Okay, this review is late, but whatever. Let’s be honest. Toy Story 5 did not need to exist. After the nearly perfect emotional closure of the first three films, and the more divisive but still thoughtful farewell of Toy Story 4, another trip back to Andy’s old toy box could have easily felt like Pixar rummaging through the attic for brand equity.
But here’s the surprise: Toy Story 5 works.
It is better than Toy Story 4. It is not better than the first three films, because let’s not get crazy before lunch. But it is still a warm, funny, emotionally effective sequel that finds a smart new angle by making Jessie the emotional center of the story.
That change is welcome.
Woody (Tom Hanks) and Buzz (Tim Allen) are still here, of course, but they are wisely moved into supporting roles. This is Jessie’s movie, and Joan Cusack’s cowgirl finally gets the kind of spotlight she has deserved since Toy Story 2. The film is about friendship, growing up, being left behind, and the terrifying question every kid eventually faces: Are we too old for toys?
It also asks a very modern question: What happens when technology starts interrupting the messy, imaginative, tactile work of being a kid?
The story begins with a cargo ship carrying a unit of high-tech Buzz Lightyear toys crash-landing on a deserted island. Stuck in demo mode, the shipwrecked Buzzes escape and follow the North Star, convinced they are returning to Star Command.
But the real story belongs to Bonnie.
Now eight years old, Bonnie receives a frog-themed tablet named Lilypad, or Lily (Greta Lee), from her parents. They hope it will help her socialize with kids her own age. Instead, Bonnie becomes hooked on the device and begins neglecting her toys. Jessie, now Bonnie’s favorite and the room’s leader, tries to explain to Lily that Bonnie needs more than just stimulation. She needs a real friend.
Lily, being a piece of tech and therefore emotionally clueless in the specific way only helpful devices can be, attempts to solve the problem by sending a friend request to Chelsea, one of Bonnie’s classmates.
From there, the movie becomes a story about connection, insecurity, and identity. Jessie fears she is losing Bonnie. Bonnie is embarrassed when other kids question why she still plays with toys. Lily believes she is helping, even as she starts replacing the very imagination the toys represent.
That is the smartest part of Toy Story 5. The villain is not really the tablet. The villain is disconnection. It is the creeping pressure to grow up before you are ready. It is the little social humiliations that make kids abandon the things they still love.
When Bonnie goes to a sleepover, Jessie and Bullseye stow away in her suitcase, only for Bonnie to send them home after being embarrassed by Chelsea and her friends. Jessie eventually finds herself back at the farmhouse of her original owner, Emily, where the film takes its biggest emotional swing.
That is where Pixar got me.
Jessie discovers a buried lunchbox filled with late-20th-century objects and photos of an adult Emily with her daughter, who has been named after Jessie. It is a beautiful moment because it reframes Jessie’s fear of being forgotten. Emily did not abandon Jessie in the larger sense. Jessie mattered. She shaped a life. She became memory, legacy and love.
That is classic Pixar. Sneaky, devastating and emotionally illegal.
That is a solid emotional arc.
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The moment gives Jessie new faith in Bonnie and in her own purpose. It also makes the movie’s larger theme work: toys may not stay with children forever, but that does not mean their impact disappears.
The film is also surprisingly interested in aging, especially through Woody. His role here is smaller, but meaningful. He returns because Jessie needs him, not because the movie needs to make him the hero again. There is something touching about seeing Woody accept that his time as the center of a child’s world has changed. He is still useful. He is still loved. But his purpose has evolved.
Buzz gets a fun subplot with the shipwrecked demo-mode Buzz units, and the movie has a lot of playful energy with that idea. The multiple Buzzes are silly, but they also allow the film to revisit one of the franchise’s oldest jokes: Buzz trying to understand what it means to be a toy. This time, he gets to help other Buzzes figure it out.
The new characters are a mixed but mostly enjoyable bunch. Lily is a clever addition, especially since the film does not portray her as evil. She is a device designed to help, but she cannot understand the emotional texture of childhood. Smarty Pants, a potty-training toy voiced by Conan O’Brien, is the kind of absurd side character this franchise knows how to use without overplaying. Atlas and Snappy bring some fun gadget energy, while Blaze gives Bonnie the human connection she has been missing.
The script by Andrew Stanton and McKenna Harris is fine early on, but it becomes much stronger once it starts digging into Jessie’s story. That is where the movie finds its soul. Before that, some of the tech-versus-toys material feels a little obvious, even if it is timely. Yes, screens are changing childhood. Yes, kids are under more social pressure than ever. Yes, tablets are becoming babysitters, companions and little glowing attention goblins. The movie is not subtle about any of this.
But when the film ties those ideas to Jessie’s fear of irrelevance, it clicks.
The biggest gripe is Joan Cusack’s voice. We love Joan Cusack. She IS Jessie. She has always brought the character a manic sweetness and emotional tremble that made her unforgettable. But in Toy Story 5, her voice sometimes sounds older than the youthful-looking Jessie on screen, creating a slight disconnect. It is not fatal, but it is noticeable.
Still, Cusack finds the emotion when it matters, especially in the Emily sequence and the final stretch.
The animation, as expected, is gorgeous. Pixar has reached the point where even the small textures — fabric, dust, plastic, fur, old wood, tablet glass — feel absurdly rich. The contrast between the warm, worn toy world and Lily’s slick digital glow gives the film a strong visual idea.
What makes Toy Story 5 work is that it understands the franchise cannot simply repeat the old formula. Andy is gone. Woody has changed. Bonnie is growing up. The toys are no longer asking only, “What happens when a child stops playing with us?” They are asking, “What if childhood itself is changing?”
That gives the sequel a reason to exist.
The ending is sweet without being too syrupy. Bonnie and Blaze bond over their love of toys; Jessie and Buzz have a playful pretend wedding; and Woody watches with quiet happiness before departing with Bo Peep. He knows it’s no longer his toy room, making it the emotional thunderbolt of the story.
And yes, Pixar made me cry again. Rude, but expected.
Toy Story 5 is not a masterpiece. The script has some soft spots, the tech commentary can feel broad, and not every new character is essential. But Jessie’s story gives the film real heart, and the movie earns its place by shifting the emotional focus instead of trying to recreate Woody’s journey.
BOTTOM LINE: Toy Story 5 is a worthy sequel, a welcome showcase for Jessie, and a surprisingly thoughtful look at growing up in a screen-filled world. It’s a REEL SEE.
Geek out.
The Geek is a working screenwriter, director and screenwriting instructor.
