Toys

Before there was Small Soldiers, there was this film that took something of same subject matter, but in a superior fashion.

When the kids in the film see the toy soldiers in the display, the film presents them as a glamourous bunch with light music highlight how cool they are. However, when these toys come to life, the music suddenly stops and the whole atmosphere becomes foreboding as these soldiers go through the motions of their roles.

When the fighting erupts, the violence displayed is horrific as it is run with rapid cuts and stark lighting. Nothing is untouched, there are scenes of explosions, hurled bodies, death spasms, soldiers being bayoneted and incessant gunfire. All of it is contributing to a terrifying mess of imagery and sound that is all carefully calculated to deglamorize war.

All of this culminates with the sequence of one surviving soldier inspecting the area with all its sickening plastic carnage that seems so authentic in an abstract manner. Then the soldier is discovered and is hit with a flame throwing with a death scream. You will be chilled to the bone, even if they are dolls.

To this day, I cannot see 12" inch figures without those lingering images, which is the precise point of the filmmakers who intended to show what the real purpose of soldiers and war.

. . . goes a long way in explaining why the continent's North-most region's Vietnam War veterans came back from Southeast Asia so much better adjusted for a happy return to a shallow Civilian Life than their counterparts to the South, aka ticking time bombs prone to explode at the drop of military-style semi-automatic assault rife. TOYS begins by showing a mixed group of Canadian tykes goggling a vacuous cocktail party being conducted by a gaggle of carefree Ken's and Barbie's. However, the mood soon sobers, as all the Ken's are sent overseas into a vicious war zone. Realistic sound effects horrify the kids, as some of the Ken's are ripped limb-from-limb by tank and artillery shells, land mines and aerial bombings. However, for the surviving Ken's, the upbeat party music eventually resumes, with the sadder but not much wiser dudes dealing the chicks once again. By ingraining such lessons about recognizing when it's time to forget the past and move on--rather than wallowing in P. T. S. D., like their southerly neighbors--upon impressionable youngsters, Canada commits a rare display of Common Sense.

I first saw "Toys" in 1966 or maybe 1967; I was 8 or 9, and very fond of my original G.I. Joes (the toy of the title). I can still recall the frisson created by the flame-thrower scene, and the power of the whole film. I saw the film again about 7 or 8 years later, as part of a film studies class, and I was still in awe of the power of the piece. Today, teaching film and video to high school students, I use "Toys" as part of a unit on war films; students still react.

The most remarkable thing is how short this short is. I fully expected, as an adult, for it to be in 15 - 20 minute range; it is a mere 8 minutes. Every second of the film is pregnant with potential; Grant Monroe did not waste a single shot in this NFB classic. The stop-action animation is very good -- right up there with some of the classic stop-action material of the 60s, and surprisingly "life like" considering the fixed facial expression of G.I. Joes, and their limited hand positions.

I give this film one of the highest ratings I have ever given, and I feel it earns every single star.

This reminded me that when I was young, I had a toy submarine. You'd put a tablet - like an Alka Selzer - into it and it would sink to the bottom of the bath. As the tablet dissolved, the thing was supposed to rise to the surface but mine leaked so it was destined never to get to periscope depth! The toys here all start off similarly benign enough, but gradually they turn into playthings altogether more menacing as uniforms start to creep onto their frames, then they acquire guns, rockets, tanks and missiles before we remember that melted plastic is not pretty and looks distinctly akin to the after-effects of napalm. What's probably most incongruous here is the jolly music that suggests a sort of enthusiastic television advertising campaign for something harmless rather than something that could just be seen as glorifying or celebrating violence, and even - to an extent - sexism, too. Maybe I'm overthinking the intention of the film here, but the gullible young eyes watching their potential Christmas gifts through the shop window did rather rankle a bit as this quickly paced and actually quite graphic short feature made it's point.