfortunately, of course, they couldn't.

Despite doing well in their opening game, England struggled against relatively weaker opposition and inevitably fell by the way side when meeting a super German team.

A disappointment then, but should we have been surprised? Our FIFA ranking before the tournament was 8th, which would suggest a probable quarter final exit, though meeting Germany at an unusually early stage, i.e. the last 16, ultimately meant England still kept to what FIFA would suggest was their likely form.

There is an unfortunate belief in England that it is our God given right to succeed. That we really ought to be the best in the world at the game we invented. We hold puerile grudges. We still can't get over the Germans ('Two World Wars and one World Cup'). They got over us a long time ago, they really don't care.

In fact, I'd go further to suggest this stubborn mentality actually damages England's potential for success on the world stage, our literal geographic distancing, let alone our cultural divide, from the rest of the continent makes it more difficult for England to understand what's required from international tournament football.

The strength of the Premier League is ironically somewhat to blame. Our English players, remain in England, reluctant to play abroad and are therefore limited in their footballing education compared to other nations top stars.

It could be argued that Spain succeed with the majority of their stars based domestically at just two clubs but the key to that was an undying commitment to their own style of football above all else.

England historically play with tempo and power, getting to the bylines, crossing to tall centre forwards with a direct style of play (not to be confused with a long ball style). In defence, we are organised and willing to put everything on the line. It's not pretty and therefore often it is doubted in terms of its validity - fatal.

If we aren't prepared to win by being 100% committed to our own style (for better, for worse), instead wanting to compete on a technical level with the best nations, we have to be willing to go and seek the schooling, a footballing 'Grand Tour'.

Here are some of the best articles I've read about England in recent weeks. I don't agree with all that is said but it's better than buying into the notion that our 'failure' is down to overpaid stars, a foreign manager or a lack of goal line technology.

Why England Lose
Capello's Critics and Hindsight Bias'
Flawless Spain are a Footballing Pain - I Blame the English Parents
England's Identity Crisis
England's Fear of Crossing Borders

Despite the heavy dose of realism here, it still won't stop me hoping, that someone, somewhere might be able to change things for the better. 66, 90, 96 are all years in which we were proud of the England team, only once were we actually winners of the tournament.

Riding along in my automobile....

I have always had a considerable passion for the motor car.

Not in a mechanical way, or, at least, not in the sense of wanting to be a mechanic - getting under the bonnet, understanding the workings, boasting about engine capacity and priding myself on a 'go-faster' stripe - but in an aesthetic and, well, a sort of sensual way.

There's something deeply romantic about the motor car. Think of the number of songs devoted to a set of wheels, the role they've played in your favourite movies over the years, as Morrissey sings in 'This Charming Man', "Why ponder life's complexities, when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat."

Anyone who's read J.G. Ballard's 'Crash' might confess to at least an understanding of the sexuality, the main protagonist's fantasy of dying in a high speed collision involving glamorous filmstar Elizabeth Taylor.

The smell of the leather, the reflection of the chrome, the joy of a walnut dash are all palpable when sitting in the driver's seat of an expensive sports car, resplendent in its own decadence; and that's all before the key is inserted into the ignition.

I do love to drive. Whether it be go-karting with friends or simply flooring the accelerator in my modest Fiesta.

The thrill of surging forwards, engine roaring beneath you as you watch the gauge of the rev counter flick up, drop at a gear change, then surge skywards again, is hard to resist.

Am I compensating for my repressed libido or simply just the size of my manhood? From the photos I took recently at the Goodwood Festival of Speed, it seems evident there's something going on.

***

The Festival is always held a week before the British Grand Prix in an attempt to lasso as many F1 drivers as possible into attending, but it was former champion Nigel Mansell's 1987 'Red 5' Williams that caught my eye.

I'm just about able to remember the car's finest moment when, driven to victory by Mansell in that year's Silverstone Grand Prix, he performed one of the most exciting and audacious overtaking manoeuvres in the history of the sport.

Dummying outside and then diving inside leader Piquet with just two laps to go, it was all the more impressive when you consider he had been a full 20 seconds behind him after his last pit stop.

At the end of the race the crowd invaded the circuit, bringing Mansell's car to a stop as they mobbed him with Union flags and gestures of celebration. Mounting the back of a steward's motorcycle to return to the pits, he stopped the driver deliberately at the spot where, just moments earlier, he had performed the feat. Jumping off the back of the bike and kneeling to the ground, he kissed the tarmac in thanks.

Top 5 favourite England moments - 1) Psycho's screaming

What would you say is the one quality the English like to associate themselves with above any other? A stiff upper lip? Stoicism? A reserved nature? A good sense of humour?

At least in footballing terms, they like to think of themselves as the hardworking, long suffering fighters, battling their way to achievement through sheer grit and determination, occasionally excelling but often making up for their deficiencies by showing great courage against the odds. That's how I see it anyway.

Stuart Pearce in Euro '96 was probably the personification of this ideal. By no means the most technically gifted of players, he was infinitely adored for his displays of passion, his no nonsense approach and his hard tackling.

Of course he was also a man carrying a great burden. His penalty shoot-out miss, along with that of Chris Waddle in the World Cup semi-final in 1990, cost England a place in their first final since '66 and probably, considering the unsettled nature of potential final opponents Argentina at the time, the nation's best shot at regaining the trophy to date.

Come a Euro '96 quarter-final shootout with Spain six years later, it showed monumental courage to step up to the spot and put himself in that same vulnerable position a second time.

Aware of the significance, we held our breath as Barry Davies, commentating for the BBC, caught the mood perfectly - "....his chance to banish the memory of Turin."

As Pearce's left foot strike eluded the outstretched arm of Spain's diving keeper, the pain of those 6 years and the redemption now found, welled up to produce a moment of raw emotion.

Not only was it significant in terms of his own penance, but seemed, in one gesture, to symbolise the entire nation's 30 years of hurt. The imagined long suffering nature we like to portray was being played out in front of us, thousands, including myself, mimicking Pearce in defiant response.

The full highlights are below but the moment in question can be seen at 4min 20s. Enjoy!

Top 5 favourite England moments - 2) Gazza's goal versus Scotland

A second appearance in this countdown for one Paul Gascoigne and certainly, for my money, the defining moment of his England career. At 1-0 up, England had just conceded a penalty which was duly saved by goalkeeper David Seaman.

Within a minute or so, the ball was being looped forward into the path of the onrushing England midfielder who, displaying wonderful creativity, chose instantly to flick the ball, left footed, over the distraught figure of Colin Hendry.

As the ball dropped perfectly to Gazza's right foot, I remember feeling the rise of adrenalin, let alone the literal rise of my body, as we left our seats knowing the ball was falling perfectly for the volley.

That Gazza executed it with such aplomb was no mean feat, despite the collective expectation, and gloriously the ball nestled in the left hand corner of the Scottish net.

Memorably, the celebration recreated the controversial 'dentist chair' drinking incident, an embarassment when it became the focus of scandalous revelations about the squad's Asian tour exploits on the eve of the tournament.

However, if Gazza was lumbered with the ringleader tag in that controversy, he was now taking on the same mantle with regard to England's further success at the tournament.

See it in all its glory at 1 minute 30 seconds.

Top 5 favourite England moments - 3) England's 3rd versus Holland

In the final group game of Euro '96 England finally came good. To date it's one of the handful of performances I can remember where I truly felt that we were world beaters.

The passing, movement and total control England displayed that night was the true blossoming of the euphoria surrounding the tournament, on home soil and with the spectre of '66 looming large from 30 years past.

The crowning moment of the match, the 3rd goal, was scored by Shearer but involved Gascogine and Sheringham, the latter contributing the most audacious of schoolboy dummies to setup the goal scorer when everyone was expecting him to shoot.

It was symbolic of the confidence and swagger England exuded on the night. Seldom seen since.

Alan Shearer Goal Against Holland Euro 96

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