You won't be alone if you go to see Toy Story 3 with ginormous expectations. After 15 years, the original Toy Story remains - to me - the most ticklish, delightful, and transporting of all Pixar films; its menagerie of innocently devoted, jabbering bedroom toys has become as beloved a part of the American pop culture family as the Simpsons or the Seven Dwarfs. Walking into this second sequel, I knew what I wanted: to be carried away, yet again, by the antic charm of Woody the noble, common-sense cowboy (voiced by Tom Hanks with his trademark acerbic snap), the irresistibly self-adoring action figure Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), the cranky Mr. Potato Head (Don Rickles), the mouse-that-roared dinosaur Rex (Wallace Shawn), the squeaky-cool alien LGMs, and the rest of the gang. I yearned to be dazzled and touched by the speed and repartee, and by action scenes that have a kiddie Indiana Jones ingenuity. I wasn't disappointed. Yet even with the bar raised high, Toy Story 3 enchanted and moved me so deeply I was flabbergasted that a digitally animated comedy about plastic playthings could have this effect.
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