Toy Story 5
Film
When Bonnie receives a Lilypad tablet as a gift and becomes obsessed, Buzz, Woody, Jessie and the rest of the gang’s jobs become exponentially harder when they have to go head-to-head with the all-new threat to playtime.
For over thirty years, the Toy Story film series has earned its sterling reputation as one of the most important and (dare I say) best stories ever told on the silver screen by packaging mature, adult-coded themes inside of feel-good, family-friendly entertainment. Whether it’s tackling the acceptance of change, the importance of friendship, or what it means to live a life of purpose, the animated franchise has always embraced the unique challenge – and golden opportunity – that comes with telling a story that speaks to both children and adults on an equal playing field. After Toy Story 3 was released in the summer of 2010, it seemed Pixar had delivered a storybook ending and a perfect sign-off for its most prestigious property. To many people’s chagrin, the series made a curtain-call comeback in 2019 with a fourth installment that was well-received but reputed to be a nonessential epilogue to a story that already felt neatly wrapped up (but just so we're clear, I'm not going to sit here and pretend I didn't have a great time and wasn't a big fan).
So, when a fifth film was confirmed to be in development in 2023, it became clear that the good(ish?) people at Pixar either: (A) cannot leave well enough alone; (B) recognize a gold mine when they see one; or (C) felt like there was still an important story to tell with these characters inside the magical world they've created and have carefully polished like a precious pearl over many, many years. Like a lot of Toy Story fans out there, I wasn't sure what to think or how to feel about the prospect of yet another sequel. What's left to do with these characters? What more is there to say that hasn't already been said? Does Toy Story still matter and have staying power the way it once did?
When you achieve the levels of success this franchise has earned over and over and over and over again, it becomes increasingly difficult not only to scale the mountain, but to try and raise the bar higher. While Toy Story 5 doesn’t necessarily raise the bar, it admirably scales the mountain again and (mostly) lives up to its minted reputation. And despite my millenial urge to be defensive and protective that there's a risk of tarnishing a sacred story I've cared about since I was a wee little one, I left the theater understanding why the creative forces behind the movie felt compelled to return for another encore.
Spoilers aplenty
You remember Bonnie, right? Well, she's eight-years-old now (they grow up so dang fast, don't they?!) still living in the ignorant bliss of playtime in her room with her beloved toys, including Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), Jessie (Joan Cusack), who is Bonnie's favorite and the de facto leader, and many of the familiar faces from the motley crew of toys that have been together since the good old days in Andy's room (who by the way is probably crushing kegstands of Natty Light in the basement of his rundown college house but is still on track to graduate in five years, majoring in mechanical engineering with a very solid 3.7 GPA. He's also holding down a part-time job as a teaching assistant for a second-year Fluid Mechanics course to help cover his rent so his mom can afford re-sale general admission floor seats on Ticketmaster – since she missed out in the pre-sale window – to take his younger sister, Molly, and Molly's friend, Ava – who is also her doubles partner on the high school tennis team – to see Olivia Rodrigo when The Unraveld Tour makes its second stop in Pittsburgh later in the fall. Keep up the good work, young man and remember to call home and sprinkle in a few green vegetables once and awhile)... But back to sweet Bonnie, who is starting to realize that she's out of touch with her peers and having a hard time making friends. For kids her age, screentime has all but replaced playtime (you can see where this is going). To help Bonnie's socialization, her parents buy her a frog-themed tablet named Lilypad, referred to as "Lily" (Greta Lee). Unsurprisingly, Bonnie becomes instantly addicted to Lily and the promise of connectivity and digital friendships she (in theory) provides – which means, of course, that all her toys quickly cast aside and forgotten (kind of like how I casually forgot I had Legos for a solid 3 months after getting Spyro: Year of the Dragon on my first PlayStation).
With each entry in the Toy Story series, the primary conflict tackled in each film has always been inherently existential – but in this latest entry, the stakes and potential fallout have become a bit, well, dystoptian. This isn't about what is going to happen to Andy, Emily (remember Jessie's first kid?), Bonnie, Woody, Buzz, or any of the toys for that matter – it's bigger than that, it's about all kids and all toys everywhere. Toy Story 5 wants to be the canary in our cultural coalmine; it's a not-so-subtle battle cry for adults to slow down and think about how crucial it is for kids to unplug – and, what the consequences and impending doom of how early-onset digital dependency might disproportionately effect our most vulnerable generation. Is that all too heady? Am I over-think and/or over-intellectualizing the intent behind an animated kids' movie? I don't think so – in a world full of Minions and Minecraft (no shade), Toy Story still operates as a more tender and thoughtful creative endeavor, a story positioned to have the childrens' best interests in mind. Regardless of whether or not you think this franchise has over-stayed its welcome, I think it's fair to say that there is certainly a story to be told here, a cautionary tale to be specific.
Still traumatized by past abandonment, Jessie intends to help Bonnie make "real" friends, the kind of friends you make during playtime, not out of convencience or by circumstance because of screentime. She calls up her ol' pal Woody (Tom Hanks) – remember him?! After his midlife crisis of sorts in Toy Story 4, he's been out on the streets helping Bo Peep (Annie Potts) find homes for abandoned toys. He, too, recognizes that things have gotten worse since the tablet taken over. When Bonnie gets invited to a sleepover (thanks to Lily getting her connected on "The Pond"), Jessie and her still-trusty steed, Bullseye, stow away in her bag to help ensure she makes "real" friends. When Bonnie arrives at Chelsea's for the sleepover, she is quickly chastised by the girls for 'still playing with toys.' Ugh, kids can be cruel. Embarrassed, she decides to leave them behind in the car to go back home; Jessie and Bullyseye leave the car to rejoin Bonnie, but are quickly discovered by an old couple. They inspect the toys, find an old address on the inside of Jessie's chaps, and deliver them to the farmhouse of their original owner, Emily. Yes, that Emily – the same aforementioned Emily who left Jessie and Bullseye in a roadside donation box when she outgrew her toys, which ultimately led to them being kept in storage for well over twenty years, as covered in Toy Story 2. Yeahhhh, that's the abandonment I was referring to earlier. You can imagine what showing up to that old farmhouse meant to Jessie and how it might resurface old wounds. It's a beautifully complicated storytelling choice and presents the kind of emotional depth that makes a story like this worth returning to – until it goes a step too far.
The film's second half does a fine job balancing three primary plotlines: the A-plot focuses on Jessie's mission to save Bonnie from the tablet, the B-plot tracks Woody and Buzz's adventures to find Jessie, and the C-plot follows a stranded army of hi-tech Buzz Lightyears who are on a mission to find "Star Command" (don't ask and I won't tell). On Jessie's mission, we're introduced to another squad of forgotten toys, all of whom are techier, tablet-light toys who belong to Blaze, the young girl who now lives at the old farmhouse with her parents. Jessie quickly recognizes that Blaze and Bonnie are kindred spirits and makes it her mission to get them to meet in-person and befriend one another. No need to lay out who all the plot lines converge, but it's nicely done, even if all the pieces fall into place and fit together without many surprises.
What's important to dive into is the film's emotional pivot point – the moment when Jessie's backstory comes full circle. At her lowest point, there is a reveal that fills in what happened after Emily got rid of Jessie and Bullseye all those years ago. In a time capsule buried in front of the tree where Emily used to play with her toys, Jessie finds photos of an adult Emily and her daughter, who is named... Jessie. With this discovery, Jessie regains her faith in Bonnie and comes to better understand that in the child-toy relationship, "it isn't necessarily the years, it's the mileage" (to invoke a nugget of wisdom from a man who knew a thing or two about keeping the course despite some wear and tear). Don't get me wrong – it's a heart-string pulling moment that cuts deep and rings true. But, there's something about the retconning of this pivotal moment from this series that feels little somewhat retrograde and kind of cheapens how devastating the impact of Emily's abandonment of Jessie and Bullseye was in hindsight. Sure, it softens that blow, but did we really need the blow to be softened? We don't really know why Emily got rid of Jessie and Bullseye other than... she grew up? Is there any more we really needed to say? There's something off and misplaced about re-contextualizing Emily's decisions as a pre-teen and correlating that to what's happening with Bonnie. I guess we don't know if Emily, like Bonnie, was feeling similar pressures to leave behind playtime or not; but I do think the writers saw this as a way to give Jessie a third-act opportunity to round out her story arc, even if it's a little lazy. Look, I'm nitpicking, but I do feel like this revisionism undercuts the emotional gut-punch of the "When She Loved Me" montage from Toy Story 2 and cheapens the authentic heartbreak of Emily's maturation and outgrowth.
In terms of generating buzz for a new generation of Toy Story fans, who better than a little-known, real-up-and-comer (you miiiiight have heard of her), Taylor Swift, to capture what pre-teens might be feeling: an over-the-credits reflection on the loss of innocence and the unyielding power of nostalgia (even though that same artist might be 36-years-old and recently celebrated her nuptials to a guy who probably had more in common with Sid than Andy growing up if we're being honest about it). I'm kidding, her song is great, and the pairing makes total sense – plus, her involvement represents the absolute best that Disney's limitless money can afford. It'll definitely get her nominated for an Oscar and probably a win. Currently, the film is the third-highest grossing film of 2026 (which is good for Pixar, since this had a $250+ million budget). I stand by what I said earlier – there was a story to be told in Toy Story 5, and I'm glad it exists, even if there are aspects about it that I didn't connect with or feel undermine my own remembrance. In that regard, this film franchise might have now moved past me, which is something I will need to put on a brave face for and grapple with as an emotionally-overextended, 30-some-year-old man with three different theories for my back is sore all the time. Don't be surprised to see Woody, Buzz, and Jessie run it back, where their sentience begins to be observed by humans, and they decide to take over.
Check back in 2034 for Toy Story 6: Judgement Day.
Froth
Who says you can't order a beer (or two) while watching a movie made for children?! To be crystal clear, I was there, seated and sober, in the fuckin' theater, for every single Toy Story movie. So if I want a damn beer, I'm going to order a damn beer! Sadly for me, the beer-drinking did not happen at the movie (to be clear, there were exactly zero children in the crowd when I saw the movie, sooo I don't know what that says about me or anyone else in there). I consumed Juice Jorts on my own time afterwards, thinking about all the waking minutes I've spent, watching, talking, thinking about, or writing about Toy Story. That's only a depressing thought if you're soulless, so I'm not worried about. By the way, Juice Jorts is not only a great pale ale from Maplewood, but an instantly iconic summer beer from a Chicago brewery. Don't mind me skirting over to the taproom before it's gone.
