Trifectas

Things in life seem to come in threes. Like, if one bad thing happens in your life, look out, because numbers two and three are probably on the horizon. And I heard on the radio once that celebrities seem to die in triplicate. Then there's math: peanut butter + jelly + bread = three awesome ingredients. And that one Len Barry song. And how could you get to 12 without first starting with "1, 2, 3?" You couldn't, that's how.

And then there's movie trilogies. You've got your Star Wars, your Indiana Jones (because let's be honest here, the fourth one doesn't count), and your Lord of the Rings. All classic, epic adventures.

But don't forget one more classic adventure trilogy: Toy Story.


Go ahead. Make the alien "oooooh!" noise. You know you want to.

The Toy Story series is one of the best film series of all time. And even though 15 years (half my life!---er, I mean, was I even born when the first movie came out?) lapsed between the first and the third installments, the first doesn't feel dated, and the third still feels fresh.

In the first movie, you fall in love with Woody and Buzz and the whole gang. And you really hope that burn mark will come off of Woody's forehead. And you think it's hilarious that Sid wants to ride the pony. And you add a whole bunch of quotable lines to your repertoire. And after watching it, you secretly set up cameras in your room in hopes of catching your toys, you know, at it.

In the second movie, you marvel at the even crisper animation even as you think how disgusting that cheese dust looks on the villain's fingers. You want a Bullseye of your very own, because he's adorable. You stay to the very, very end and learn why they call him Stinky Pete. And you figure that these toys have had a good run from 1995-1999, and you say goodbye, satisfied.

And then, to everyone's surprise and elation, along comes the third movie, eleven years later. And you laugh---you laugh a lot---at Ken, at Mr. Pita Head, at Spanish Buzz, at "Mr. Pricklepants"...and that jellybean stuck to his head. You are terrified by Big Baby on the swing set. (Seriously! Creepiest. Toy. Ever.) You cry a little watching Andy and Bonnie. And if you're anything like me, you're genuinely worried for the welfare of these characters that you have come to know and love.

If I sound a little...over-the-top seriously nostalgically in love with these movies, it's just because I am. They are wonderful in every possible way. I think the middle one is the weakest of the three, and even it is fantastic. There is simply nothing not to love. See these movies, now. And then watch them again and again and again.

And then please don't ever leave your toys in the sandbox. Seems like a rough place, what with all half-melted soldiers and, uh, Lincoln Logs.