Listen.
We watched The Brave Little Toaster last night.
And I am just not really certain how that movie was ever able to be marketed as a film geared toward children. Granted, one of the latent charms of animated media is that it can appeal to adults on subtle levels that children have not been corrupted enough to pick up on. But… The Brave Little Toaster… I’m not really sure how a decent parent can watch this and decide that it is okay for their children to see. Granted, my parents would just put it on for me to occupy me and then they would leave the room. And people wonder why I have a fascination for dismembering prostitutes, making suicide jokes, and faking seizures in elevators. It is clearly because of this film.
The film is heavily coated with severe traces of psychological issues - primarily abandonment, mortality, and corruption. The saccharine language stays relatively on a surface level by the androgynous, lesbian toaster who talks and acts like she just finished giving her dog a sensible walk through Park Slope after downing an Ambien with her Activia. The vacuum? Angry black man whose aura suspiciously reflects that of an individual who will hold up a convenience store because he has run out of life options and feels like the world owes him something.
The lamp… closet case. Looking to out someone the second he can to justify his own twisted unacceptance of himself. Talks too much. Becomes disturbingly jealous of the toaster’s growing affection of the blanket. Wobbling eyes indicate heavy horse tranquilizer use. When he gets electrocuted and his bulb breaks, I would have been a lot more comfortable if he had just died right then.
But I think more disturbing than any of them… the Blanket. His unhealthy obsession with his “master” verges on that of an individual who dwells in the maximum security basement levels of a psychiatric ward located safely away from society. He carries the picture around yearning after the day he can wrap the entirety of his body around the small child once again. His issues of abandonment and being unable to let go are so deeply etched into his psyche that as they all get pulled down into the swamp and are faced with their final moments, the blanket utters in a haunting voice: “I’m not scared.” Suicidal, much?
We will not even get into the junkyard scene. I just don't have the strength right now.
Either way, if children can be blind to the sorts of mind-warping imagery and overpowering themes of hopelessness, death, and destruction, then I suppose it can stand by itself as a children's classic. But take it from me... it is more disturbing for adults than for children. By far. Do NOT do any drugs before watching this movie... you will end up curled up crying in your bed like the last time you decided to smoke a blunt and then watch "Requiem for a Dream" because you didn't realize at the time that doing so would be a very bad life choice.
And I will probably never be watching that again until the next time I am jonesing for a leap out of a 30th story window. So stand by, better yet.
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