Movies/narrative

Journal ofMarketingManagement, 2013 Vol. 29,Nos. 1–2, 26–47, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/0267257X.2013.769020

Anthropomorphism, marketing relationships, and consumption worth in theToyStory trilogy1

ClintonD.Lanier Jr., University of St. Thomas,Minnesota,USA C.ScottRader,WesternCarolinaUniversity,NorthCarolina,USA AubreyR.Fowler III,ValdostaStateUniversity, Georgia,USA

Abstract Who doesn’t love a toy? Toys become our friends, our inspirations, and our creations. What is interesting about these significant relationships is that they are formed with rather ordinary commercial products. While this may seem natural enough, Pixar’s Toy Story trilogy provides us a glimpse into the other side of this relationship, that is, from the perspective of the toys. Through a highly sophisticated use of anthropomorphism, the films reveal that theserelationshipsare far fromone-sided, value-based, identity-laden,symbolic manifestations. Instead, they encompass a mutually constituting, evolving, defining, and ever-changing process, in which we become our objects as much as our objects becomeus. As a result, it is important to look beyond the relative valueof theseobjects in order to assess their overallworth.

Keywords anthropomorphism; toys; marketing relationships; consumption worth; to infinity andbeyond

Introduction

Have you ever had that feeling that, despite how well things seem on the surface, underneath it all, something is just not quite right, or at least not what it seems? (Yeah, you know what we’re talking ’bout!) Well, that happened to us, oddly enough, when viewing Pixar’s groundbreaking animated Toy Story trilogy. Like millions (dare we say, billions) of fans around the world, we fell in love with Woody and Buzz, felt the anguish of their trials and tribulations, and rejoiced in their ability to discern what really matters in life. What gives us that uneasy pause, though, is the fact that these valuable ‘life lessons’ are being conveyed in the films through commercial products. While research suggests that we can impart ‘sacred’ meanings to objects (Belk, Wallendorf, & Sherry, 1989), can objects really impart ‘sacred’ meaning to us?

While it could be argued that the Toy Story trilogy serves merely as a form of anthropomorphic allegory where commodities are simply a means of conveying a broader message (Asquith, 1997), this argument is increasingly problematic

1The movies Toy Story, Toy Story 2, and Toy Story 3 are © Disney/Pixar. ‘Toy Story’ is a registered trademark of Disney Enterprises, Inc.

©2013WestburnPublishersLtd.

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in a postmodern world in which reality is constantly contested (Brown, 1995). In addition, it completely undermines the fantastic nature of the stories (Tolkien, 1964). For example, it was not revealed at the end of the movies that the toys had come to life merely in Andy’s dream (the primary human character), which is a typical allegorical trope in fantastic literature (McDonald, 1890/2004). Nor were the stories set entirely in an anthropomorphic world (e.g. Pixar’s Cars) in which the products take on the roles of humans (another allegorical trope; Wiggen & Smith, 1911). Toy Story not only maintains the relationship between humans and toys, but suggests that it is this very relationship that gives life meaning. In fact, the theme song for the trilogy (‘You’ve Got a Friend in Me’, Newman, 1995) does not refer merely to the friendships among humans or toys, but ultimately to the friendships between humans and toys, which is the enduring focus of all three films.

The purpose of this paper is to explore these decidedly marketing-based relationships in light of the unique anthropomorphic nature of the Toy Story trilogy. Through a critical examination of the ‘vital materiality’ of the movies and their characters (Bennett, 2010), a radical and innovative understanding emerges of the profound and pervasive nature of contemporary life in which consumers and products form complex relationships that reciprocally constitute and define the participants. Far from being one-sided, in the Toy Story movies, the products also possess a life of their own, which consequently allows them to form relationships with consumers that must be continually negotiated and experienced not simply to allow consumers to produce meaning, but to help them discover what it means to exist. These relationships are based on a deeper ontological connection and corresponding set of responsibilities that consumers must learn from their possessions in order to live a fuller and more rewarding life.

TheToy (back)Story

The three Toy Story films, created and produced by Pixar animation studios (Paik, 2007), provide an ideal context from which to examine the interface of anthropomorphism, marketing, and consumption for three reasons. First, each of the movies prominently features anthropomorphised characters as the primary actors. Here, the objects being anthropomorphised – toys – are mass-produced commercial products, providing an appropriate venue for a marketing analysis. The main characters include Woody, a nostalgic cowboy doll, and Buzz Lightyear, an intergalactic action figure. While the two main characters are fictional toys, the movies also include a cadre of some well-known and popular non-fictional toys, including Mr Potato Head, Etch-a-Sketch, and Speak-n-Spell, all of which are also anthropomorphised. In addition, the films focus primarily on various types of marketing-based relationships among the anthropomorphised toys and different human characters (e.g. Andy, Sid, and Al). Finally, all of the movies deal specifically with issues arising from the consumption (i.e. acquisition, use, and disposal) of the anthropomorphised toys.

Second, all of the films clearly captivated the viewing public, as well as movie critics, upon their initial release and have continued to resonate with audiences at home and in theatres, as evidenced by re-releases and DVD sales (United Press International, 2010). The original Toy Story, released in 1995, grossed nearly $361 million worldwide, ranking it as the 125th top grossing movie of all time (Box

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Office Mojo, 2012). Toy Story 2, released in 1999, grossed $485 million worldwide, and Toy Story 3, released in 2010, grossed $1.06 billion worldwide, making it, remarkably, the tenth highest grossing movie of all time (Box Office Mojo, 2012). This popularity spawned a huge merchandising effort, including toys, clothes, games, and even theme-park attractions (Price, 2009). The enduring fascination with the movies and their characters suggests that they are tapping into something much deeper than simply hedonic enjoyment and are addressing consumers at the level of lived experience.

Third, the films all maintain a considerable cultural, critical, and even historical relevance. In 2005, the US Library of Congress added the original movie to its National Film Registry, claiming that Toy Story represents a pioneering breakthrough as the first full-length animated feature to be created entirely by artists using computer technology (Library of Congress, 2005). This echoes Mendlow (1995), who suggests that ‘like the creators of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs fifty-eight years before them, the makers of Toy Story . . . blazed a trail, introducing a brand new medium in animation’ (p. 128). Each of the subsequent movies continued to push the boundaries of computer animation, and the third was even nominated for a Best Picture Academy Award, only the third such animated film to have been so (Pixar Planet, 2011). Even with all of the cutting-edge technology, John Lasseter, the chief creative officer at both Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studies, insists that it is ultimately the stories that resonate with audiences and fans (Lasseter & Daly, 1995). Critics agree that what vaults the films, especially as animated movies, to the level of cultural icon is the sophistication of the stories coupled with their accessibility to multiple audiences (Klady, 1995; Stack, 1995).

Unpacking theToyStory trilogy: A critical analysis

Although we have watched these movies multiple times (and must admit that we own one or two action figures . . . or three or four or five), a deeper viewing of the films allowed us to see things that we clearly missed with a more casual approach. Indeed, while anthropomorphism served as the overall impetus for the research, our inductive analysis of the films revealed that this important concept cannot be understood in isolation, but must be examined within a complex and evolving network of humans, objects, and their interrelationships. To that end, we present our emergent themes as unfolding narratives that reveal the anthropomorphic insights of the films. Given space limitations, familiarity with the movies is assumed, though some contextual descriptions are provided to situate the readers in relation to particular storylines in the films.

‘PizzaPlanet’:Anthropomorphismredux

It seems safe to say that the Toy Story trilogy takes anthropomorphism to whole a new level. While the various individual anthropomorphic aspects of the films may not be unprecedented, their complex and interwoven structures provide a very unique view of consumers, objects, and their interactions. What we discovered in our analysis is that anthropomorphism operates simultaneously on multiple levels and from various perspectives, with the result being that the films actually call the very nature of anthropomorphism into question. Whereas most cultural manifestations conform

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to conventional anthropomorphism theories of the imposition of overtly human perspectives on the world (e.g. Guthrie, 1993), the films suggests that humans exist in a deeper relationship with the world that ultimately transcends this anthropocentric perspective and connects us to the rest of creation in such a way that only by overcoming this view can we live in harmony with the world.

At the most basic level, Pixar employs anthropomorphism in a rather traditional manner to bring ordinary children’s toys to life and situate them in an intricate world of their own (e.g. Winnie-the-Pooh; Milne, 1926). What is interesting, though, is that what is being anthropomorphised is not the actual object, but a digital representation of the object, making the characters a type of anthropomorphised simulacra that is ‘more real than real’ (Baudrillard, 1994). In fact, Woody and Buzz were never actual toys to begin with, but instead are fictional characters created strictly for the films. Even so, they quickly become the stars of the movies, dwarfing both the human characters and the ‘real’ toys (e.g. Mr Potato Head).

Pixar does not stop here, but situates the secret lives of toys within the world of humans. At this level, we have two very different worlds interacting while also remaining distinctly separate. In fact, we are informed that there are larger rules at play dictating the two worlds’ interaction and separation, suggesting something greater at work than mere anthropomorphism. Although this general type of human–anthropomorphised interaction is part of the literary genre (e.g. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland; Carroll, 1865/1986), the complexity of these types of relationships in the Toy Story trilogy goes far beyond any previous work. (Wonderland seems tame by comparison.) In this particular case, we encounter another type of anthropomorphism in which the human children in the films (e.g. Andy, Sid, and Bonnie) bring the toys to life through their imaginative world of pretend play. This imposed ‘fantasy’ life, though, remains different from the ‘real’ lives of the toys. However, the children’s imaginative play world can and does have a dramatic and even destructive impact on the lives of the toys. In an example of an even more complex anthropomorphic simulacra, we have anthropomorphised digital characters (i.e. human children) anthropomorphising (i.e. through play- acting) other anthropomorphised digital characters (i.e. toys), though without the knowledge that the toys have a real life of their own, which is based on the original anthropomorphisation. (We hope you’re keeping up!)

Equally important, in addition to the children anthropomorphising toys, we also encounter the reversal, whereby the toys anthropomorphise children. In multiple scenes, we see Andy pretending to be Woody and interacting with the other toys and non-human characters as if he is now part of that secret world, which he does not even know exists (e.g. dressed in his Woody hat, Andy tells Buster the dog to ‘reach for the sky’). In addition, we witness Andy constructing a spacesuit out of cardboard boxes, thus becoming Buzz Lightyear as he exclaims, ‘To infinity, and beyond!’ We witness similar ‘reversals’ with Emily (i.e. the owner of the Jessie the cowgirl doll) in Toy Story 2 and Bonnie (i.e. the daughter of the day care manager) in Toy Story 3. Each of these examples indicates that anthropomorphism is not simply a one-way street (e.g. Waytz, Cacioppo, & Epley, 2010) but has powerful influence over all involved.

Lastly, in a final ontological push of the anthropomorphism boundary, we encounter the anthropomorphic toys calling their own anthropomorphic nature into question. In Toy Story, the ‘real’ anthropomorphised Woody tells the ‘real’ anthropomorphised Buzz that he is not the ‘real’ non-anthropomorphised

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galaxy-romping Space Ranger (which is not real to begin with), but simply a child’s plaything, to which a defiant Buzz responds that Woody is ‘a sad, strange little man’ (though probably no stranger than that last sentence). Likewise, in Toy Story 2, Buzz must remind Woody that he is not a vintage collector’s item, but merely a toy. More scathingly, in Toy Story 3, Lotso the bear tells the other toys, ‘You think you’re special? You’re a piece of plastic. You were made to be thrown away’. Whereas Lotso acknowledges their specific nature to suggest that being non-human has no value independent of anthropomorphism, the other toys, in a notable departure from conventional anthropomorphism theory, argue that it is in fact their nature as non-human objects that makes them so special.

‘Strange things (arehappening tome)’: Thecomplexnatureofobjects

As the literature on material culture has made increasingly clear, objects exist in a complex network of sociocultural meanings (Appadurai, 1986; Douglas & Isherwood, 1979; Miller, 1987). What we discover in the films is that these same objects do not operate merely as instrumental means to human ends (functionally and/or symbolically), but exert powerful forces on these relationships both in concert with and in defiance of these meanings. The idea that life is simply anthropocentric manipulations of symbolic signs and meanings (Baudrillard, 1993) belies the much more fundamental relationships that underlie and create these meanings.

This is apparent in Toy Story 2 when Woody, who presumably only knew of Andy and his family’s world, confronts his cultural history as the main character in a popular 1950s children’s television program, ‘Woody’s Roundup’. Woody is dumbfounded to discover that he not only has a complex and well-developed backstory, but also a plethora of associated tie-in products, point-of-purchase displays, and even fans, all of which reveal his commercial nature. What makes Woody important, as another character from the television show, the Prospector (a.k.a. Stinky Pete, for reasons left unsaid) points out, is not simply the fact that Woody is a commercial medium for the transmission of cultural meanings (McCracken, 1986), but that he constitutes the collective consciousness of that bygone era. Hence, objects can move beyond anthropomorphism and take on a life of their own as they embody the broader sense of our relation to the world (Bennett, 2010). That is, these objects can become powerful agents that can act upon our imaginations and cultural creations. This is evident when the Prospector informs Woody that the series was cancelled because of the collective cultural shift away from interest in the mythos of the American West to that of outer space (setting the stage for Buzz Lightyear).

An even more important issue is revealed when, upon seeing Woody’s astonishment, the Prospector asks rhetorically, ‘You don’t know who you are?’ While researchers have focused on how we impose meanings on objects, especially those that are important to us (Belk et al., 1989; Curasi, Price, & Arnould, 2004; Grayson & Schulman, 2000), we tend to ignore the fact that objects exist as independent entities that are oblivious to the meanings that we impose upon them. Even those objects that we designate as special and sacred are often beyond our control. For example, while Andy anthropomorphises the toys to have specific traits and characteristics in his pretend play scenarios (e.g. Bo Peep is a helpless damsel in distress and Rex the dinosaur is a ferocious beast), these tend to be contrary to how the toys actually are (e.g. Bo Peep is very sexually assertive while Rex is

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quite timid). While we are not proposing that objects have objective meanings or actual selves (which are essentially human attributions anyway), what this form of anthropomorphism suggests is that there is often an incongruence between how we imagine or want an object to be and how it actually is. This may account for the frustration that we sometimes feel when objects do not fulfil the ends that we seek from them, not to mention the ways that the actual nature of the objects influence our own personal meanings and sense of self.

The anthropomorphism in the Toy Story films further reveals that not only do toys exist as independent ontological beings (though of a commodity nature), but that they are also unique and possess distinct ‘personalities’. In fact, like humans, no toy is perfect, and each comes with its own set of flaws. For example, while Woody is faithful and true, he also exhibits traits of jealousy and envy – especially when Buzz arrives and seemingly displaces Woody as Andy’s favourite toy. Buzz, while exhibiting traits of resourcefulness and loyalty, arrives in the first Toy Story movie as quite a delusional character. Other toys represent relatively benign personalities, such as Hamm, the practical piggy bank, and the cynical Mr Potato Head, while others are downright nasty, such as the manipulative and conniving prospector, Stinky Pete, and the sociopathic huggable bear, Lotso. With the exception of these two characters and some other unsavoury toys, which start out sweet and lovable but then turn exceedingly unpleasant, most of the other toys are loved in spite of their flaws. Joseph Campbell (1904–1987), noted scholar of world mythology, goes even further by arguing that it is actually the imperfections of character that we love (Campbell, 1988). Rather than raising the status of objects to some saintly position by imbuing them with special and sacred meaning (Belk et al., 1989), it may actually be the ordinary and profane nature of some objects that makes them attractive and endearing to us.

At the same time, objects do not exist in isolation, but in complex relations to other objects. For example, it is clear at the beginning of Toy Story that there is a hierarchical social structure among the toys, with Woody acting as the de facto leader (presumably because he is Andy’s favourite). Throughout the three movies, we witness various types of relationships among the anthropomorphised objects (e.g. authoritative, competitive, cooperative, informative, manipulative, and romantic), all of which exhibit dynamic tensions that shape the relationships. Usually, these interactions are precipitated by the arrival and departure of other toys, which dramatically changes both the ontological structure and epistemological nature of the toys. What we learn is that not only do objects have their own particular being, but also that their existence and meaning is directly affected by the presence (and absence) of other objects. In addition, the hierarchical structure is very fluid and tenuous (even among special possessions), as is evident by the immediate displacement of Woody by Buzz through the mere act of receiving a gift (Sherry, 1993). As a result, the relationships among objects ultimately affect both their status and significance (Epp & Price, 2010). As soon as Buzz is introduced into this particular world of toys, ‘strange things’ indeed start happening – namely to Woody’s sense of belonging.

What, then, is the nature or purpose of objects? Woody constantly reminds the other toys that their existence (and meaning) is not predicated on being played with (i.e. a functional or symbolic purpose; Richins, 1994), which corresponds with extant theory on anthropomorphism, but rather is based on ‘being there’ for Andy (i.e. an ontological purpose; Heidegger, 1927/1962). What the films suggest is that humans do not make sense of the world merely by attaching meaning to things, either

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cognitively or bodily (Belk, 1988; Firat & Venkatesh, 1995; Joy & Sherry, 2003), but by encountering, interacting with, and even creating things that exist independently from themselves (Blumer, 1969; Mead, 1934). In fact, the movies seem to discount the meanings or symbolism of objects as an overriding importance in this relationship (Firat & Venkatesh, 1995). For example, in Toy Story, when Buzz finally discovers that he is merely a toy, he laments his fate to Woody: ‘For the first time, I am thinking clearly. I’m not a Space Ranger. I’m just a toy – a stupid, little insignificant toy’. Woody responds, ‘Being a toy is a lot better than being a Space Ranger. Over in that house is a kid who thinks you’re the greatest. And it’s not because you’re a Space Ranger, pal. It’s because you are a toy. You are HIS toy!’ The visceral connection between Andy and his toys, like any child with his/her favourite things, transcends any imposed public or private meaning (Richins, 1994), which is always a once- removed act of signifying, and constitutes an unreflective act of pure being (a fact that seems to get lost by us adults who incessantly try to intellectualise the process). It is those moments of existential connection that give rise to, rather than being the result of, creative acts of meaning and joy. For instance, does Andy love his toys because of the pretend play scenarios, or do the pretend play scenarios arise from his love for the toys?

‘You’remyfavouritedeputy’:Human–object relationships

We are all born into a world of objects, both natural and human made, and objects continuously stream in and out of this world. This movement of objects, and its subsequent effect on human–object relationships, is one of the primary plot lines that runs throughout the Toy Story trilogy. While much attention in consumer research has focused on the rituals and practices for receiving, transforming, and disposing of objects (Belk et al., 1989; Lastovicka & Fernandez, 2005; Wallendorf & Arnould, 1991), some of which we witness in the movies (e.g. birthday parties, Christmas festivities, and charitable donations), far less research has examined the complex and intimate relationships that form between objects and humans during their time together – especially those relations that go beyond anthropocentric human identity practices or magical thinking (Epp & Price, 2010; Fernandez & Lastovicka, 2011). For example, in Toy Story, Buzz shows off Andy’s name on the bottom of his foot. He tells the other toys, ‘It looks as though I’ve been accepted into your culture. Your chief, Andy, inscribed his name on me’. Rex replies, ‘With permanent ink, too!’ This raises an interesting question: What happens when objects enter into a fully fledged and publicly acknowledged relationship with humans?

Similar to the research on product anthropomorphism (Chandler & Schwartz, 2010; Fernandez & Lastovicka, 2011; Landwehr, McGill, & Herrmann, 2011), the literature on human–object relationships contends that these relationships can generally be classified as either positive or negative depending on the degree of importance of the object to the consumer and the integration of the object into the consumer’s life (Belk, 1988; Curasi et al., 2004; Epp & Price, 2010). The Toy Story movies suggest, though, that these relationships are much more complex, and that objects can be as fully integrated into negative relationships as they can in positive relationships. For example, Andy represents more positive human–object relations in which he loves and cares for his toys, which are fully integrated into his world. But rather than being simple extensions of his self (e.g. does Andy really want to be one-eyed Bart the bank robber, a favourite character in his pretend play scenarios?)

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or repositories of romanticised family memories (e.g. does Andy really love Woody simply because he is an old family toy?), these relationships take on deeper expressions of what it means to exist by stimulating Andy’s imagination to consider the larger questions of life. Clearly, this form of imaginative anthropomorphism (Fisher, 1991) is much more intricate and acute than in extant interpretations of human–object relations. To be sure, moving beyond imagining that toys are simply ‘human-like’, Andy’s pretend play scenarios usually deal with fairly profound issues, such as the relationship between good and evil. In this case, good tends to triumph over evil (e.g. one-eyed Bart goes to jail), and all of the toys are reintegrated back into the whole dynamic relationship.

In contrast to Andy, Sid, the nefarious kid next door, represents more negative human–object relations in that the interactions usually lead to the destruction of the objects and consequently the relationships. At the same time, though, Sid is as equally committed and involved in the ‘relationships’ as Andy. Likewise, the human– object relationships also inspire Sid to use his imagination vividly to consider the deeper relationship between good and evil, but with the outcome being notably different from that in Andy’s pretend play scenarios. Sid’s considerable investment in these decidedly ‘short-term’ relationships is evident in the extent to which he has turned his bedroom into a virtual laboratory, equipped with a fully tooled workbench, in order to live out his own pretend play scenarios. He has even spent his hard- earned allowance on additional objects (e.g. fireworks) to gleefully destroy some of the doomed toys. In a twisted sense, while negative relationships can dictate the disposition (and even destruction) of objects (Belk et al., 1989; Chandler & Schwarz, 2010), they are clearly not an indicator of lack of involvement, investment, or imagination. This example suggests that human–object relations are much more layered and multifaceted than is captured in the current literature.

Another major insight that we gain from looking at these human–object relations is that rather than objects being simply or solely extensions of our individual or collective identity (Belk, 1988; Curasi et al., 2004; Epp & Price, 2010), humans are often extensions of their objects. For example, in Toy Story, Woody, angry at being displaced by Andy’s new toy, directly confronts Buzz: ‘Listen, light snack, you stay away from Andy. He’s mine, and no one is taking him away from me’. In this case, it seems that the object has taken possession of the human. The toys may ‘be there’ for Andy, but Andy is clearly there for them as well. That is, Andy is as much defined by the toys as the toys are by Andy. As mentioned above, this is apparent when Andy dresses up and pretends to be Woody and Buzz, and also in the pretend play scenarios when he enacts the imaginary characters of each of the toys. We see this as well in the grotesquely negative relationships and pretend play scenarios of Sid, in which he increasingly becomes a mutant extension of his experimental toys (notice his t-shirt next time you watch the movie). This is not to deny that humans have a powerful effect on their objects (Belk, 1988); rather, the films suggest that objects have an equal, active, and very real impact on humans, with the interactive process becoming mutually defining (Blumer, 1969).

Lastly, while both the relationship marketing and consumer–object literatures have extensively examined the creation, maintenance, and disposition of relationships, there is little exploration of what we call ‘anti-relationships’ (i.e. the need for or existence of no relationships). Recent literature on sharing examines the fluid notion of ownership and its effects on rights, responsibilities, and reciprocity (e.g. Belk, 2010), but it does not directly address the notion of no ownership or the

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lack of formal human–object relations. In Toy Story 3, we observe this situation when Andy’s toys are donated to Sunnyside Day Care and become ‘ownerless’ (i.e. they lack any formal relationship with the children who play with them). While Andy’s toys are initially excited about the prospect of severing ties with Andy, who no longer played with them, and being played with by all of the day care children, Woody warns them that there is a downside to this situation: ‘Just wait till you see what day care is like! . . . Day care is a sad, lonely place for washed- up old toys who have no owners . . . You’ll be begging to go home’. Woody has a fairly negative view of this form of ‘sharing’ and the lack of formal relationships. Lotso the bear, the dictator of the day care toy world, has a markedly different view. He tells the toys, ‘We don’t need owners at Sunnyside. We own ourselves. We’re masters of our own fate. We control our own destiny’. Despite the utopian and romantic notions of the lack of formal relationships, the first play session with the day care children reveals the harsh reality of the situation – the toys are completely abused and brutalised by children who have no vested interest in them. (A negative implication of sharing that often goes unaddressed.) In contrast to the experience of day care, Bonnie, the daughter of the day care manager, perceives an intimate relationship with her toys at home and treats them with love and respect. While this relationship may not technically be defined as ownership, Bonnie clearly perceives a very close relationship with the toys that includes specific roles and responsibilities.

‘To infinityandbeyond’:Thesignificanceofobjects

While it is common to bifurcate human–object relationships into positive and negative (Mick & Fournier, 1998), good and bad (Aaker, Fournier, & Brasel, 2004), and sacred and profane (Belk et al., 1989), there are other types of assessments that are more subtle in which these contrasts get so mixed up that it becomes increasingly difficult to understand their true impact and importance. Specifically, what we discover in the films is that the characters make both implicit and explicit distinctions between the value and worth of human–object relationships. This nuanced consideration of human–object relationships runs throughout the Toy Story trilogy, but it is especially pronounced in Toy Story 2, when we encounter Al, an avid toy collector and the proprietor of Al’s Toy Barn (the local ‘big box’ retail toy store). Whereas the toys embrace the concept of worth, Al epitomises the concept of value (Holbrook, 1994, 1999).

At the beginning of the movie, Andy accidentally rips Woody’s arm, which prompts his mother to put Woody on a shelf where he encounters another broken toy, Wheezy (a plastic penguin whose squeaker is broken). After Andy leaves for cowboy camp, his mother gathers toys for a yard sale and decides to dispose of the penguin. In his attempt to save Wheezy, Woody makes his way down to the yard sale and jumps into the box of discarded toys, which is labelled ‘25 cents’. The other toys, who are watching the rescue from the upstairs window of the house, comment: ‘Woody, you’re worth more than that’. Here, we see an overt (and in vivo) indication of a deeper assessment of human–object relationships; that is, some things have a worth that transcends their apparent value. (It is important to note that there are many indicators of worth throughout the movies, some of which will be discussed later in the paper, with this specific instance being chosen to build on the narrative of this particular theme.)

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On his way back to the house, Woody gets discovered by Al, who has apparently been searching for a Sheriff Woody doll for quite some time. Unlike the toys who just perceived Woody in terms of worth, Al views Woody in terms of value and begins to recite all of the things that make him a ‘valuable’ collector’s item (e.g. the original hand-painted face, the natural dyed blanket-stitched vest, and the poly- vinyl hand-stitched hat). Here, we see two major types of consumer value at play: extrinsic/self-oriented value (e.g. excellence) and intrinsic/self-oriented value (e.g. play and aesthetics) (Holbrook, 1999). Having struck collector’s gold, Al attempts to purchase Woody for a paltry sum, hoping to realise a handsome return on investment (i.e. the extrinsic/self-oriented value of efficiency), but gets thwarted by Andy’s mother who states that Woody is not for sale (i.e. he is beyond any type of valuation). Al, who is keenly steeped in a market-based logic (e.g. everything has value), offers $50 for Woody, and when this does not work, offers Andy’s mom his luxury watch. Seeing that the clueless mother does not understand the rules of the marketplace (i.e. value must be maximised), Al steals Woody and makes off with him in his vintage (and no doubt fetishised) car (Fernandez & Lastovicka, 2011), hence realising another type of value: intrinsic/other-oriented (i.e. justice and magic; Holbrook, 1999). The toys, who have been watching all of this, are horrified at what has happened, suggesting once again that they operate from a perspective that cannot be explained by the value paradigm. Ironically, Al arrives at his penthouse condo (i.e. extrinsic/other-oriented value: status and esteem; Holbrook, 1999) that displays a sign on the front door stating ‘No Children Allowed’, which incidentally puts the significance of Woody as a children’s toy in question.

Unlike the toys who view Woody and ultimately his relationship with Andy in terms of worth (i.e. an assessment that transcends one’s subjective ends), Al views Woody purely in terms of his value (i.e. an assessment based on one’s subjective ends). It is important to note that while the value literature distinguishes between self-oriented and other-oriented value, both are valued for the experience it produces in the subject (e.g. materialism or ecstasy; Holbrook, 1999). (For example, Al’s decision to sell his prized toy collection to a toy museum has both self- and other- oriented value characteristics.) Likewise, the literature uses the terms extrinsic and intrinsic to designate whether an object is a means to an end or an end in itself (Holbrook, 1999). Either way, the ultimate assessment of value boils down to what is achieved by the subject from the object of value (Holbrook, 1994). In contrast, the ultimate assessment of worth is an appreciation (or depreciation) of the nature and significance of something (e.g. person, object, or relationship) in and of itself, regardless of its subjective effect. While this is still an interactionist perspective (as are all assessments), it is one that attempts to appreciate something for its own sake, divorced from the personal utility it may provide. Whereas value theory may be adamant that something cannot have value in and of itself (Holbrook, 1999), that is precisely the nature of worth. That is, something can have worth even if it does not benefit someone in any way, shape, or form. In fact, the worth of something may even be a detriment to someone. The films suggest that these alternative perspectives (e.g. the toys worth assessments vs. Al’s value assessments) are not simply a matter of different types of value, but rather, fundamentally different approaches to understanding the world. The irony being that the human-based value perspective is purely anthropomorphic (i.e. things only have value to the extent that they are reduced to a human perspective), where the toy-based worth perspective is not.

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Although it may be easy to write Al off as the evil villain (and essentially champion worth over value), it is compelling to contrast how both Al and Andy treat Woody. Upon entering his condo, Al immediately arranges to have Woody repaired. This is quite different from Andy, who tosses broken Woody aside and happily heads off to cowboy camp. Likewise, Al possesses a glass case in which to display and protect Woody, whereas Andy throws Woody around with wanton disregard for the toy. Even Woody is a bit confused. Whereas he dreamt that Andy, the boy who seemingly loves him, throws him away after returning from cowboy camp, Al, a total stranger, has spared no expense to have him exquisitely cleaned and repaired. After a bit of trepidation, Woody is astonished at how well he has been restored. He exclaims, ‘Oh wow, would you look at me! It’s like I’m fresh out of the box’. So clearly, there is some value to value.

While Andy certainly sees worth in Woody (e.g. Woody’s dream happily does not come true and Andy ultimately fixes Woody’s arm himself, though somewhat crudely), the disparity in Woody’s treatment highlights the deeper metaphysical difference between value and worth. The ‘Cleaner’ who restores Woody for Al refers to the toy as ‘the specimen’, indicating a positivistic and impersonal approach to the object of value. When he is done, he declares, ‘He’s for display only’. Interestingly, both the Cleaner and Al do not view Woody based on his original purpose as a toy but as a collector’s item with a completely different purpose – one that serves human ends while denying the ends, and essentially the being, of the object. Although one could argue that this is simply the difference between use and exchange value (Richins, 1994) or a shift in the symbolic value of the object (Firat & Venkatesh, 1995), all of these types of value are still dictated by the logic of the market which leaves the market referent necessarily intact. (For example, the very concept of inalienable wealth (Curasi et al., 2004) only has meaning based on a market-based logic.) In this case, what has shifted is the focus on the worth of Woody as a visceral and immediate part of the life of a child versus the value of Woody as a constructed symbol of sociocultural meaning. Once again, what the films suggest is that while there are assessments that take place within the socioculturally derived market logic (e.g. exchange, use, and symbolic value), there are other types of assessments that seem to transcend this logic and operate from a completely different set of assumptions (i.e. worth). This is not to suggest that the two assessments do not overlap or interact (as is often the case), but simply that they represent different perspectives of the world. To explain further, let us return to the story.

Concurrent to Woody’s painstaking restoration, Andy’s other toys have trekked across town to rescue him and end up at Al’s Toy Barn. While searching the store for Woody, Buzz passes an aisle completely stocked with new Buzz Lightyears. As with Woody, Buzz is also forced to confront himself as a commodity. Andy’s particular and personal Buzz, which is defined in terms of worth (e.g. its significance as a singular being), is contrasted to the common and anonymous store Buzzes, which can only be defined in terms of value (e.g. inventory costs, future sales, and profit). Beset by this awesome level of commodification, all Buzz can utter is a soft, ‘Wow’. In a brilliant bit of cinematography, as Buzz walks down the aisle, he appears small and insignificant compared to the overwhelming size of the market-based logic of consumer society. (Don’t we all!) Going a step further, even Buzz is tempted by the soft glow of commercialism as he desires the new utility belt that now comes with the updated version of himself. Climbing up the merchandising display to retrieve the belt, he encounters a ‘commodity’ Buzz who questions him about being out of his

Lanier et al.Anthropomorphism, relationships, andworth 37

box and subdues him, suggesting that value (i.e. represented by the new and improved Buzz) is more powerful than worth (i.e. represented by Andy’s old Buzz). Andy’s toys later encounter the commodity Buzz, but they instinctively know that something isn’t quite right with him. This suggests that while value and worth may seem the same on the surface, they are quite different at their core.

Meanwhile, back in the condo, Woody finally learns the reason for his kidnapping: he is the final and most ‘valuable’ piece of the collection that is needed in order to sell it to a toy museum in Japan. Without him, the other toys (e.g. Jessie the cowgirl, Stinky Pete the prospector, and Bullseye the horse) are less valuable and will go into storage until the collection is complete. The other toys plead with Woody to stay and not go back to Andy. In one last pitch, the Prospector points out Woody’s tenuous position as a toy: ‘How long will it last, Woody? Do you really think that Andy is going to take you to college, or on his honeymoon? Andy’s growing up, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s your choice, Woody. You can go back, or you can stay with us and last forever. You’ll be adored by children for generations’. As Woody stares into the existential void of the condo’s air duct (his possible escape route), he decides to stay with the Roundup gang. Confronted by the metaphysical differences between value and worth, Woody chooses his value over his worth. Ultimately, a very important insight we gain is that while worth is more idiosyncratic and discrete (e.g. a favourite toy), it is also ephemeral, whereas value, while being more uniform and common (e.g. money), is also eternal. With his nightmare of being thrown in the trash fresh in his mind, Woody decides that it is better to be valuable and immortal than to be worthy and transitory.

Andy’s toys finally make it to the condo and attempt to rescue Woody. To their astonishment, Woody informs them that he has decided to stay. After explaining his market value (‘I’m a rare Sheriff Woody doll’), which the other toys have a hard time understanding, since they evaluate themselves in terms of worth instead of value, Buzz confronts Woody: ‘You’re not a collector’s item, you’re a child’s play thing. YOU ARE A TOY!’ To which Woody responds, ‘For how much longer? One more rip and Andy’s done with me’. Incredulous, Buzz reminds Woody of the importance of worth (via another in vivo indicator): ‘Somewhere in that pad of stuffing is a toy that taught me that life is only worth living if you’re being loved by a kid’. After Woody turns his back on the departing and dejected toys, he hears the movie theme song, ‘You’ve Got a Friend in Me’, being played on the TV and realises his ultimate worth. Deciding to return to Andy with the other toys, he confronts the value logic of Stinky Pete: ‘You’re right Prospector. I can’t stop Andy growing up, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world’. For Woody and the gang, while value may be powerful and eternal, it is a cold, loveless existence. (It is interesting how love does not show up in the value paradigm, and thank God for that!) It is worth, while personal and fleeting, which paradoxically transcends and gives life meaning.

From the balcony: A critical discussion

The Toy Story films clearly show just how intricate and perplexing the phenomenon of anthropomorphism actually is, especially as it relates to marketing and consumer behaviour. This complexity, however, allows anthropomorphism to be approached and researched in different ways and on various levels (e.g. Aggarwal & McGill, 2007; Brown, 2010; Fernandez & Lastovicka, 2011). Generally, most approaches

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focus on how this process allows humans to interpret and make better sense of their world (e.g. physically, intellectually, and emotionally) (Cosslett, 2006; Guthrie, 1993; Moore, 2008). While this is truly an important function of anthropomorphism, if we dig deeper, we discover that it also indicates something more fundamental about ourselves as humans and our relationship to the world. That is, not only does anthropomorphism reveal how we relate to the world, but also how the world relates to us.

Anthropomorphism is clearly a human phenomenon, which is inherent in its etymology (from the Greek anthropos, or human and morphe, or form). Essentially, it is the need, want, or desire to make everything human, or at the very least, to cast everything in human terms (Guthrie, 1993). While modern philosophy argues that there is no epistemological way for us to escape our human perspective, there is an implicit axiological anthropocentrism in this position, and one that underlies most concepts of value in marketing and consumer behaviour (e.g. McGraw, Tetlock, & Kristel, 2003; Thompson & Tian, 2008; Vargo & Lusch, 2004). Under this view, the world is not simply reduced to a human perspective; rather, it only has value in terms of the human perspective (Holbrook, 1999). While we agree with this statement philosophically, the problem seems to arise when this is translated to mean that the world is worthless independent of its benefit to us. As a result, there is no attempt to grasp the worth of the universe (and its myriad objects, including humans) beyond its uses and the meanings that we impose on it or to view it for its own sake. While some may simply slough this off as some modernistic or even positivistic attempt to establish some objective meaning (which is essentially impossible since meaning is inherently a subjective human creation), it only needs to be pointed out that modernism has often led to the exploitation of the natural world for its ‘valuable’ resources and not its protection based on its worth (not to mention the fact that most positivists think the whole discussion of value is meaningless to begin with; Ayer, 1952; Fisher, 1991; Hargrove, 1992).

What the anthropomorphism of the Toy Story movies specifically helps us to see is that consumer objects actually have a ‘life’ (i.e. being and existence) and possibly a worth all their own as they interact with and affect us in quite profound ways. Unfortunately, we typically do not discover this until those objects are lost, damaged, or disposed of, at which point it is usually too late. In addition, what the films suggest is that anthropomorphism is primarily not a means to understand the world but a way to control it (Epley, Watz, & Cacioppo, 2007). That is, anthropomorphism does not give objects agency, but rather seeks to limit the powerful agency that they already possess. While this may be done for positive or negative reasons (e.g. Andy vs. Sid), both approaches tend to run counter to, or are at least indifferent to, the actual nature of the toys. In addition, we tend to undervalue the effects that these non-human objects have on us. Existentially, this anthropomorphic desire for control over the objects of the world appears to stem from our anxiety regarding the overwhelming power of the universe (clearly a non-human force) to affect our lives (Guthrie, 1993; Kuznets, 1994; Moore, 2008).

We realise that talking about the worth of non-human objects is a difficult thing to do. Those of a more modernistic or positivistic persuasion may argue that worth is a subjective evaluation and is irrelevant to an objective and quantitative understanding of the universe (Crist, 1999; Kennedy, 1992). Likewise, those of a more relativistic persuasion may argue that objects only have meaning and value (and possibly worth) based on their role as sociocultural symbols, which, they argue,

Lanier et al.Anthropomorphism, relationships, andworth 39

supersedes the ontological being of the object (Firat & Venkatesh, 1995; Levy, 1959; McCracken, 1986). Interestingly, both sides seem to ignore, or at least deemphasise, the possibility that objects may actually have ‘lives’ of their own or that they exist in complex interactive webs with humans and other objects that mutually define these relationships. If the concept of value is restricted to explaining the human side of this equation, perhaps another concept, namely worth, is needed to explain the object side of this equation. At the same time, when we can view the worth of something other than ourselves (or from our exclusive human perspective), this may help us to understand our own worth and thus our very existence.

In the Toy Story movies, we encounter a secret world of toys that exists independently from, though in concert with, the world of humans. The world of toys is quite involved, with hierarchical relations, implicit rules, and diverse responsibilities (similar to the non-human animal kingdom or the botanical world) irrespective of our existence. We also discover that the toys themselves are multifaceted. Although these aspects of the toys are couched in purely human anthropomorphic terms, if we read deeper into the movies, we see that each of the toys has multiple characteristics or properties that sometimes complement and other times contradict each other. The complexity of toy ‘personalities’ suggests that the simplified notion of positive or negative anthropomorphism (e.g. Aggarwal & McGill, 2007) may not fully capture the nature and ultimately the worth of objects. It is not that positively anthropomorphised toys have worth and negative ones do not. Worth is not a zero-sum game. Rather, it is the interrelation of these different traits that underlies the particular type of worth possessed by the toy.

To grant objects an independent status and worth does not deny the complex relationship that exists between them and humans. Unless you believe in the strongest form of solipsism where you exist as a disembodied mind and everything you encounter is a figment of your imagination, then you must admit that, from the moment of our biological conception, we are intimately and continuously in contact with other objects (human and non-human). In fact, these relationships are the norm, and any attempt to escape from or devalue them devalues us in return. As a result, we exist in a profound symbiotic relationship with the various objects of the world. These relationships determine both the worth (and value) of objects and the worth (and value) of humans. That is, by attributing worth to an object, we attribute worth to ourselves. Likewise, by denying the worth of an object, we deny the worth of ourselves (Sutton-Smith, 1986). Once again, Campbell (1988) profoundly addresses this relationship through an old pygmy myth in which a little boy finds a beautiful songbird in the forest and brings it home. The father, who does not want to care for the bird, kills the bird and consequently its song, and, in the process, kills himself. (The moral of the story being that while the father saw no value of any kind in the bird, he should have at least recognised its worth.) Although we like to think of ourselves as above the world and in control of its objects (e.g. physically, functionally, or symbolically), our very existence is dependent upon our relationship with these very objects. As Andy tells Bonnie at the end of Toy Story 3, our ultimate responsibility is to ‘take care’ of our toys, a lesson in the worth of stewardship that we can apply to the broader world (Moore, 2008).

The Toy Story movies directly address the different relationships between humans (e.g. Andy, Sid, and Al) and toys, and how these relationships affect the worth (and value) of all involved. For instance, Andy, who is a relatively happy child, sees both worth in himself and his toys. Sid, who is a very angry child, sees little worth in

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the toys and himself. Lastly, Al, who has internalised the value logic of the market, views both his life and his toys strictly in terms of value and does not even consider their deeper worth. One could argue that the relationship with the toys is simply a post hoc manifestation of the personality of each of the humans, but this would suggest that humans can somehow exist and develop independently of objects, which as we discussed, is impossible. While clearly there are other forces that influence these relationships, the visceral and intimate connection cannot be denied. As Andy makes clear at the end of Toy Story 3, how we treat our toys (or any objects) both defines who we are and gives our life meaning.

If we cannot deny the existence and impact of concrete human–object relationships, then one interesting question that we might ask is what effects do these relationships have on us when consumer society is increasingly placing us in value-based relationships? Are we more like Al and Sid than we think? If we are our objects as much as our objects are us, then it is not a far stretch to say that we now view ourselves primarily in terms of the various forms of marketplace value. In fact, research has confirmed how important it is for us to produce, market, and consume both our individual selves and collective groups (Belk, 1988; Reed, 2005; Thompson & Tian, 2008). (Think of Al in that ridiculous chicken suit hawking his goods.) Worse yet, in a ‘deep discount’ society (at least in the United States), it seems that we now view ourselves and others (including our individual and collective identities) as cheap, exchangeable, and disposable products, which some seem to justify as a form of liberating postmodern fragmentation (Firat & Venakesh, 1995; Goulding, Shankar, & Elliot, 2002). Given this state of affairs, the commoditisation of our most intimate affairs via commercial media (Turkle, 1995) and the increase in human trafficking in the global marketplace (Pennington, Ball, Hampton, & Soulakova, 2009) should not surprise us. It seems that humans no longer have any worth but are simply viewed in terms of their market-based value (be it symbolic, use, or exchange).

Finally, not only does anthropomorphism reveal how we relate to ourselves and the world, but also how we relate to our own mortality. Despite this effort to cast the world in human terms in an attempt to control the impact of non-human forces on our lives (Kuznets, 1994), we all know that these forces will ultimately overwhelm us and lead to our deaths. As a result, we can use anthropomorphism either to reject our worth (and its deeper connection with this fate) and assert our enduring value (e.g. Lotso tells the toys that they are just a piece of plastic waiting to be thrown away and their only option is to seek refuge in the tightly controlled day care) or to reject our value and accept our worth as a condition of life (e.g. Woody tells Buzz that he doesn’t know how long their relationship with Andy will last, but they’ll be together and enjoy it till the end). Either way, there seems to be an important tension between value and worth that is revealed, though not reconciled, by the focus on anthropomorphism.

Addressing this theme, an overriding narrative of the Toy Story films is on what happens when the relationship between humans and toys comes to an end – conveyed primarily from the perspective of the toys. This focus is so pervasive that the fear and anxiety associated with this potentially ‘deadly’ end pervades the movies. The first movie confronts the issue of new toys and how this change in the broader contextual environment affects the relationship status of the old toys. During the movie, Woody learns that worth, unlike value, cannot be manipulated for one’s own end. The second movie addresses the issue of what happens to the human–object relationship when a toy gets broken. Woody discovers that whereas worth is ephemeral (i.e. all

Lanier et al.Anthropomorphism, relationships, andworth 41

meaningful relationships come to an end and cannot be replicated), value is eternal (i.e. it transcends any singular relationship and is based on set criteria). But as Buzz points out, the price of defining oneself in terms of value is that you cut yourself off from the very sources that make life worth living. The third movie examines what happens when a child outgrows his toys. The toys discover that living a life based simply on value can have dramatically negative consequences (i.e. the anti- relationships of day care), and they attempt to reassert their own worth. What they realise is that the cost of worth is the acceptance of their own destruction, which they face heroically when being nearly incinerated.

Closing credits and outtakes

One of the enduring contributions of the Toy Story trilogy is that the films have given us a glimpse into the world of human–object relations from the perspective of the object. More importantly, or at least more appropriately given the focus on this special edition, they have provided us a view of consumer society from the perspective of the commodity through the sophisticated use of anthropomorphism. By giving those commodities human features with real emotions and showing that they have a life beyond their interaction with humans, these movies reveal certain insights both about the nature of objects and ourselves as producers, consumers, and ultimately humans.

In terms of objects, what we learn from the anthropomorphism of the films is that products have a ‘life’ of their own, which is often quite different from the one that we ascribe to them as consumers. (Just imagine what those pesky things must be saying about us behind our backs!) In addition, they often have complex ‘personalities’, with different situations bringing out certain traits over others. At the same time, no product is perfect (even within the same product line, as online reviews attest to), and they all have flaws that make them both endearing and annoying, though some clearly capture our hearts more than others. Ultimately, the ‘secret’ life of products has a dramatic effect on how we interact with these products, with others, and with the world. Is it not surprising that Apple (a company that did not invent the computer, portable music player, or telephone) has been so successful due to its keen awareness of the impact of product design and style on the human–object interface? The influence of these products on their consumers has clearly created a connection that transcends traditional notions of satisfaction, loyalty, or relationship marketing (Belk & Tumbat, 2005). As with Andy, the impact of the toys on his life goes way beyond conscious awareness or preference judgements.

As consumers form relationships with products, these relationships are not simply unilateral, but are extremely bilateral and mutually defining. As products get more and more integrated into fabrics of our lives (many of which indeed have been given their own distinct personalisation and names), it becomes increasingly difficult to think of our lives without them. In addition, these relationships can be as stormy (and seedy) as any human relationship. (Why do we always get trapped in bad relationships?) The films clearly indicate that consumers’ level of involvement, commitment, and responsibility is not driven simply by whether the relationship is positive or negative, but by the extent to which they are embedded in the relationship. Andy and Sid are both fully invested in their respective relationships with their toys, which in turn stimulates their imaginations, creativity, and ultimate assessment of

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these relationships. This assessment in turn begins to reflect how each of the children sees themselves.

Among market-based relationships, these product assessments have been made almost exclusively in terms of the value paradigm. In fact, the concept of value in both marketing and consumer behaviour has become a virtual black hole with nothing escaping from its dominant hegemonic gravitational pull. (Indeed, we are still not sure if we have broken free of this vortex or if we will be drawn back and crushed into its infinite singularity!) What the films suggest is that there may be an alternative paradigm (in an alternate universe, far, far, away . . . and getting farther all the time), one that we have labelled worth (e.g. Picard, 1922), which captures aspects of these relationships that possibly fall outside the value paradigm.

Unlike value, worth attempts to look beyond the anthropomorphic, subjective, and distinctly human assessment in order to experience ‘the other’ in and of itself, regardless of its effect on us. Ultimately, it attempts to explain the unexplainable, describe the indescribable, and capture the uncapturable. (Whew! Well, that gets us off the hook! Just kidding.) It surely is not confined to or constrained by some all- pervasive framework, typology, or matrix. As others suggest (Brown, 1999; Freud, 1913; Kant, 1790/1987; Nietzsche, 1968), there must be a type of assessment that captures the sublime, numinous, unconscious, and ineffable without falling back into some predefined notion of spirituality. In fact, what we are suggesting (or at least what the movies seem to indicate) is not a connection with some greater truth, meaning, or ecstatic experience, but simply with the chance to step beyond the strictly human perspective and consider something other than ourselves. Worth, using somewhat existential language, attempts to tap into the larger concept of Being and understand the role of something in regards to its place in the network of beings (Heidegger, 1927/1962). In other words, worth constitutes the degree to which something contributes to or detracts from the being of others (Sartre, 1943/1956). As Woody reminds the other toys, their purpose is to ‘be there’ for Andy. At the same time, Andy has a responsibility to ‘care’ for the toys (Heidegger, 1927/1962). Harking back to our original query, for us humans, worth helps us to understand what really matters in life. While value might explain preferential judgements, it cannot explain why we ultimately care for something (in a deeper ontological sense) or if we should even care. Worth attempts to address these more profound issues.

Increasingly, though, in a consumer society in which we are focused exclusively and endlessly on satisfying our subjective needs, wants, and desires (Belk, Ger, & Askegaard, 2003), we fail to focus on anything that does not have significance for us or which suggests that we are not the centre of the universe (physically or spiritually). This has led us essentially to deny our own worth and the worth of others, and embrace the value of the marketplace. In fact, rather than trying to break free of the value paradigm and reassert our own being, we have learned to commodify ourselves by developing and manipulating a manufactured identity. This human ‘value proposition’ can now be marketed and transmitted worldwide (especially through venues such as reality television and social media), thus allowing us to break the spatial and temporal bonds of our humanity (and escape the ultimate end of our being). Marketing and consumption have truly allowed us to achieve ‘infinity and beyond’. Even Buzz, though, when confronting the commoditised version of himself in the toy store, realises there is something basically wrong with this (‘Tell me I wasn’t this delusional’). The toys ultimately discover, as we all should, that life is only worth living if you open yourself up to the fragility, suffering, and finality of life (i.e. that

Lanier et al.Anthropomorphism, relationships, andworth 43

which is beyond reason, explanation, and definition; Bauman, 1995). Only then, albeit fleetingly, is it possible to experience happiness, pleasure, and love. For as the song says, ‘When the road looks rough ahead, and you’re miles and miles from your nice warm bed, just remember what your old pal said, boy, you’ve got a friend in me’ (Newman, 1995).

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About the authors

Clinton D. Lanier Jr. is assistant professor of marketing at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul, Minnesota, USA. His research interests include experiential marketing, consumer fantasy and imagination, and the consumption of adventure. He has published in the Academy of Marketing Science Review, Memorable Customer Experiences, and Research in Consumer Behavior: Consumer Culture Theory.

Corresponding author: Clinton D. Lanier, Jr., Assistant Professor of Marketing, Opus College of Business, University of St. Thomas, 2115 Summit Avenue, MCH 316, St. Paul, MN 55105-1096, USA.

T 651-962-5887 E [email protected]

C. Scott Rader is assistant professor marketing at Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, North Carolina, USA. His research focuses on consumer experience with technology, consumer fantasy, corporate social responsibility, and cross-cultural consumer behaviour. He is a member of and plenary speaker on methodology for the Grounded Theory Institute.

T 865-789-4999 E [email protected]

Lanier et al.Anthropomorphism, relationships, andworth 47

AubreyR. Fowler III is an assistant professor at Valdosta State University and has published in the Journal of Macromarketing and the Journal of Housing Markets and Analysis. His research interests, though varied, revolve around various aspects of popular culture, including research into the consumption of music, movies, and other cultural texts. Additionally, he is interested in bodily consumption, particularly as it relates to various consumer objects and fantasies.

T 229-245-6458 E [email protected]

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