How does someone get like this?
Track with me ,if you will, the fevered discourse of some poor social justice warrior named Stephen Galloway, who authored what apparently is intended as a serious critique in the Hollywood Reporter titled, “The Whiteness of ‘Toy Story 4.”
Was there any movie this past year as exuberantly entertaining, as creatively conceived as Toy Story 4? Ever since the franchise was launched in 1995, it’s been a cornucopia of riches, from its indelible characters to its unparalleled animation…The picture … left me in awe.
Well, that’s the end of the matter, isn’t it? It should be. This was, the the other three films, a vehicle of entertainment. Virtually everyone who saw it was entertained, even me, and I found it the least of its three predecessors and annoying for its blatant pandering to feminists (Bo Peep suddenly morphed into Lara Croft).
But alas, no..
So why did a slightly bitter taste linger, a sense that something was naggingly wrong? Because in many ways TS4′s worldview seems like an Eisenhower-era fantasy, a vision of America that might have come from the most die-hard reactionary: lovely if you’re wealthy and white, but alarming if you’re black or brown or gay or a member of any other minority — in other words, more than half the U.S. population.
Oh, bite me. The characters are toys. Toys don’t have races. They don’t have sex. I wonder if a single child saw this film and spent one second wondering about why there wasn’t a gay or Hispanic toy, or thought about whether the Potato Heads are “of color,’ being brown, or if “Bunny,” voiced by African-American actor Jordan Peele, is “of color” because he’s blue. Nobody normal, of any age, thinks like that, unless they have been brain-washed into a miserable world view….like the author, who really complains that one of the new characters is “a very white fork.” Oh! Right! The second I saw “Forkie,” I thought, “Another white guy!”
Who thinks like this? Is there a name for the disease?
Galloway quotes a black director, Matthew Cherry, saying, “When you don’t see yourself represented and you don’t see people with your same type of hair seen as the hero and seen as loving and desired, it really does a number on your self-confidence.”
Does Cherry think that mindset is healthy or leads to racial harmony? Is there a shred of evidence that black and Hispanic kids enjoyed “Toy Story 4” less than white kids because Forkie wasn’t brown? This isn’t a societal sickness; this is relentless race-hucksters trying to make American society sick.
It gets worse:
Nor is it just the near-absence of people of color that’s bothersome. It’s the absence of anything approximating life in America as most of us know it. TS4’s main family lives in a big, brightly lit house in an ivory utopia; its daughter sleeps in a plush room packed with a U.S. Treasury’s worth of gizmos; they drive around in a gas-guzzling RV, stopping for carnivals and carnies that would be right at home in the 1940s or 1950s. Problems of prejudice, money and unemployment never seem to cross anyone’s mind…Not only is it unconnected to reality; it conveys the idea this is what reality should be.
Did the writer somehow miss that this is a cartoon, and that it takes place in a universe where toys come alive? It’s a fantasy, like “The Wizard of Oz,” or “Star Wars,” or “Grease,” or “Bambi.” Does he really find the absent references to crack, abortion, and predator priests in “Toy Story” a problem?
There is a time to obsess about race and other problems. Watching “Toy Story 4” is not one of them. People like Stephen Galloway, and the bastards who indoctrinated him, don’t respect normal human beings’ right to the pursuit of happiness and the enjoyment of life.
He put me in mind of an incident in my junior year in college. It was a beautiful Saturday morning in the spring , one of those New England spring days that make you understand how the Pilgrims got through the brutal winters—they had this too look forward to. I had five room mates, and they were all in a great mood for once.. We went to breakfast together; we argued politics, we decided to go to that afternoon’s Red Sox game together….because it was such a beautiful day.
Right before noon, there was a knock on the door of a suite. An earnest-looking underclassman had clip board and a petition, and he was there to get us to sign an anti-pollution petition, he said. “I want you to look out the window at the beautiful sky,” the young man said. “Isn’t it a stunning blue? Yet, imagine: that sky is 32% less brilliant than just 20 years ago because of air pollution!”
And my unsentimental room mate Dave, 6 foot five and strong like a lumberjack, grabbed the student by the arm and dragged him to the door. Listen you son of a bitch, you don’t come here on a beautiful day and tell us it’s not good enough! Until you showed up, I thought it was perfect, and I was happy. Now I’m pissed off…at you. Now get the hell out.” Then he threw him out the door.
People like that student, and Galloway, are so consumed with their obsessions that they make life unbearable for everyone else on the theory that only universal dissatisfaction and misery will press us on to Nirvana. But they will never be satisfied, or happy; they are dedicated to finding convenient flaws in everything, even “Toy Story.”
Dave had the right idea.
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