I really do hope this is the last one. Toy Story 3 has a scene where young Andy (voiced by John Morris) is emptying his childhood bedroom, preparing to leave for college, and his mother sees the bare floor and walls and is overcome with emotion. And we remember right in that instant that this very bedroom, back in 1995, is where we as moviegoers first met Woody the cowboy (Tom Hanks), Space Ranger Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), and all their joyfully neurotic toy friends; but also where we first met the animation company Pixar, and the whole concept of a fully-digital animated film.

For a long time, Toy Story was the only world Pixar re-visited, the only movie in its acclaimed roster to get a sequel. That is about to change, with the likes of Cars and Monsters, Inc. now set for the franchise treatment. Andy’s departure as a grown-up young man could truly mark the end of the first generation of Pixar – no longer a rambunctious start-up but the industry’s dominant creative and financial institution.

Their latest film finds them re-trenching on safe ground after more daring spectacles like WALL*E and Up. For much of its running time it is charming, it is imaginative, and it is beautifully rendered by the artists, who take full advantage of the resources purchased by 15 years’ success without violating the aesthetics established by the episodes made in more primitive times. We meet new toys, and enjoy some fast-paced laughs and thrills. But it feels mostly like a succession of gags and adventures featuring characters we already love rather than anything urgent or fresh. It’s only in its ending that Toy Story 3 becomes a very good story, and I will talk more about that in a moment.

As it opens, Andy’s mother (Laurie Metcalf) is insistently broaching the uncomfortable topic of what to do with his toys. Few of them remain, and they have lain unused in his toybox for many years. Woody, devoted Woody, believes that, as Andy’s toys, their mission is to always be there for him should he ever want to play with them again, and if that means a life in the attic with the Christmas decorations, so be it.

But a series of mishaps both drives a wedge between Woody and the other toys, and sees them inadvertently donated to the Sunny Side Day Care Center. To Buzz, Jessie (Joan Cusack), Bullseye, Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head (Don Rickles and Estelle Harris), Rex (Wallace Shawn), Hamm (John Ratzenberger), and Slinky Dog (veteran character actor Blake Clark, subbing for his late friend Jim Varney), it has the look of a toy’s paradise – endless play with an eternally-renewing supply of children. A Barbie Doll belonging to Andy’s little sister Molly (and voiced by The Little Mermaid herself, Jodi Benson) has arrived with them, and at last meets a Ken (Michael Keaton). Sparks fly at Ken’s Dream House.

Of course there is much more to Sunny Side and its folksy alpha toy, the plush Lotso Huggin’ Bear (Ned Beatty), and soon pleasures give way to toy-scaled terrors. I am not sure which Sunny Side denizen is creepier – the baby doll enforcer with the droopy eye, or that cymbal-clanging monkey in the security room. And so our heroes, with Woody’s help, scheme an escape that involves such inspirations as exploiting Ken’s wardrobe fetish and (you must see to understand) bringing a tortilla to life. Buzz, as he often does, finds himself in personality conflict.

Things turn far more perilous than you might guess – by the end these toys are facing real literal death, and doing it with an amazing kind of courage. The makers of Toy Story 3 have not forgotten that we bond with these characters through their suffering. Even its villain is seen as not born bad, but as someone who was wounded deeply by a misfortune that could befall any toy, and nursed his anger about it until it changed him.

Toy Story 3 is enjoying incredible success right now in a disappointing summer at the multiplex, and I am sure there will be immense pressure to capitalize on the possibilities for future sequels inherent in its emotional ending. I believe that the ending is rather extraordinary, but only if you see it as the true conclusion of the story.

Here is why: this has always been the story of Woody, and his attempt to pierce the mystery of the life of a toy – like so many he strives to understand how best to fulfill the purpose of his existence. First he helped to teach Buzz, as they went from rivals to best friends and Buzz discovered he was not a real Space Ranger, about the virtue in inspiring the imaginations of children, and starring in their play. Then, in the even more provocative and moving second film, he was essentially forced to acknowledge his own mortality – and chose the finite joy of being Andy’s plaything, knowing at any time he could be abandoned or forgotten or destroyed, over immortality as an ever-preserved but never-touched exhibit in a toy museum.

This third film shows the bill from that choice coming due, and the screenplay, by Oscar-winner Michael Arndt (writer of Little Miss Sunshine), achieves poignant release because it once again finds Woody making a devastating choice, one only he can make. How could you produce a Toy Story 4 after this? Toy Story 3 shows Woody achieving true enlightenment within the toy philosophy – and with no lessons left that need learning, we should respect his maturity by letting him go. We’ll always have that bedroom.

P.S.: While the feature Toy Story 3 might not represent a risk on the part of Pixar, it is preceded by an animated short, Day & Night (directed by Teddy Newton), which is ecstatically radical. It is more of an experience than a plot, personifying and contrasting the sounds and rhythms and activities of light and dark on Earth in a way that is so conceptually tricky yet dumbfoundingly simple that I will leave you to be astounded by it for yourself. I saw it in an audience of children who were captivated into silence – they understood immediately. It carries a beautiful message of understanding and embracing that which is not like us, and as a final means of underlying its point, does so by marrying Pixar’s trademark 3D brilliance with…old-fashioned 2-D hand-drawn art. An absolute triumph.

The Incredibles
Director: Brad Bird
Writer: Brad Bird
Producer: John Walker
Featuring the voices of: Craig T. Nelson, Holly Hunter, Jason Lee, Samuel L. Jackson, Elizabeth Peña, Spencer Fox, Sarah Vowell

Some movies move fast because they’re afraid that if they slow down, they’ll die. We sense their desperation, and that they have nothing to offer. Then there are movies like The Incredibles, which move fast because they are having too much fun to hang around, and burst with enthusiasm and joy in every frame.

Zippy, bright, and endlessly inventive, The Incredibles carries on the winning streak of the animation geniuses at Pixar. Though it doesn’t have the heartstring-tugging depth of their best work like Finding Nemo or Toy Story 2, this sort of like saying Rubber Soul isn’t the best Beatles’ album. Its mere existence places it head-and-shoulders above most of the competition.

The movie is written and directed by Brad Bird, who made the criminally-underappreciated The Iron Giant. If you haven’t seen that masterpiece, stop reading and go watch it right now. I mean it. I’ll wait. In both movies, Bird shows not only an awe-struck appreciation for the un-ironic whiz-bang heroics in 50’s/60’s comic books and cartoons, but a colorful embrace of all the details of the period. Michael Giacchino, a relative newcomer to film scoring, provides a lively, horn-heavy retro soundtrack that is the most fun of this year.

And as for the visuals – take the island fortress where much of the center portion of the story is located. It looks like someone gave Ken Adam (legendary designer of all those master villain hideaways in the James Bond movies) a blank check and permission to finally fully-design the miles-sprawling volcanic lair of his wildest dreams.

From the yawning cavernous chambers where the villain Syndrome (Jason Lee) holds court, to the hip mod spherical monorail system, it’s an orgy for the eyes that shows Pixar’s artistic prowess still growing with every feature. The water, the grass, the leaves, the hair – it’s all beautiful. Some people use animation to make a buck off children. Others use it to realize fantasies that simply wouldn’t play in live-action, like a super-kid speeding so fast he’s literally gliding across the surface of water, dodging in and out of rocks while being chased by giant flying discs.

Dreaming and daring big is part of this movie’s ethos. It traces the descent of Mr. Incredible (Craig T. Nelson) and his new bride Elastigirl (Holly Hunter) into obscurity after a world which once was grateful for their protection drives them underground with resentment and lawsuits. Greatness is held up as an un-asked-for nuisance; it’s no wonder that the mild-mannered alter egos they adopt to blend in are named “Parr”.

And so 15 years after the government instigates the “Superhero Relocation Act”, “Bob Parr” and family are squirreled away in suburbia. The former Mr. Incredible sports a heavy gut and works for an insurance company that, while legally required to pay some claims, doesn’t exactly encourage it. Once a week he and his old superhero buddy Frozone (Samuel L. Jackson) each tell the missus they’re going out bowling, then hunker down with a police scanner to see if they can do some incognito good deeds.

The Parrs now have three kids: Violet (Sarah Vowell) who, unlike most adolescent girls who wish they could become invisible, actually can (not to mention make vibrant purple bubble shields); Dash (Spencer Fox), who like many boys can drive you crazy with his ability to be everywhere at once, only in his case it’s because he can run at hundreds of miles per hour; and Jak Jak, who as an infant has yet to reveal his super-abilities.

All are strongly discouraged from using their powers even at home. The risk of being revealed as different, even if that difference is extraordinary, is too dire. They must strive to blend in.

It all drives Mr. Incredible crazy. When you have super-strength and your son has super-speed, a game of catch can take on whole new dimensions, and he thinks that should be celebrated. While “Helen Parr” makes the best of the domestic life, he chafes: “These people just keep finding new ways to celebrate mediocrity!”

So when he gets a mysterious invitation from the sultry Mirage (Elizabeth Peña) to don his old duds, come to the aforementioned island, and take care of a little problem, it’s just the thing to put a little spring back in his step. Of course, he doesn’t know of Syndrome’s master plan, or just how he and Syndrome were linked in the past. But all in good time.

The Incredibles is a little more grown-up than past Pixar features. We’re warned almost immediately from the first frame, when after a brief intro we’re thrust right into the middle of a bullets-whizzing police chase. There’s nothing bloody or more than cartoonishly-violent about it, but as they’ve been around long enough to see children reared to adolescence on their movies, it’s clear Pixar enjoys the freedom to play to a more sophisticated demographic.

At the same time, a lot more sly jokes play to the grown-ups. Kids likely won’t understand why Mrs. Incredible has such a big smile on her face and keeps pulling Mr. Incredible back inside the house once he re-discovers his superhero mojo, nor will they laugh with the grown-ups when Mrs. Incredible, in the midst of some derring-do, stops by a mirror to reflect disappointedly on figure that, while holding up admirably, has undeniably produced three children.

But the kids certainly will never be bored, as barely a few minutes ever go by without a chase, an explosion, a giant robot attack, or someone being chucked through a wall or two or eight. Bird, who also voices the superheroes’ indescribable costume designer Edna Mode, keeps nudging us, a smile on his face, towards the next surprise, the next bit of action ingenuity. By the time a world-threatening crisis really has the Incredibles gelled and going into battle as a unit, that he simply finds something for each of them to do is impressive. But what makes The Incredibles such surpassing entertainment is that what they do works in such constantly evolving harmony, just like a good nuclear family should.