Toys (1992)

I'm still not sure how Barry Levinson's Toys managed not to make it into my original 31 days of film writeups, given that I seem to remember it being one of the titles I had in mind when I conceived the blog in the first place. I wouldn't say it's the kind of movie I love, but it's certainly the kind with which I have an unholy fascination, the sort where somebody clearly had a vision but things somehow went awry and the finished product landed up being not so much awful as genuinely mystifying.

This, apparently, is the film that Levinson wanted to direct all his life - not Good Morning, Vietnam, but this, a slightly satirical tale about the horrors of war starring Robin Wi - okay, a different slightly satirical tale about the horrors of war.

Our hero here is Leslie Zevo, a puckish manchild who stands to inherit the Zevo Toy factory. It's a gentle place, where a happy, dancing workforce cheerfully construct old-style clockwork dolls and stuffed animals under the watchful eye of Leslie's father, Kenneth (Donald O'Connor). Kenneth is dying, however, and while he always dreamed of handing the factory over to his son, he feels he lacks the necessary drive. His daughter Alsatia isn't suitable hands either, for various reasons, so he feels compelled to offer the factory to his brother, Lt. General Leland Zevo (Michael Gambon). 

Leland is a senior military figure and a stern disciplinarian. He now has access to a factory full of charming, nostalgic toys. The rest writes itself, doesn't it? Watch, and you may land up wishing it actually had...

The good

I won't say that this is a visually appealing film, because it isn't, not particularly. Ferdinando Scarfiotti's set designs look unlike anything else I've ever seen before, though, like a pastel version of a city from an old Communist Bloc country, right down to the sweeping diagonal lines on the murals. It's nicely complimented by Albert Wolsky's costume designs, too, which walk the tightrope that divides the bizarre from the plausible without faltering, remaining notably attractive without detracting from the action, such as it is. 

Thematically, too, there are definitely points of interest - narrative devices involving drones and video games are actively prescient, unfortunately. I'm paraphrasing quite heavily, but Terry Gilliam once said words to the effect that he'd never expected his Brazil to become a documentary, and the same, perhaps, could be said of certain plot elements here.

Finally, I just want to put a word in for the character of Patrick, as played by LL Cool J, who manages to be the most interesting human in the film by a long way. His speech about how he doesn't like things to touch on his dinner plate is one of the few genuine joys in a largely charmless endeavour.

The bad

Somewhere near the film's climactic battle, one of my cats brought a sparrow in. Eww, I said, A dead sparrow. Take it to Mr. Beaupepys, Arthur. And Arthur, being unusually generous with his kill, did just that, taking it to Mr. B and setting it down at his feet. The sparrow promptly flew away and out of the house, leaving us startled and laughing in relief while Arthur, baffled, retreated to his bowl, presumably in the hope of finding some food that would fight fair. Reluctantly, I turned my attention back to the movie. It's just one of those sorts of films, I guess; the sort where you can look at it for a few seconds and it's mildly interesting, but it doesn't take long for the interest to wear off and leave you seeking something shinier or flutterier or flat-out better.

I suspect the problem is that Toys' good guys are so hard to root for. Robin Williams in manic mode tends to be too hyper to make for a sympathetic hero, whilst Joan Cusack's Alsatia is weird to the point of being sinister for reasons which are never adequately explained until far too late in the day. They lead a workforce who don't seem so much cheerful as actively brainwashed, dancing along to a dirge that sounds like Kate Bush on an uninspired day even as they work at circular conveyor belts topped by blank-eyed toy heads. The toys themselves are grotesque as well, sinister clockwork things, all sharp edges and insectile scuttling, far more unsettling than an honest tank or toy gun.

Stood against them, meanwhile, is Michael Gambon, in a role for which he should be ideally suited. Poor scripting and direction, however, effectively neuter him, leaving the General unconvincing as either a pantomime villain or a genuine threat.

Towards the end, there were a couple of low-grade sex scenes, and I found myself wondering whether these were really appropriate for a kids' film. I'm not sure Toys is true family material, though - it might conceivably be nightmare fodder for certain kids, true, but more to the point, for long stretches it's simply deeply dull.

The verdict

An uninteresting treatment of potentially interesting subject material, and one which wastes a good cast and some genuinely intriguing production design. Toys is passable entertainment for curio hunters and completist fans of individual cast members, but there's little here that hasn't been done elsewhere, and done better.