I’m not sure if there was ever a time when the general rule of thumb with sequels didn’t mandate adjusting expectations downward in rough accordance with the increasing number of installments. Even so, as the franchise mentality has almost entirely subsumed any sort of ambition in Hollywood magic-making, it’s appropriate to abandon any vestiges of hope that return visits by favorite characters will be handled with a level of inspiration beyond those usually devoted to examining focus group feedback sheets on the way to modifying laundry detergent packaging. Of course, it’s a different matter when the artists at Pixar are involved. Returning to the digitally drawn world that launched their efforts in feature animation fifteen years earlier, Pixar proved that diminishing returns aren’t a necessity when care and craft are brought to the creative process. Toy Story 3 stands with both of its mighty predecessors as a deeply felt, emotionally satisfying, giddily enjoyable movie that fully transcends any preconceptions that might be in place about its automatic inferiority as kids’ entertainment. Toy Story 3 doesn’t need to be graded on a curve. It’s not good “for what it is” in the way that routinely earns plaudits for other middling computer animated efforts that stand out for any hints of wit or charm. As directed by Lee Unkrich, the third time through with Woody, Buzz and their clan of sentient playthings is rife with excitement and ingenuity–nothing made me laugh harder in a movie theater this year than the heroic efforts of Mr. Pitahead–but it also cuts to the core of what has made these movies work wonderfully: the undying love the toys feel for their owner. The sense of abandonment they feel and the obsolescence they fear can be compared to any number of common human concerns, but it works quite well purely thinking of those emotions in the hearts and minds of the toys, at least for anyone who ever hugged a teddy bear with honest conviction.