Thirty years after Toy Story rewired what animation could be, Disney and Pixar return with a sequel that still finds something worth pulling off the shelf.
Woody and co have faced plenty of villains over the years: the gold-hungry prospector Stinky Pete in Toy Story 2, the strawberry-scented tyrant Lotso in Toy Story 3 and the crafty doll Gabby Gabby in Toy Story 4. This time, the threat is unlike anything that came before. It's not a toy with a grudge, a collector with an obsession or even another child. It’s a tablet.
Toy Story 5 makes its boldest move early on, pushing Woody (Tom Hanks) to the sidelines and handing Jessie (Joan Cusack) the reins. It's a smart switch, allowing the franchise to move forward without forgetting where it came from.
Woody's bald patch, briefly visible beneath his iconic cowboy hat, feels less like a gag than a quiet acknowledgement that time has finally caught up with him. There’s no applause-bait reunion, no attempt to turn back the clock, just a subtle re-entry into a group that’s learned to function without him. He still matters, but not as the unquestioned leader he once was. Few long-running franchises would make that choice. It’s better for it.
Director and co-writer Andrew Stanton understands something many legacy sequels don’t: nostalgia isn’t enough. Working alongside Kenna Harris and producer Lindsey Collins, he gives the film a reason to exist.
The story’s sharpest idea is that Lilypad (Greta Lee) isn’t a villain. She cares about Bonnie (Scarlett Spears) every bit as much as Woody does. The difference is that she represents a version of childhood the toys no longer recognise. That’s where things find their spark.
Three decades on, the studio still finds new ways to make plastic, fabric and imagination feel more alive than the machines designed to replace them.
Stanton and Harris take a premise that could easily have collapsed into a heavy-handed lecture about screen time and reshape it into an astute reflection on what childhood looks like in the digital age. They trust their audience, balancing big ideas with genuine emotion, and the kind of character-driven storytelling that has defined the franchise from the beginning.
Newcomer Bad Bunny slips easily into the film's quirky toy ecosystem as Pizza with Sunglasses, a resident of a forgotten toy colony hidden away in an abandoned backyard shed, while Alan Cumming has a field day as Evil Bullseye, a deranged alter ego of Woody’s trusted steed.
Then there’s Conan O’Brien’s Smarty Pants, an obsolete potty-training gadget so convinced of his own importance that he nearly steals the show. The joke, of course, is that in a story about being left behind, the funniest character is yesterday’s technology.
Taylor Swift caps off the celebrity parade with a country anthem that lingers long after the credits have rolled.
Against all odds, Toy Story still has enough Buzz left in the tank.
