Toys (1992) is a Masterpiece

Toys is insane. In the best possible way, this freak's choice is a movie that requires the viewer's full attention. The dialogue is whip smart and searingly funny, but can be easily lost in the strange, foggy sort of atmosphere of the whole thing. Every scene feels massively unreal, as if the movie takes place inside a playset, which is of course, thematically on point, but can make it hard to follow.

The characters don't quite react as you'd expect normal people to, and the plot, while a fantastic exploration of the link between consumerism and militarism through the thoughtless representations of real-world violence and prejudice that can be common in play, is at times absurd to the point of nonsensical. This is what makes Toys great, but it's also what makes Toys a bit of a hard movie.

I remember watching it as a child and being completely unable to understand what was going on. Watching again now, I'm not surprised. Watching this movie is a bit like viewing a snowy landscape through greasepaper. The obscurity of everything has to be embraced. You don't watch Toys as much as you let Toys wash over you.

And that works well with the sheer spectacle of the visual design, and the creepy, clanky, synth glitter goodness of the soundtrack, which really reminds you that, oh my God, it's 1992. In one scene, we see an assembly line of joyful workers assembling various toys, and Tori Amos sings moodily, "I love my job". It's amazing.

Robin Williams is here, and he's great, but my personal favourite performance is from the inimitable Joan Cusack. She's like a fairy floating through it all. She sleeps in a duck-shaped bed. She wears a big, plastic, pink wig. And she is filled with such wonder and love and passion for the toys and machines in her father's crazy factory. You can't help but love her, and smile when she smiles. But, y'know, that's me with Joan Cusack in general. She's the best.

If you weren't already lost in the great sauce of this movie by the half way point, the ending brings a great battle to fruition, in which essentially: a lot of toys are destroyed. Because they are "fighting". It's a moment of complete anarchy and chaos that strains against the edges of a movie already struggling to contain its own madness.

There's this sense of confinement to Toys. Almost every scene is in a claustrophobic, brightly coloured, meticulously decorated set. And then, in a dark room, all the toys die in a blaze of glory. Robin Williams is shouting and screaming. Explosions are going off. The sheer power of play and imagination beats opportunistic militarism. And it's so, so funny.

Four toy penguins out of five.

★★★★☆