I've seen this film dozens of times over the years, even though I hate it; it's become an annual Christmas tradition at this point. Why? Certainly the production design is a delight to the eyes, even all these years after the fact, maybe even moreso in a CG-saturated world. Robin Williams' performance has taken on new depth in the wake of his demise; we shall not see his like again. The film contains interesting ideas about war, and war toys, and innocence loss and gained, topics that seem uncomfortably forward-thinking in retrospect (or something). There are some clever set pieces and thought-provoking visual moments, without question.
I detested this film when I first saw it on laser disc around Christmas 1993. I fast-forwarded through the entire end battle scene because I found it so dull. I thought the film was messy, unfocused, icky, indulgent and passionless--cookie-cutter. It was part of a wave of bloated fantasy films from the late 80s and early 90s ("Willow", "Mario Brothers"), some good, some bad. It was marketed as being weird-but-quaint, an appeal to those of us raised with Willy Wonka, with all-star cameos sifted in for good measure. It reeked of commercialism and pre-packaging and I was probably too old for it when I saw it. My younger brother saw it first-run in a theater and could only mutter later, "It isn't what you might think it would be."
It's a poorly made film, without a doubt--the opening and ending scenes seem to have been imported in from another project entirely; the coverage in the opening scenes alone is all over the place, a mish-mosh of angles and under-developed ideas that suggests a Christmas pageant of some kind (the only Christmas reference in the film, entirely superflous as it turns out). Later, while Michael Gambon is touring the toy factory it seems clear second-unit footage of an actual scene of dialog was used (dialog muted), randomly cut in to an already-busy and unconsidered moment. Characters come and go with no purpose, random whims spark and are gone ("This is my noise-making suit" "I really like Yolanda and Steve!"), tonally the film shifts from sentimental childish muck to an out-of-nowhere sex scene to the exploding (murdering) of charming kids' toys. Mr. Gambon is a bad-guy caricature filmed from below so you're forced to look up his nose and deal with his bloated, wide-eyed face at all times. Williams and Cuzack seem to be making up their performances as they go, playing creepy adult children, with the latter really hamming it up in "quirky" mode. Set designs exist for no purpose other than to be "cool" (and they truly are), the music, while wonderful, is shoe-horned in to the film at regular intervals (Tori Amos' "Happy Workers" is particularly cringe-worthy, even though the song itself is neato--it's painfully obvious a choreographer was hired and then had to be put to use somehow). It's difficult to care about the characters and their situations or even know what's going on half the time, and the whole bloody thing just goes on and on, until it finally comes to a sputtering stop, ending with a dreamlike, if inexplicable, credit sequence with a flying elephant statue that blows bubbles.
As I said, I really couldn't stand this movie initially, but I kept thinking about it over the years. At some point (probably when I chanced to watched the film on pain meds some time ago now) I began to get into the movie somehow. My co-workers at the time, who had all been kids when the movie was on cable, loved it, they said. Looking at it now, the film reminds me of another time--the score (including Thomas Dolby? In 1992?) and many of the pop culture nods (like a groan-worthy MTV product-placement moment halfway through) were already old and tired when it came out but represent a specific time of historical arrogance in the US, a time long gone.
After having seen the movie at least once, one doesn't expect any more than what it has to offer in terms of narrative, freeing the viewer from the need for a story and allowing one to peek into another world, a pre-9/11 place where the hubris of Hollywood was at an all-time high. It's like Spielberg's "1941" or "Hook," it's fun to watch people tossing money about and indulging in their artistic whims, even at the cost of the audience's patience (and lack of financial support). I get a little wistful nowadays, thinking of the old concept of the "tentpole" movie and how audiences used to flock to a film just because someone like Williams was in it. "Toys" is a good example of the kind of films that were made once upon a time, for better or worse, and whatever else the movie may be about (I honestly couldn't tell you, after all these years, what it's actually "about") it works as a fairytale on that level alone.
I detested this film when I first saw it on laser disc around Christmas 1993. I fast-forwarded through the entire end battle scene because I found it so dull. I thought the film was messy, unfocused, icky, indulgent and passionless--cookie-cutter. It was part of a wave of bloated fantasy films from the late 80s and early 90s ("Willow", "Mario Brothers"), some good, some bad. It was marketed as being weird-but-quaint, an appeal to those of us raised with Willy Wonka, with all-star cameos sifted in for good measure. It reeked of commercialism and pre-packaging and I was probably too old for it when I saw it. My younger brother saw it first-run in a theater and could only mutter later, "It isn't what you might think it would be."
It's a poorly made film, without a doubt--the opening and ending scenes seem to have been imported in from another project entirely; the coverage in the opening scenes alone is all over the place, a mish-mosh of angles and under-developed ideas that suggests a Christmas pageant of some kind (the only Christmas reference in the film, entirely superflous as it turns out). Later, while Michael Gambon is touring the toy factory it seems clear second-unit footage of an actual scene of dialog was used (dialog muted), randomly cut in to an already-busy and unconsidered moment. Characters come and go with no purpose, random whims spark and are gone ("This is my noise-making suit" "I really like Yolanda and Steve!"), tonally the film shifts from sentimental childish muck to an out-of-nowhere sex scene to the exploding (murdering) of charming kids' toys. Mr. Gambon is a bad-guy caricature filmed from below so you're forced to look up his nose and deal with his bloated, wide-eyed face at all times. Williams and Cuzack seem to be making up their performances as they go, playing creepy adult children, with the latter really hamming it up in "quirky" mode. Set designs exist for no purpose other than to be "cool" (and they truly are), the music, while wonderful, is shoe-horned in to the film at regular intervals (Tori Amos' "Happy Workers" is particularly cringe-worthy, even though the song itself is neato--it's painfully obvious a choreographer was hired and then had to be put to use somehow). It's difficult to care about the characters and their situations or even know what's going on half the time, and the whole bloody thing just goes on and on, until it finally comes to a sputtering stop, ending with a dreamlike, if inexplicable, credit sequence with a flying elephant statue that blows bubbles.
As I said, I really couldn't stand this movie initially, but I kept thinking about it over the years. At some point (probably when I chanced to watched the film on pain meds some time ago now) I began to get into the movie somehow. My co-workers at the time, who had all been kids when the movie was on cable, loved it, they said. Looking at it now, the film reminds me of another time--the score (including Thomas Dolby? In 1992?) and many of the pop culture nods (like a groan-worthy MTV product-placement moment halfway through) were already old and tired when it came out but represent a specific time of historical arrogance in the US, a time long gone.
After having seen the movie at least once, one doesn't expect any more than what it has to offer in terms of narrative, freeing the viewer from the need for a story and allowing one to peek into another world, a pre-9/11 place where the hubris of Hollywood was at an all-time high. It's like Spielberg's "1941" or "Hook," it's fun to watch people tossing money about and indulging in their artistic whims, even at the cost of the audience's patience (and lack of financial support). I get a little wistful nowadays, thinking of the old concept of the "tentpole" movie and how audiences used to flock to a film just because someone like Williams was in it. "Toys" is a good example of the kind of films that were made once upon a time, for better or worse, and whatever else the movie may be about (I honestly couldn't tell you, after all these years, what it's actually "about") it works as a fairytale on that level alone.