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kradeelavI skimmed over a youtube review of 'brave little toaster' the other night with a gen z fellow talking about the themes in the movie and what it "was about". It was nice seeing that the movie's been touching successive generations beyond the group that was a young kid in the late 80's and early 90's, but one part of his review bugged me, where he was nitpicking the 'sentimentality' of old appliances and comparing it to toy story in a limited way of what the the emotional core of the movie was about.
no, no no. you did a decent job, but no -
- that movie is about faith.
faith, and then love and hope to a lesser degree; maybe it's the ex-fundie in me. cherishing old beloved appliances is a singular visual "theme" and a huge part of the plot but it's not what it's about. it's not the emotional linchpin that describes why toaster and gang decides to go on their mission to find their beloved master, and it's not the beating heart that keeps them (and us) going after doubt and misery and harm and what increasingly looks like a futile mission to find their master in the vast expanse of the world.
talking about faith as a positive trait is not considered "sexy" in these times; and as an ex-fundie, I do get it.
we all rebel against our parents (and their generation as a whole) in subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle ways and time has marched on where science is the sexier alternative to religion in public life. i use "faith" here in that quiet way one would use for the higher power, Master, or Muse one believes in the most and especially in times of crisis - not specifically for the protestant christan god that the word tends to (unfairly) automatically get coupled with. faith in the sense of that anchor (regardless who or what shape it takes) in the bunker, on the operating table, on your knees in the worst day of your life when there's nothing else to turn to except that terrible grey bleakness.
faith as the most powerful force in individuals to go on. a calling to exist, to live, to thrive for something else if not for our sense of selfishness - what is it, if not the greatest compassion and gift one human can give back to the cosmos as an act of unparalleled trust?
(I can see why faith isn't talked about often in media. it's too ... much, too vulnerable, too immediately childlike in the intensity and simplicity if done badly. and yet dare i say this lack of trust in each other in humanity of this current time speaks to a lack of goodwill and faith to each other. but i digress-)
emotional cores of movies (done right) often have a vivid moment of deepest darkness where you see the equal and exact opposite of the the redeeming virtue - lies to trust, cowardice to courage, and here - it's a crisis of faith.
BLT has faith woven through the whole core of the film, so it's not only hammered in with the gang as a whole, not only with the secondary characters (air conditioner's moment of crisis and self immolation at being 'left behind' and whirlpool of doubts that it will be now alone, alone terrifyingly alone-) - but this thread of faith is repeated with every major character having a crisis. starting with:
lampy's during the lightning storm when he had to put his body (and life) on the line on a "maybe" that the lightning bolt would re-charge their generator, or otherwise their mission would be stranded before it really started. with the character always framed as the slightly cowardly, not-as-bright (heh) character of the gang,
i do find it pretty poetic that it was a courageous moment like that that truly defined him from then on. faith in others came easily for lampy as a 'follower' personality; but faith in himself to be an equal member of the gang likely did not.
radio's crisis of faith also clearly centering on his experience at the junk shop - being under the spotlight and almost truly being vivisected and dissected, and with him collecting his vanishing pride in admitting he needs help from the others to avoid that gristly fate. radio was always the one that faced previous crisis with a wisecrack, with defiance, with a sense that faith simply was for children or old wives' tales -
(jesus fuck this movie was dark).
-- but in this scenario? no amount of wisecracks was going to save him from a fate worse death. only a plan and faith in his friends would land him out of hot water.
kirby's crisis of faith came at the waterfall; when he had his breakdown and that proud thing simply could not go on in the face of loosing his mind, (water and electronics don't mix, and this movie was brilliant playing up on what very reasonable fears appliances would have, versus a meatbag's.) even when the rest of the group needed him. his arc feels like a direct opposite of lampy's in some ways, always being the last one to believe in the group as a cohesive self; he had faith in himself, not in other flawed beings. until he, too, was profoundly vulnerable and robbed of the dignity of lucidity and control of himself.
(given kirby is my guilty favorite as a fellow fiercely independent cynical bastard, this one feels particularly poignant. the particular terror of mental/medical anxiety is a motherfucker.)
blanky's was the trickiest to hone in on a specific arc of faith, but that in itself reveals an genius quality in the writing that its personality is very soft and shape-able as reflective of the character design as a literal security blanket - the youngest as the group, more willing to blindly trust the rest of the members (especially toaster) in the mindset of a child. blanky started the mission with an excess of faith, even; ready to believe that the master was coming home at any minute during the opening scene after the song. its faith was tested and tried cruelly - even as some of the other thicker-skinned characters poked fun, even as toaster was exasperated at the sheer naivety once or twice --
and yet blanky was rewarded to be the first one to see that the master (at the junkyard), had truly come for them. that simple act of carrying around that photo in blind faith was legit the act (of faith) that saved them all at the junkyard climax.
toaster's saved for last, of course, when it was the moment to throw itself into the the junkyard shredder in a very literal 'do or die' moment to save their Master. it was not an easy decision! even as much as toaster truly loves the Master, you see them hesitate ... three, four critical beats to see if there was any way that sacrifice could be avoided ... and yet it was that faith that did the jump.
my favorite, favorite sing-along line in any movie comes from this precise moment where the gang as a whole has a crisis-of-faith. there's a lot of "lows" for them in the film, but imagine:being a stranger in a strange land with strange rules, in the face of immediate danger of death and dissection, feeling the furthest away from their master ... there's this -
"there goes the sun,
here comes the night,
somebody turn on the li-ight-!
somebody tell me that fate has been kind! ...
that plaintive 'somebody' is no purer a declaration of the emotional core of faith than anything else I have seen.
faith is knowing that that power will see you through it (death, insanity, endless pain of the kind your mind shuts down long after your body has- ), and a crisis is the sudden existential terror that faith will not. that there is nothing but more terror on the other side, there is no hand reaching out to you afterwards. terror itself has a pretty funky way of erasing the objective likelihood that it will end (the gang do find their master shortly thereafter, after one more trial).
to that point:
that the rest of this track riffs off of familiar horror movie tropes and names is genius - (' it's a b-movie, it's a b-movie show-") the briefest of implications that life itself is a horror show in that state of terror. there's something to the endearing cheesiness of the horror movie nod that both cuts down on this being too serious for itself (it's a bunch of appliances singing about vincent price, let's face it, even if it's disgustingly catchy) - but also underscores how paramount faith is to every good horror movie too - that there comes a dawn, an end.
and it's that end that anchors this movie - that confirmation of faith in each other, in themselves, and their master that the journey (and crisis) was worth it.
no, no no. you did a decent job, but no -
- that movie is about faith.
faith, and then love and hope to a lesser degree; maybe it's the ex-fundie in me. cherishing old beloved appliances is a singular visual "theme" and a huge part of the plot but it's not what it's about. it's not the emotional linchpin that describes why toaster and gang decides to go on their mission to find their beloved master, and it's not the beating heart that keeps them (and us) going after doubt and misery and harm and what increasingly looks like a futile mission to find their master in the vast expanse of the world.
talking about faith as a positive trait is not considered "sexy" in these times; and as an ex-fundie, I do get it.
we all rebel against our parents (and their generation as a whole) in subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle ways and time has marched on where science is the sexier alternative to religion in public life. i use "faith" here in that quiet way one would use for the higher power, Master, or Muse one believes in the most and especially in times of crisis - not specifically for the protestant christan god that the word tends to (unfairly) automatically get coupled with. faith in the sense of that anchor (regardless who or what shape it takes) in the bunker, on the operating table, on your knees in the worst day of your life when there's nothing else to turn to except that terrible grey bleakness.
faith as the most powerful force in individuals to go on. a calling to exist, to live, to thrive for something else if not for our sense of selfishness - what is it, if not the greatest compassion and gift one human can give back to the cosmos as an act of unparalleled trust?
(I can see why faith isn't talked about often in media. it's too ... much, too vulnerable, too immediately childlike in the intensity and simplicity if done badly. and yet dare i say this lack of trust in each other in humanity of this current time speaks to a lack of goodwill and faith to each other. but i digress-)
emotional cores of movies (done right) often have a vivid moment of deepest darkness where you see the equal and exact opposite of the the redeeming virtue - lies to trust, cowardice to courage, and here - it's a crisis of faith.
BLT has faith woven through the whole core of the film, so it's not only hammered in with the gang as a whole, not only with the secondary characters (air conditioner's moment of crisis and self immolation at being 'left behind' and whirlpool of doubts that it will be now alone, alone terrifyingly alone-) - but this thread of faith is repeated with every major character having a crisis. starting with:
lampy's during the lightning storm when he had to put his body (and life) on the line on a "maybe" that the lightning bolt would re-charge their generator, or otherwise their mission would be stranded before it really started. with the character always framed as the slightly cowardly, not-as-bright (heh) character of the gang,
i do find it pretty poetic that it was a courageous moment like that that truly defined him from then on. faith in others came easily for lampy as a 'follower' personality; but faith in himself to be an equal member of the gang likely did not.
radio's crisis of faith also clearly centering on his experience at the junk shop - being under the spotlight and almost truly being vivisected and dissected, and with him collecting his vanishing pride in admitting he needs help from the others to avoid that gristly fate. radio was always the one that faced previous crisis with a wisecrack, with defiance, with a sense that faith simply was for children or old wives' tales -
(jesus fuck this movie was dark).
-- but in this scenario? no amount of wisecracks was going to save him from a fate worse death. only a plan and faith in his friends would land him out of hot water.
kirby's crisis of faith came at the waterfall; when he had his breakdown and that proud thing simply could not go on in the face of loosing his mind, (water and electronics don't mix, and this movie was brilliant playing up on what very reasonable fears appliances would have, versus a meatbag's.) even when the rest of the group needed him. his arc feels like a direct opposite of lampy's in some ways, always being the last one to believe in the group as a cohesive self; he had faith in himself, not in other flawed beings. until he, too, was profoundly vulnerable and robbed of the dignity of lucidity and control of himself.
(given kirby is my guilty favorite as a fellow fiercely independent cynical bastard, this one feels particularly poignant. the particular terror of mental/medical anxiety is a motherfucker.)
blanky's was the trickiest to hone in on a specific arc of faith, but that in itself reveals an genius quality in the writing that its personality is very soft and shape-able as reflective of the character design as a literal security blanket - the youngest as the group, more willing to blindly trust the rest of the members (especially toaster) in the mindset of a child. blanky started the mission with an excess of faith, even; ready to believe that the master was coming home at any minute during the opening scene after the song. its faith was tested and tried cruelly - even as some of the other thicker-skinned characters poked fun, even as toaster was exasperated at the sheer naivety once or twice --
and yet blanky was rewarded to be the first one to see that the master (at the junkyard), had truly come for them. that simple act of carrying around that photo in blind faith was legit the act (of faith) that saved them all at the junkyard climax.
toaster's saved for last, of course, when it was the moment to throw itself into the the junkyard shredder in a very literal 'do or die' moment to save their Master. it was not an easy decision! even as much as toaster truly loves the Master, you see them hesitate ... three, four critical beats to see if there was any way that sacrifice could be avoided ... and yet it was that faith that did the jump.
my favorite, favorite sing-along line in any movie comes from this precise moment where the gang as a whole has a crisis-of-faith. there's a lot of "lows" for them in the film, but imagine:being a stranger in a strange land with strange rules, in the face of immediate danger of death and dissection, feeling the furthest away from their master ... there's this -
"there goes the sun,
here comes the night,
somebody turn on the li-ight-!
somebody tell me that fate has been kind! ...
that plaintive 'somebody' is no purer a declaration of the emotional core of faith than anything else I have seen.
faith is knowing that that power will see you through it (death, insanity, endless pain of the kind your mind shuts down long after your body has- ), and a crisis is the sudden existential terror that faith will not. that there is nothing but more terror on the other side, there is no hand reaching out to you afterwards. terror itself has a pretty funky way of erasing the objective likelihood that it will end (the gang do find their master shortly thereafter, after one more trial).
to that point:
that the rest of this track riffs off of familiar horror movie tropes and names is genius - (' it's a b-movie, it's a b-movie show-") the briefest of implications that life itself is a horror show in that state of terror. there's something to the endearing cheesiness of the horror movie nod that both cuts down on this being too serious for itself (it's a bunch of appliances singing about vincent price, let's face it, even if it's disgustingly catchy) - but also underscores how paramount faith is to every good horror movie too - that there comes a dawn, an end.
and it's that end that anchors this movie - that confirmation of faith in each other, in themselves, and their master that the journey (and crisis) was worth it.
----
(did i just write a whole-ass essay on a children's movie .... apparently.
i was awake at 3am with a cold and suddenly this essay starts getting penned. blame it on the cold meds?)
