In at least one respect, “Lightyear” can claim some distinction: It’s the first Pixar movie ever to be cited as a Pixar character’s favorite movie. There’s more than just brand inflation at work here (though there is also that). In the original “Toy Story,” you’ll recall, a boy named Andy received an action figure of Buzz Lightyear, an intrepid space explorer with pop-out wings, a red laser pointer and an air of genial self-importance summed up by an instant-classic catchphrase (“To infinity … and beyond!”). Now, at the beginning of “Lightyear,” we learn that that prized toy was a piece of promotional merchandise for Andy’s favorite film, and that film happens to be “Lightyear” itself.
This is a neat bit of chronological reverse-engineering, a clever way of disguising a feature-length “Toy Story” tie-in as its opposite. It also raises some interesting but probably ignorable questions. Like, what about “Buzz Lightyear of Star Command,” the Disney spinoff series that aired in the early 2000s? Also, why does “Lightyear,” an animated feature supposedly made prior to 1995, look this shiny and state-of-the-art? Shouldn’t it look more like — well, like “Toy Story,” speaking of ’95 releases?
A certain aesthetic modesty suited that early Pixar classic, which took place in a couple of suburban kids’ bedrooms and featured an ensemble composed mostly from plastic and fabric. And if “Toy Story’s” visuals seem dated now, especially compared with more recent Pixar movies, that can only have deepened its message about how the things we loved as children inevitably change, because we of course change ourselves.
