The weightier questions of life (and the wisdom of Pixar)

I don't know if it's more of a comment on my own state of mind or on the state of Hollywood, but the only films that stand a good chance of bringing me to tears these days are from Pixar.  Toy Story 3 is a marvelous film, with some soul-searching dimensions.  As John Anderson observes:

These toys have no life expectancy and no heavenly expectations. For them ultimate happiness means having a child to love and amuse. Being put in a bag in the attic for an indefinite period of inactivity/disconnection apparently holds no terror for the toys. But it does for us. What would eternity be like for a conscious being with no hope of a hereafter, no purpose, no contact? Is there anything more terrifying? What the toys represent is not something human or subhuman, but superhuman: beings for whom the only salvation is an existence rooted in charity itself, without other reward, without freedom through death. Children won’t get it. But it’s hard to imagine adults who won’t.

And don't get me started about "Up" . . .