Over the 30 years since its release, the Toy Story franchise has consistently maintained cross-generational appeal. Its layered stories drew children in with the characters’ thrilling (and sometimes life-or-death) adventures. At the same time, its subtext provided enough substance for adult audiences to reflect on their own lives, be moved, and see themselves in these animated 3D toys that many grew up alongside. For its fifth installment, they have found inspiration in more concrete events shaping our world, and, following the trend of many films commenting on the advancement of technology and what it’s doing to society, Toy Story 5 tackles the ways technology is impacting how children play and socialize. With many of the old tropes still present, including the eternal rivalry between Woody and Buzz, and the nostalgia for former owners and better times, this could fairly be called the least profound chapter of the Pixar saga.
In 1995, adults around the world discovered that they could find comfort by working through their existential dilemmas alongside colorful animated characters. Woody, Buzz, and the whole squad of toys served as metaphors for our own fears of change, endings, and aging. We could see the parallels of real life set against the life cycle of a beloved toy. The characters went from grappling with the idea of losing their place and identities in the world, to accepting the inevitability of endings and choosing to enjoy the good while it lasts, to real maturity when rejecting bitterness despite the losses. Even in the fourth installment, which surprised those who considered the story perfectly wrapped up by the third, we see Woody find new meaning and purpose when the previous era of his life ends. The 2026 chapter, however, doesn’t introduce any new metaphor, but a very real and concrete issue: tablets and how children are becoming dependent on them. And though it is still a story filled with insights, adult audiences might find it harder to connect with the characters they’ve shared common crises with for some decades now.
We’re back at Bonnie’s, where the toys, sans Woody, found a home after escaping the purgatorial daycare from the last movie. Bonnie is still a young kid and very much invested in playing with toys, but she is struggling to find real-life friends who share that interest. When her parents hypothesize that the cause of Bonnie’s isolation comes from her not being online like the rest of her peers, we are introduced to Lilypad: the latest and highly addictive device for children to play, socialize, and pretty much live. Even though Bonnie still enjoys playing the old-school way, she gives in to the pressure and neglects Jessie and company to be accepted into the group. This prompts a series of events that land Jessie back at her former owner’s house, Emily, now occupied by Blaze, a new kid who loves horses and her family. Blaze still plays with real toys, but Jessie, convinced that Emily fully forgot her, can’t go through loving another kid after so many rejections. Unable to accept Jessie giving up, the toys, led by Buzz and a surprise appearance by Woody, do their best to get Jessie back to Bonnie. The many toys— too many to keep track of (accurately mirroring this age of abundance and limited attention spans) — follow the two leaders through many rescue adventures. And entertaining as they are, the three interconnected storylines unfortunately don’t achieve the impact that a simpler, single one did in the past.
Mainly, two changes are noticeable in this latest episode. For the first time in the saga, Woody is no longer the protagonist of the story, but has passed the baton to Jessie. Additionally, we have never spent this much time following the children’s story or seeing them on screen at that. Jessie is a beloved and memorable enough character to be able to carry her own story. The problem is that the crisis she experiences is all too familiar and one that, save for specificities, we’ve already gone through with Woody. Jessie’s ecosystem is too close to Woody’s to see this as a spinoff, but Woody not being the beating heart of the story is enough for this not to fully feel like the Toy Story we know. On the other hand, following Bonnie and Blaze allows for several rich observations about the way children are growing up and socializing nowadays. Though focusing on such a topical reality probably won’t make for the timeless stories this saga has offered before, this story is effective on emotional and critical levels, capturing how kids are forced to grow up too soon, and how that is potentially producing the most anxious generations in recorded history.
In line with their hopeful and optimistic brand, though, the toys eventually accept Lilypad, but this isn’t an absolute embracing of technology in children’s lives. All, including Lilypad, understand their role as toys in helping children discover themselves through play, and connect with those similar to them in the process. It is a heartfelt and powerful message, though maybe not the way technology gaining consciousness would play out in reality.
3 out of 5 stars.
It took Woody three movies to realize that it was time to let go of Andy, and that following him to college, despite how much love there still was, would have tarnished the memories of the times when their bond was central to Andy’s life. As an audience, following these characters long after their life cycles have been explored and concluded can feel similar. Despite how much we love them, they’ve largely given us all the lessons we could learn from them, and extending our time together, while mostly entertaining, dilutes the deep joy and catharsis once shared, one movie at a time.
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