Grade: B+

Despite some conspicuous stumbles (e.g., the “Cars” series, “The Good Dinosaur”), many viewers regard Pixar product as the gold standard in animated family fare, and the “Toy Story” trilogy (1995-2010) near the top of the list in terms of heart and humor. So good was the last of the three that one critic, who shall remain nameless, noted that it left room for another installment but asked, “Why court ruining a series that’s gone so well until now?”

However right he might have been about the possibility of a letdown, his worries were misplaced. “Toy Story 4” does the franchise proud. Every bit as lovable as the first three films, its mixture of rambunctious fun and sentimental schmaltz is utterly irresistible. In a summer of sequels that have too often proven dismal disappointments, it’s an oasis in a cinematic desert, a combination of the familiar and the new that makes for an instant classic.

The stage is immediately set with the stable of toys’ new owner, little Bonnie (voiced by Madeleine McGraw) fearful about having to go off to kindergarten. Woody (voiced again by Tom Hanks), who may no longer be her favorite but remains as loyal as ever, decides to sneak into her backpack as a protector on orientation day, and a good thing he does: he provides her with stuff from a trash can that enables her to fashion a toy of her own—a plastic fork to which she attaches some pipe cleaners and googly eyes, pronouncing the result Forky (Tom Hale).

Forky, however, rejects the idea of being a toy and wants to return to the trash heap. One of the running gags in the picture will be Woody’s incessant efforts to prevent him from committing forkicide and teaching him what it means to be a toy.

That happens during a pre-school road trip the family takes to the tourist town of Grand Basin, during which Forky’s latest escape attempt leaves him and Woody on the side of the highway while the RV rolls on, the other toys like Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) concerned about their friends. When the missing duo finally hoofs it to their destination, Woody is distracted by a memento of a long-lost friend in a secondhand goods store window—the lamp on whose base porcelain Bo Peep (Annie Potts) and her gaggle of sheep had once stood. When no longer needed to serve as a nightlight, it was given away—and Bo Peep told Woody it was time for her to go as part of the natural order of kids growing up.

Much of what follows will play out in the store and the carnival across the street from it. Woody and Forky sneak into the place, run by an elderly lady (June Squibb), in search of Bo Peep, but what they encounter instead is Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks), a pull-string doll desperate to secure a properly functioning voicebox—like Woody’s—which she’s sure will make her a cinch to catch the eye of the owner’s granddaughter Harmony (Lila Sage Bromley). And she has henchmen in the form of a bunch of sinister ventriloquist’s dummies who might have stepped from the pages of “Goosebumps.”

The upshot in the ensuing action is that Woody escapes but Forky doesn’t, and to rescue him Woody will seek the help of Bo Peep, who’s been living a life of independence on the outside with some new friends (most notably tiny Giggles McDimples, voiced by Ally Maki). She’ll enlist one of her old store buddies, motorcycle daredevil Duke Kaboom (Keanu Reeves), as well.

Meanwhile Buzz leaves the RV in search of Woody, and convinces two initially hostile plush toys from the carnival’s prize booth, Ducky (Keegan-Michael Key) and Bunny (Jordan Peele), to join in the caper. Many gambits, chases, last-second escapes and turns of fortune follow, with the screenplay by Andrew Stanton and Stephany Folsom inventive in devising the action sequences and clever in juxtaposing them with moments of sweetness and poignancy, as well as in creating new characters—like Forky—that prove as ingratiating as the old ones. And while remaining true to the series’ messages about loyalty and commitment, the scripters also manage to close things out with an ending that’s satisfying even as it invites a few sniffles.

As might be expected from this source, the animation is exceptional, and the voice work equally so. Hanks and Allen reprise their roles with their customary élan, and Potts returns as an energized symbol of girl power, abetted by Maki’s hyperactive sidekick.

And while the other old characters are mostly reduced to cameos, the new ones prove ready to take center stage. Hendricks manages to bring a nice degree of nuance to Gabby Gabby, who’s desperate to have a relationship with a child (shades of the recent bomb “Ugly Dolls,” which handled the idea much less successfully), Key and Peele make an amiable grousing pair, and Reeves is a hoot as the arrogant Kaboom. The breakout star, however, will certainly be Hale’s goofy Forky, whose wayward efforts to return to the wastebasket will delight kids and adults alike. The score by Randy Newman, which makes use of some favorites as well as offering a few new treats, is another plus.

“Toy Story 4” represents a directorial debut for Cooley and a screenwriting one for Folsom (though she’s paired with veteran Stanton). If this is part of a passing of the torch at Pixar, it’s wound up in good hands.

Grade: B+

After more than a decade Chinese master Zhang Yimou returns to the wuxia genre in which he excelled with “Hero” and “House of Flying Daggers,” and scores a third triumph. “Shadow” is a luminously gorgeous visual experience, and though parts of it are talky and theatrical, at its best it’s a remarkable accomplishment.

The narrative, loosely based on a part of the Three Kingdoms epic. is one of court intrigue in the third century A.D.. The fortress city of Jingzhou has been lost to General Yang (Hu Jun) as the result of a one-on-one combat with Commander Yu (Deng Chao) of the Kingdom of Pei. Yu was so terribly wounded in the fight that back home he retreated into seclusion in caverns hidden in the palace complex.

But his machinations did not cease; he has replaced himself at court with a double, Jing (also played by Deng Chao), whom he continues to train in martial combat. Only Yu’s wife Xiao (Sun Li) is complicit in the substitution.

All of this is revealed gradually: the film begins with Jing, in the guise of Yu, announcing to King Peiliang (Zheng Kai) that he has challenged Yang to a rematch to decide the city’s fate. The monarch, ostensibly a cowardly, frightened young man, is aghast: his policy has been to maintain an alliance with the seemingly invincible general. So he sends his chief minister Lu Yan (Wang Jingchun) to Jingzhou to propose the marriage of his beautiful but independent-minded sister Quingping (Guan Xiaotong) to Yang’s son Ping (Leo Wu). When the general responds by suggesting that she become his son’s concubine instead, it infuriates her.

Meanwhile the real Yu has been plotting with Captain Tian (Wang Qianyuan), who sees his king’s policies as misguided, to stage a backdoor assault on Jingzhou while the fight between Jing/Yu and Yang serves as a distraction. The dangerous assault will, it’s been decided at Xiao’s suggestion, utilize a new combat technique combining masculine and feminine elements, in which the soldiers will employ umbrellas outfitted with iron blades, which require some decidedly womanly moves when wielded but, as is shown in one especially astonishing scene, can also be used as virtual sleds to speed down a slick mountain street.

That sequence is physically possible, however improbable it appears in narrative terms, because of one of the film’s constants: the rain, which is unremitting, and gives everything a sheen. The visual side of “Shadow” is almost incredibly beautiful: unlike many of Zhang’s films—“Hero” a prime example—it uses bright colors barely at all, instead mimicking, in shimmering shades of whites, blacks and grays, traditional Chinese ink-and-brush painting. Ma Kwong Wing’s production design also makes ample use of the yin-yang symbol which, for example, fills the floor of the cavern where Yu trains Jing, as well as that of the bamboo tower high above a gorge on which Jing and Yang do battle. (The masculine-feminine motif is emphasized in the simultaneous one-on-one fight between Ping and Quingping.) Of equal symbolic significance is another motif—the zither duets of Yu and Xiao, which possess both a collaborative and an adversarial aspect.

Complementing the ravishing work of Ma Kwong Wing are the flamboyant costumes of Chen Minzheng, especially the court gowns that swirl luminously in the glistening widescreen cinematography of Zhao Xiaoding. When one combines all the technical contribution with Zhang’s operatic direction (complemented by the superb action choreography of Dee Dee, to which Zhou Xiaolin’s editing adds panache), the result is a film that can take one’s breath away.

In narrative terms, one must admit, “Shadow” will require some effort for western audiences, who are unlikely to be aware of the tale from the Three Kingdoms epic. The opening sequences, which take place before the Yu/Zing imposture is revealed, may confuse viewers, especially when it comes to the reluctance of “Yu” and Xiao to perform their music at the king’s request—something explained only later on. They may also be bewildered by the twists in the final act, in which characters who had seem fixed now become very different people.

The highly theatrical ambience naturally necessities a broad performance style from the cast. That’s especially evident in the dual work of Deng, whose subdued turn as Jing is in radical contrast to his hysterical one as Yu. He’s almost outdone in that respect by Zheng, whose king is wildly emotional. The other actors are less ostentatiously histrionic, but could hardly be called subtle; that’s not the approach Zhang has taken to the material.

Zhang’s treatment of the ancient Chinese legend may be narratively complicated and unbelievably florid, but it’s a completely ravishing visual experience.