Okay, settle in, grab your preferred retro snack (maybe some Dunkaroos if you can find 'em?), and let's rewind the tape back to 1998. Picture this: the toy aisles were battlegrounds of plastic heroes and villains, and a certain director known for unleashing lovable monsters on suburbia decided to take that concept quite literally. The result? Small Soldiers, a film that stormed onto screens promising action figure mayhem and delivering something… well, a bit more explosive than perhaps anyone expected. It wasn't quite Toy Story, was it? This was playtime with attitude, and maybe a few singed eyebrows.
### Greetings from the Commando Elite!
At its heart, Small Soldiers taps into that universal kid fantasy: what if toys came alive? But director Joe Dante, the mischievous mind behind Gremlins (1984) and Innerspace (1987), wasn't interested in gentle tea parties. Oh no. He took a script co-written by a team including Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio (who would later give us Pirates of the Caribbean) and injected it with his signature blend of chaos, satire, and surprisingly sharp edges. The premise is simple yet brilliant: defense contractor Globotech (a wonderfully generic evil corporation name) acquires a toy company and decides to implant its cutting-edge "X-1000" military AI chips into two lines of action figures – the gung-ho Commando Elite and the peaceful, monster-like Gorgonites. The goal? Toys that actually play back. What could possibly go wrong?
Enter Alan Abernathy (Gregory Smith), a teenage troublemaker trying to stay clean in a sleepy Ohio town, who gets his hands on a set of these new figures just before the recall notice goes out. He soon finds himself, along with his neighbor and crush Christy Fimple (Kirsten Dunst, already showing her star power), caught in the middle of a very real, very destructive war being waged by walking, talking plastic. Leading the charge is the stoic, square-jawed Major Chip Hazard, voiced with gravelly perfection by Tommy Lee Jones. Opposing him are the gentle, misunderstood Gorgonites, led by the philosophical Archer, given surprising depth by the resonant voice of Frank Langella.
### Dante's Delightful Mayhem
What makes Small Soldiers endure beyond its initial premise is Dante's masterful handling of tone. He leans into the absurdity, staging elaborate action sequences with tiny plastic soldiers wielding improvised weapons made from household objects – think nail guns, lawnmower blades, and flaming tennis balls. It’s often hilarious, tapping into that destructive glee kids sometimes have with their toys. Yet, underneath the surface, there's a surprisingly sharp critique of militarism and corporate greed. The Commandos aren't just toys; they're programmed with aggressive military doctrine, spouting jingoistic slogans while causing serious collateral damage.
The film walks a fascinating tightrope. It was marketed with toy tie-ins (famously leading to some controversy with Burger King over its appropriateness for young kids, given the film’s PG-13 rating and intense sequences), but the movie itself feels more like a sly commentary on aggressive marketing and the casual violence embedded in boys' toys. Dante never shies away from showing the genuine fear and danger the human characters face. This wasn't just cute plastic figures bickering; it was miniature warfare erupting in cozy suburbia.
### Retro Fun Facts: Bringing Plastic to Life
The magic behind the mayhem deserves a spotlight. This was late 90s filmmaking, a fascinating cusp between practical effects wizardry and burgeoning CGI. The legendary Stan Winston Studio (the geniuses behind Terminator 2 and Jurassic Park) were heavily involved, creating incredible animatronic puppets for the main characters. You can feel the physicality of the Commandos and Gorgonites in a way that pure CGI sometimes lacks. Apparently, operating the complex Archer puppet required multiple technicians, showcasing the dedication to practical craft. CGI was used, particularly for scenes with larger numbers of soldiers or more complex actions, but the blend is remarkably effective for its time.
The voice casting was also inspired. Getting Tommy Lee Jones as the unflinching Major Hazard was a stroke of genius, but surrounding him with actual veterans of screen warfare – Ernest Borgnine, Jim Brown, and George Kennedy, all stars of The Dirty Dozen (1967) – added a layer of authentic grit to the Commando Elite. Contrasting this, the Gorgonites featured voices from the mockumentary band Spinal Tap (Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, Harry Shearer), further emphasizing their "outsider" status. A little tidbit: the film reportedly cost around $40 million to make and pulled in about $71 million worldwide – a respectable sum, but perhaps not the blockbuster numbers needed to launch the planned franchise, leaving it as a somewhat unique standalone piece.
### More Than Just a Toy Story
Watching Small Soldiers today feels like unearthing a slightly dangerous artifact from the late 90s toy chest. It’s loud, chaotic, and maybe a little rough around the edges tonally, but it’s undeniably fun. Gregory Smith and Kirsten Dunst are likeable leads navigating the escalating madness, and the late, great Phil Hartman delivers a typically hilarious performance as Christy’s tech-obsessed dad (one of his final roles, adding a layer of bittersweet nostalgia). The practical effects hold up remarkably well, reminding us of an era where tangible creations battled on screen.
Did it change cinema? Probably not. Was it overshadowed by the cleaner, more family-friendly Toy Story franchise? Absolutely. But Small Soldiers offers something different: a gleefully anarchic, slightly subversive romp that uses action figures to poke fun at bigger targets. It captured that late-90s vibe where things felt like they were getting a little edgier, even in mainstream entertainment. You might even remember seeing the Commandos and Gorgonites staring menacingly from the shelves of Toys "R" Us, hinting at the miniature mayhem within that VHS box.
VHS Heaven Rating: 7/10
Small Soldiers earns a solid 7 for its sheer B-movie energy delivered with A-list effects and Joe Dante's unmistakable directorial flair. The blend of puppetry and CGI is impressive for its time, the voice cast is superb, and the action sequences are genuinely inventive and entertaining. While the tone occasionally wobbles between kid-friendly adventure and darker satire, its chaotic charm and underlying wit make it a standout piece of late-90s nostalgia that dared to suggest playtime could get seriously out of hand.