Toy Story 4 (Dir Josh Cooley, 1h 40m)

Toy Story is, simply, for most people my age, a childhood. The original film (1995), which proved entirely computer generated films could and would work came out at about the time we were starting to create our own worlds of play, the second (1999) deeper, more complex, and more emotive, when we started to take notice of the world around us, and the third (2010) when we, as Andy does, put childish things aside and headed to college, university, or the world of work, a moment that, if the tears of an entire generation brought up in the years after the Cold War are anything to go by, arguably brought the curtain down upon an entire epoch of late 20th and early 21st century culture. It is the end of our childhoods on celluloid.

And yet, for all that dramatic finality, it is Toy Story 4, a further nine years down the road, that feels like a true ending, a film that manages, in its tale of the adventure of Woody (Tom Hanks), Buzz (Tim Allen), and a motley crew of toys, to rescue and convince existentially-confused spork, Forky (Tony Hale, who almost steals the show), that he is the key to making their new child, Bonnie, happy, that the series finds its true, and arguably, even more emotionally resonant ending in a film that neatly matches the familiar Toy Story humour and concepts with medium-defining visual work, and a surprisingly mature exploration of closure, identity and indeed the very purpose of existing.

Unarguably, these three concepts are perfectly rendered in the character of Forky, beginning with his very existence-in his existence, and in his character arc, we see a veritable sea change in the very concept of what Toy Story as a series is about. The first three films are, unquestionably, about aging, with the films themselves almost perfectly paced in their very release dates so that we see our own bond with our playthings reflected in Woody, Buzz and the gang's changing relationship as Andy ages, as well as a remarkably unflinching view of aging and loss from the perspective of the toys.

Forky, however, is less concerned with his relationship with Bonnie as her toy, and more an internal self-reflection. "Why am I here?" comes out of his mouth more than once in his first few minutes of existence, with his belief that he is not, in fact a toy, but trash adding what, for a children's film, is a surprising degree of self-doubt and even nihilism-one could even argue that Forky is, for lack of a better word, suicidal, a single use-spork intent on going to where single-use sporks go, despite having been given life-not since that other great Disney depressive, Eeyore has something akin to mental illness been covered by this type of animation, and it is to the credit of the scripting team that it is dealt with as maturely and as nuanced as it is here.

Even if one reads a little less into the actions of Forky, and merely consider him a character coming to terms with whom he is, rather than what he was, he still goes through a crisis of existence, not dissimilar to Buzz in the first film. It is only after Woody not only rescues him from his multiple attempts to bin himself, and, after Forky leaves them marooned, talks him out of further self-disposal attempts, that Forky begins to realise both his importance and his purpose in Bonnie's life, and slowly begins to settle into his role as her toy.

Yet, we see other characters-particularly once the film reaches the Second Chance Antique Shop, a lushly vibrant location, that, together with a nearby carnival, give a far greater scale to this sequel than many of the previous films-that also struggle with purpose, closure, or indeed both. It asks, simply "What is a toy without a child?". Nowhere is this seen better than in the closest thing this film has to a villain, Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks), a toy who has, due to defective parts, spent most of her existence on the shelves of Second Chance, who wishes for little more than her own child to spend time with-without a child, she becomes violent, even dangerous, with her army of genuinely creepy ventriloquist dummies in search of the missing piece.

Yet, it is in her exchanges with Forky, in the scenes between a toy that desperately wants to be played with, and a toy that does not want to be a toy, and between Gabby and Woody that the audience begins to sympathise with this broken and abandoned toy, and together with Forky, it is her narrative arc that has perhaps the best payoff, and the best reward. The other denizens of the shop and the fairground have similar approaches, either entirely lacking a child, in the case of Key and Peele's double-act as a remarkably vengeful Ducky and Bunny, or in the case of Keanu Reeves' all-Canadian stunt rider, Duke Caboom, still suffering the loss of their child, thrown aside or replaced by other toys-Caboom's previous owner having, in a surprisingly affecting scene, got rid of him because he did not match the commercial, leading to a running gag of self-doubt.

These may be familiar story beats from the previous three films, but due to the voice talent, the writing, or simply because the stakes feel so much higher, there's an undeniable freshness, an endearing quality to all of the new additions to the cast, with Reeves continuing what seems like a renaissance all of his own, whilst the flights of fancy from Ducky and Bunny, in ever-increasingly violent revenge schemes against their captors have a gleefully violent streak to them. Keeping this rag-tag group together is a major feat in itself, and to have all of these characters bounce off each other in a number of surprisingly taut setpieces brings some of the best laughs in any Disney Pixar film to date.

 Very different in her approach to being a "Lost Toy" is Bo Peep, whose disappearance opens the film in a beautifully tense, positively heartbreaking sequence, and whose reappearance, as a Mad Max-esque free-roaming toy, living on her wits and travelling from place, leaves Woody conflicted between returning with Forky to Bonnie, to setting out with his old flame to see the world. Bo Peep, for her part, is a tough and resourceful survivor, who philosophically notes that it is better to be free, rather than on a shelf in the vain hope for another child. In a series where the bond between toy and child is positively sacrosanct, where even the most unloved toys finally find an owner, this moral comes out of left-field and is positively revolutionary.

Thus, Woody, for the first time in the entire series, begins to seriously question who he is, between a degree of servitude to his owner, Bonnie, and a free spirit, unburdened by and having finished their "job" of helping a child reach adulthood. This, compared to the rest of the film, truly is a Toy's Story-the humans may influence parts of the story, with Bonnie's family due to move on without Forky, Woody, and an increasing number of the gang, but it is a story driven by their friendships with each other, and by the decisions they take to find their place in the world-the denouement is too good to give away here, but it is in my humble opinion that it may be among the greatest Disney moments ever filmed, and perfectly encapsulates the difficulty, and importance, of the choice Woody makes.

 Around this adventure of the heart, in both the look and feel of this film, Disney continue to push the bar higher and higher-the opening scenes feature, what in essence is a potted history of the entire trilogy thus far, and just to see Andy and Woody and the rest of the characters, old and new, looking this good visually, in beautifully realised locations, with a voicecast that fit perfectly, is enough to emphasise how far Disney have actually come, how far computer generated animation has come, in the last 24 years. On looks alone this film is worth entry price-not a second is wasted, not a moment misplaced. It is one of the most perfectly built films Disney have ever made, and it is-without a doubt-even bettter than its predecessor.

Yet, to find a film that so perfectly encapsulates that sense of finding one's identity, whether it be with a familiar group of friends, or with an entirely new group, to find one's sense of self, to feel like one belongs or has a purpose, to be able, even to a degree, to answer that question "who am I? Why am I here?" is a rare feat itself, and to do so inside a children's film an even rarer one. Yet, this is as much a film for that audience that grew up with the first three films, as it is for those children born after that period. There is, undoubtedly, a poignancy, to this fourth film, an even greater sense of an era ending, but with it comes a story about new beginnings, in finding yourself, and your path in life, at any age. Disney end one of the greatest animated series ever on the highest possible note

Rating: Must See (Personal Recommendation)