I don’t like numerical ratings. I don’t like grades or ranked lists, either. This is because I feel that complex opinions can’t accurately be boiled down to a simple number and I’m not comfortable with the idea of enjoyment as a thing that can be quantified. But in the case of Toy Story 3, I’m making an exception. I’m giving this movie 10/10, five stars, an A+ or whatever you prefer. It’s an exemplary movie by any standard.

Just take the opening scene, for example. Imagine that you have a box full of all the toys from the Toy Story movies. If you had given this box to a five-year-old boy who somehow had no prior knowledge of the movies, it would look exactly like the opening scene of Toy Story 3. It is such a beautiful mash-up of color, energy and nostalgia that the opening scene could have stood on its own as a short film. Except that unlike the opening of Up — which was more or less a short film itself, with a distinct beginning, middle and end — the opening of Toy Story 3 effectively segues into the rest of the movie. Thus, instead of being divided into two separate movies (as I felt Up was), the entire movie feels like a single and unified whole.

Next, we get a montage of Andy growing up. This is where I became grateful that I didn’t go back and rewatch the previous movies before seeing this one. During this segment, I actually started to feel like I had visited Andy’s house and sat down to watch some of his family’s old home movies. It felt like I was seeing an old friend and catching up with him for the first time in so many years. Again, it’s a wonderful feeling of nostalgia. It also helps that Pixar didn’t make Andy grow up into some stereotype. He’s not a jock or a geek or a goth, but a normal, down-to-earth and relatable guy going through a tough change in his life. And he’s not the only one.

Change is a theme that runs constant in this movie. All of the toys — most especially the ever-loyal Woody — are forced with the choice of either holding onto what they have as it slowly deteriorates or taking a risk and moving on to something else. Mortality is another theme. It was touched on in Toy Story 2, but it takes front and center this time around. There is, in fact, a character who’s completely succumbed to nihilism upon the realization that they are indeed pieces of plastic that were made to be mass-produced and disposable. This is just one of many subplots, themes and running jokes established in the last two movies that get wonderful capstones here. It gives the impression that Pixar intended to make a trilogy all along, and I can give no higher praise than that to any sequel.

I sat through the entire movie in awe of the animation. I know it seems like a petty thing to be taken for granted in this movie, but I loved how the toys in this film moved like toys! For example, there was a particular scene where Woody uses a toilet lever as a stepping stone, but the toilet doesn’t flush. “Of course it doesn’t,” I thought. “He can’t weigh more than a few ounces!” Woody also runs and jumps in a strange way, as if he doesn’t have any limbs. As well he should, since he doesn’t. On a similar note, Barbie and Ken (who deserve their own spin-off movie, by the way) tended to have more rigid movements that I found very satisfying.

As to the 3D, I’ve got three words: Day and Night. The opening short preceding Toy Story 3 is an example of exactly what can be done when 3D is used as a vital storytelling mechanic instead of a neat gimmick. I would not ever want to see this short in 2D, the third dimension was that vital to the presentation. As for the 3D in Toy Story 3, I’d put it on par with Up. Make of that what you will, but I’d still recommend paying that extra bit to see the opening short in 3D. Trust me, it’s worth it.

The screenplay and direction are both phenomenal. This film has the pacing and constant forward motion of a bullet train. Every scene is vital and there’s scarcely a line or action wasted. The set-ups are masterfully used in their varying degrees of subtlety and the pay-offs are always satisfying. There are also quite a few scary moments to be found here. In fact, there was a point during the climax when I thought that I must have somehow fallen asleep and started having a nightmare. But these seemingly insurmountable odds are always overcome in some brilliant and clever way. In fact, I’d say that “clever” is a good word to describe the entire movie.

There are a few plot holes and clunky jokes, but these are nitpicks barely worth mentioning. If the kids in my audience hadn’t constantly been asking questions, I wouldn’t have noticed them myself. There’s nothing in here to break suspension of disbelief, but then again, we’re dealing with a movie in which toys are alive.

Special attention must be given to the ending. Anyone who doesn’t get the slightest bit choked up by that ending… well, there’s no point in telling them to go to hell, because they don’t have any souls. Sure, Pixar could make a fourth Toy Story movie with this ending, but why would they want to? At best, we’d be seeing them on adventures less than or identical to the ones already taken and at worst, we’d be following them on that inevitable trip to the furnace. This franchise ended exactly the way it had to: With our main characters intact, together and with someone to love them.

Of all the wonderful accomplishments made by Pixar, this movie firmly establishes the Toy Story trilogy as their crown jewel. The third movie alone is of a quality that studios the world over (*coughDreamworkscough*) would go bankrupt to achieve. This film is a masterpiece and the trilogy will be children’s classics for decades to come. I raise my glass to Pixar. I drink to Andy and all his wonderful toys. Happy trails always to Woody, Buzz, Rex, Hamm, Jessie and all the rest, as well as the voice actors, writers and animators who gave them life.