Toy Story 5

At one point near the end of the film, when I could tell that it was almost over, I suddenly became very emotional. Not because of the actions on screen, but because of the act of it being on the screen at all. Toy Story has existed for longer than I have, and it always comes out on my birthday weekend. I have rare and few memories of my paternal grandparents, and one of the most concrete is of getting a toy Buzz and a toy Woody for Christmas. This franchise is very near and dear to my heart, as I’m sure it is for many Gen Z kids and their families. It was one of many emotional outbursts of the runtime.

I’ll tell it to you straight. Putting aside franchise, putting aside cast, putting aside personal bias and history (or at least, trying to), this is a phenomenal film. One that is as prescient as it is empathetic. And not that it matters in reference to its enjoyability or effectiveness, but I believe it will win best animated feature at the Oscars and at the very least it deserves to.

This movie is special, because it’s about you.

The first Toy Story is so simple, and yet so effective because on a fundamental level it throws you into an unfamiliar and exciting world that is inherently reflective of our own (because it is just our own). This film feels like the original, equally as effective with all the same loveable characters, but even more prescient. If Toy Story is a fable, a bedtime story you tell to your children, Toy Story 5 is a cautionary tale you need to hear for yourself. One that isn’t trying to scare you, but rather show you what you might be unable to see amidst the fog, before it swallows you whole.

I find that the best movies lure you into an unfamiliar and exciting world, and once you can’t tear your eyes away, hold up a mirror and reveal to you parts of yourself and of the real world around you. You may find what you see to be ugly, beautiful, scary, disappointing, unappealing, hilarious, or ridiculous, but the point of it all is that you are actively contributing to it by being a part of it, especially as a member of the audience.

Toy Story 5 is about us, all of us. Our parents, our children, and the things we think we hold dear. One minute it’s toys and games and puzzles, bedtime stories, camping trips, quality time, eye contact, original ideas, then it’s the 6 inch camera/phone/clock/GPS/television/gamingconsole/socialplatform/portaltoanotheruniversewithaccesstoeverypieceofhumaninformationevertoexist rectangle in your pocket.

It’s about losing touch with your imagination for the sake of meaningless interconnectedness. About being replaced by AI with the push of a button. About how fragile and precious young minds are, and how they need to be tended to and watered, not put on a treadmill and neglected. But it’s also about coming to terms with events that have rocked you to your core. About moving on, about coping with change. It may not be what you want to see on your one free day in this busy life, but if you open yourself up to it, I think you’d really enjoy it.

Now, what I found especially hard to swallow about this was that nobody (no humans) actually did anything about it. Naturally, it’s called Toy Story not Human Story, so the toys need to save the day, but I know it cannot be coincidental that every portrayal of humanity was either a lazy and unbothered dock-worker, a zombified drone glued to an LED screen, or someone who’d been miraculously cured from this zombification by external forces.

We aren’t helping each other in this movie, we aren’t doing it for ourselves. If you took a look through that mirror, would you say the same?