The beauty of Buzz Lightyear is that, beneath the superficiality of the initial premise he's an utterly delusional toy who thinks he's a real Space Ranger there's real emotional depth and endless capacity for reinvention. Witness Toy Story 3's neat reprogramming gag, wherein Buzz becomes a flamenco-flecked Spanish-language toy, complete with an eye for the ladies and neat dance moves. But we love Buzz for so much more than that. We love him because of his bluster. We love him because of his never-say-die spirit. We love him because he's a leader of plastic men. We love him because he's faintly ridiculous. We love him because Tim Allen's macho voice work is so perfect that it almost removes the universe's need for William Shatner to exist. We love him because he has a little light that blinks. We love him because he. Is. A. Toy. And sometimes that's all you need.
The chief failing of the Shrek series is that the title character has always been a little bland, and always a lot overshadowed by the more colourful supporting cast. But who cares when, as in the case of Puss In Boots, they're this entertaining? A glorious reimagining of the swashbuckling charm of Zorro, transplanting his derring-do spirit and Latino swagger into the body of a cat just about higher than the boots he wears, Puss In Boots gave Shrek 2 a welcome shot in the arm just as Shrek and Donkey's banter was beginning to wear thin. Voiced to perfection by Banderas, it's Puss' loyalty, his indomitability in the face of overwhelming odds, his supreme self-confidence, and his ability to make his eyes as big as Lazy Susans, that make him more than worthy of his own spin-off. The only mercy we'll be praying for is from laughter.
If you're not quite sure why everyone's looking forward to Brad Bird's take on Mission: Impossible IV, check out this beautiful and moving adaptation of Ted Hughes' already-powerful children's book. Bird's film may have sunk without a trace at the box office, but it's one of the great animated films, a tale of friendship, tolerance and fear for the ages. The Iron Giant himself, voiced with surprisingly delicacy by Vin Diesel, manages to be by turns mysterious, childlike, warlike and heroic. His final decision to emulate his comic-book hero, Superman, will break your heart.
roof, if proof were needed, that strong silent types are infinitely preferable to their chattier counterparts, Wall-E is an almost-mute waste-shifting robot who is easily the most adorable automaton ever created. With R2D2 genius Ben Burtt giving him a voice comprised chiefly of exclamations, hums and snippets of the Hello Dolly soundtrack. Combined with Pixar's genius for creating character with the twitch of an eye-shade, and you have someone who won audience hearts in about ten seconds flat, despite being rusty and rickety and probably smelling of trash. No mean feat for a guy who hangs out with a cockroach.
How could we separate Woody and Buzz, you ask? Well, because Woody just edges his spacey BFF in the character stakes, springing fully-formed from the screen as a living, breathing, er, child's plaything. He always tries to do the right thing, but it's not always easy for him, and Pixar's genius lies in showing that even such a Dudley Do-Righter sometimes wishes he could take the easier road. Still, his intense loyalty to his friends, palpable humanity and the deeply emotional character arc he's given put Woody head and shoulders above the rest.
Gromit doesn't ever say a word, but there has never been a more expressive character (animated or otherwise) to grace our screens. The long-suffering companion to inventor Wallace, Gromit is a mechanical genius in his own right, a vegetable-grower par excellence and an unfailing example of British pluck and can-do spirit. He also boasts a flair for deadpan that Buster Keaton would be proud of and the ability to let us know exactly what he's thinking with no more than the twitch of an ear. With the fingerprints of genius animators all over him (literally), Gromit is an example to us all.
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