★★★★½
I was genuinely surprised by how great Toy Story 5 is. Many argue that the franchise should’ve ended at Toy Story 3. The way it capped off Andy’s childhood and gave a heartfelt send-off to Woody and the gang was a touching finale. So when Toy Story 4 came around years later, I met it with cautious optimism. I did end up having a great time with the fourth movie, but it left me uncertain and cynical about what it meant for the franchise. Now, with a fifth installment, the same anxiety started rearing its ugly head. Why has Woody somehow returned? Is that an iPad? Are they going to retcon Woody leaving Bonnie and the toys? What’s even the point anymore? Not only is the movie a great return to form, but it also swings harder than ever. If there is any justification as to why another sequel should exist, Toy Story 5 surely makes a strong case why.
The movie shifts focus to a new sheriff in town. Jessie (Joan Cusack), after Woody (Tom Hanks) left with Bo Peep (Annie Potts) to help out abandoned toys outside, is now the new leader among Bonnie’s (Scarlett Spears) toys. Now at eight years old, Bonnie struggles to make friends due to her introverted, eccentric demeanor and because other kids are playing with tech rather than toys. Hoping it would help her make friends, Bonnie’s parents reluctantly buy a smart tablet called a Lilypad. Jessie and the toys feel neglected and threatened by Bonnie’s immediate addiction to the device. Given how Lily (Greta Lee) can shower Bonnie with mindless apps and games, but find new friends for Bonnie in mere seconds, how could they not be? Jessie, fearing she is losing Bonnie’s affection, makes one last attempt to help her find more meaningful friends.
It took me a moment to get my bearings with Toy Story 4, but this film makes its premise and stakes clearer. Longtime Pixar veteran and Toy Story series screenwriter Andrew Stanton helms the director’s seat. Stanton directs these characters with a deeper understanding of their personalities and motivations. The existential stakes feel deeper for Jessie, as she must re-engage with the sense of abandonment and uselessness she felt with her former owner, Emily, and now with Bonnie. After feeling embarrassed by her friends for liking toys at their sleepover, Bonnie returns Jessie and Bullseye to her dad. Jessie and Bullseye escape, only to be picked up by an elderly couple, who mistakenly return Jessie to Emily’s farmhouse. Jessie discovers that the house now belongs to eight-year-old Blaze and her parents. With Jessie seeing Blaze as a perfect friend for Bonnie, she means returning home with the help of Blaze’s discarded, obsolete devices: Smarty Pants (Conan O’Brien), Snappy (Shelby Rabara), and Atlas (Craig Robinson).
Even Buzz (Tim Allen) and Woody have their fair share of stakes. Buzz is finding the courage to propose to Jessie, even ensuring he doesn’t squander his new deputy status to be on Jessie’s good side. I like how they flesh out Buzz as a more sensitive toy, unlike the last film where he comes off as obtuse during his Inner Voice subplot. Speaking of Buzz, elsewhere, a group of new Buzz Lightyears in a lost cargo crate are stranded on a deserted island. They slowly uncover their purpose by heading towards the north star – their “Star Command.” After mistaking a call for distress during his talk with Jessie, Woody returns to Bonnie’s house. He’s the constant butt of the joke for being old, whether it’s the shiny bald spot on his head or his bulging dad bod. Woody doesn’t get a more meaningful role beyond being a friendly rival to Buzz’s current motivations, nor does he get much discovery of what it means to be an old man toy. Rather, he’s mostly just played for laughs.
The film’s initial technophobic overtones don’t quite offer a concrete answer about what this new phenomenon does to children. It’s not like when Buzz first landed onto Andy’s bed in Toy Story; the scale spans farther than Bonnie’s household. For the kids and parents dealing with these devices, there is no broader cautionary tale about limiting screen time, using parental controls (even if these terms were mentioned in passing in the movie), or the ramifications of using these devices at that age. For the toys, obsolescence feels imminent. It also makes the point that these devices, like toys, seek love and validation from their owners. The film ultimately takes a coexistential route, where not all problems can be solved with technology but through old-fashioned human connection. It doesn’t quite offer a fully embodied answer to it all, as I think the film aims for something far more important.
The film focuses more on the concept of belonging. That has always been the heart of the Toy Story franchise, and it’s built a more resilient ethos by emphasizing it in toys beyond Woody. From Jessie and Lily making peace with their use and purpose; to Smarty Pants, Atlas, and Snappy finding their use beyond their years; to Buzz finding his romantic purpose, and to the Buzzes finding their existential purpose as a toy, the film greatly puts these to great effect, especially for cathartic payoffs 27 years in the making. And for that? I’m looking forward to seeing more toys and more ways to explore.
Having grown up with these films, I was worried about what more needs to be said about Woody, Buzz, Jessie, and the gang. I was the right age when Andy left for college, and was anxious about what new sequels meant for the franchise. But I’ve thought about this all wrong. There will always be wonder in the things we play with, and endless imagination to find joy and purpose in the stories we make with them. Toy Story 5 shows that even as times change, there are still many tales to tell about the toys. There is still time for play.
