Things Were The Way They Should Be

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Like going for a massage and finding yourself being tugged off before you leave, the end of Toy Story 3 was absolutely perfect. So why the fuck would anybody make a Toy Story 4? The trilogy had concluded with Woody and the toys accepting that their life with Andy was over as they watched him drive off into the distance. Where could you possibly go next? Does Andy come home as a paedophile, grab his old toys back, and use them to lure in the local children? Meanwhile in this scenario, his toys would have to decide whether or not they can reveal their true consciousness to intervene, whilst also coming to terms with the fact that the child they loved has grown up to be a monster? Because that's the only logical way that I can think of Toy Story 4 having anything interesting or new to say. Each of the three films have so far told the exact same story in that they're about one or more toys getting lost and having to find their way home. Meanwhile, there's an extra layer of existential subtext in there in which the franchise spoon feeds you the bullshit lessons of life. The first movie taught us that we're not unique or special, the second that we will be abandoned by the people that we love, and the third that finally, we will die. But if we remember that quote from pretentious wall painter Banksy, “you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time”. This might present itself as being nothing more than a children's film but with Toy Story 4 it seems that it's time for Woody to experience his second fucking death.

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Love Is What Brought You Here

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I live in a predominately white area where I have to remind myself not to stare at a black person if I see one in the street because it's just such an uncommon sight. In fact, the area is so white that if my friends and I were to find ourselves in a horror movie then I'd almost certainly be the first to die simply because I have the most basic hint of a tan about me. However, whenever I've been to the cinema to see a film about any kind of minority then in every single case that minority has been in the audience too. This was the case with Crazy Rich Asians, Black Panther and most recently If Beale Street Could Talk in which there was a single black lady sat in the seat that I'd actually booked for myself. Every time I see this happen I'm reminded of why representation really does matter and how refreshing and needed it must be for those individuals. Still.. I did say that in this case that the lady was sat in the seat that I'd booked for myself. I know it was her fuck up but considering the film we were seeing, I have to admit that I did feel proper shitty having to tell her to go back to wherever her cinema ticket says she belongs.

Having A Gay Old Time

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I think I was about sixteen when my Mum worked out that I was gay. According to her, the thing that gave me away was the fact that I had a huge picture of a man on my bedroom wall and that I'd spent the last week banging on about another one that I liked. As a result I obviously never had to make the decision to come out as gay to her which would have probably been a huge relief if it wasn't for one small thing.. I'm not fucking gay. The poster on my wall was of Raiders Of The Lost Ark featuring Harrison Ford and the man I was banging on about was Bill Murray having just discovered the films of Wes Anderson. I mean even if I was gay I'd like to think that I'd fancy at least one person below the age of fucking sixty. Love, Simon begins with the main character of Simon informing us that he has a “big ass secret”. “Do you have a big ass secret?” I asked my friend who I'm fully aware is sensitive about the fact that he has a big ass. In the case of Simon, his secret is that he's actually gay but being in his final year of school, he is yet to come out to anybody. My friend took offence because he thought I was making fun of his fat arse which is unfair because really I was simply implying that I think he's gay too.