Toy Story 3: Lotso Terror at the Movies

*Guest post by Dad2Miles

This past week, my wife asked if I’d like to take our son to an advanced screening of the new Pixar film “Toy Story 3” in 3D with free tickets she’d won. Taking Miles to his first movie in an actual theater seemed very exciting to me.

I can still remember my first time at the movies. I was probably just about Miles’ age when I saw “The Jungle Book” with my dad. Back then the theater was the only option. (Weird, huh?) That amazing memory has stuck with me all these years. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to continue the tradition with my own son.

I knew he’d love it. After all, he already loves the other Pixar movies like “Cars,” “Finding Nemo,” and “Wall-E.” He can even recite their lines verbatim. The fact that this movie was also in 3D seemed like icing on the cake. So it was decided. This would be an experience of a lifetime for my boy (and me).

I made plans to leave work early, beat the traffic, and surprise Miles with this fun, after-bed-time adventure. This would be a night he’d remember forever, and I’d be a hero just like Buzz Lightyear!

On the drive to the theater Miles clutched the movie pass in his little hands and hummed a song with excitement and anticipation. So far, so good! Unfortunately, from this moment forward, let’s just say things didn’t go exactly as planned.

As we walked into the foyer we immediately noticed a line that stretched about 100 people long, primarily made up of 20-something, out-of-shape fan boys wearing black comic book T-shirts. (Cue the skipping record player.) Hmm, not exactly what I was expecting. So we queued up behind these Kevin Smith look-a-likes as the spectacle and wonder of the theater started to diminish a little amongst their “World of Warcraft” chatter.

After about 45 min. we were finally in our seats, with popcorn and our 3D glasses. Father and son, just like I had imagined. As the movie began, the booming surround-sound and 3D technology immediately had Miles in awe, and laughing hysterically.

Unfortunately, his amusement was short-lived. The storyline started to take some questionable turns. About 30 min. in, the boys at Pixar decided to paint a rather dark and emotional third installment of this classic series.

SPOILER ALERT! STOP READING IF YOU DON’T WANT TO LEARN PLOT DETAILS

You see, in this chapter of the Toy Story trilogy, Andy, the owner of the beloved Toys, is heading off to college and the fate of his childhood playthings is up in the air. After a mix-up, Woody, Buzz, and crew end up getting donated to Sunnyside Daycare Center, where things are not as they seem.

What ensues next is essentially a turf war between the new toys and the Sunnyside toys, who are led by an evil, tubby, purple teddy bear named Lotso, whose southern accent and evil mannerisms give him the charm of a Klansmen. Our beloved Toys proceed to get tortured and dismembered by the unruly toddlers at the daycare while Lotso makes sure his clan gets quality playtime with the “good” kids.

The screenplay is actually quite hilarious and entertaining -- for me, an adult. In fact, I was so entertained that I failed to immediately notice the fear and anxiety overcoming Miles. As the content clearly became questionable for a 4 y.o., I started to wonder what this movie was rated.

At one point I noticed that Miles had ripped off his 3D glasses in an effort not to watch. There were multiple scary characters like “Big Baby,” Lotso’s creepy baby-doll enforcer with a lazy eye who reminded me of Jason from Friday the 13th, and the Tambourine Monkey.

Finally, at the movie’s climax, I began questioning my own parenting skills as we watched the good toys facing their death at the garbage dump as they rode a conveyor belt into an incinerator. The Toys were holding hands as they prepared to meet their toy-maker in the sky. Was this a scene out of “Schindler’s List” or a G-rated cartoon?!

At this moment I turned to see Miles bawling. I could hear the toddlers in front of us screaming as well. What had I DONE? “Do you want to leave?” I asked him. He managed to squeak out a yes from his knee-clutching, rocking position in his seat. “Wait,” I thought. “We can’t leave now. He’ll never go to the movies again. Certainly they’ll be rescued in the end.”

So for what seemed like an eternity, we waited for the happy ending and escaped the theater. On the way out, Miles -- who was obviously exhausted from this experience -- was clearly not happy and stated the obvious when he said he “did not like that movie.”

So much for the magic and mystery of the movies. At least he’ll have lasting memories of his first cinema experience with his dad. The question is, how many years of therapy will it take to suppress them?