McKenna Harris and Andrew Stanton’s “Toy Story 5” is easily the least essential entry of the fabled franchise; a never-asked-for continuation of the story of Woody, Buzz, and Jessie the Cowgirl that, despite its creakiness, very nearly makes a convincing argument for its own existence. Nearly but not quite. Underscored with interesting ideas, yet hamstrung by the obligations to serve not only an audience who believes they know what these movies should be but also the marketing interests of Disney, the film feels as if it were a second draft hastily constructed in a blind panic, partly because it kind of was. In a recent interview, Tom Hanks admitted that the film was 80% completed at one point, only for the Pixar team to scrap everything and start over. Now, this isn’t the first time that a “Toy Story” movie has been hastily erased and reassembled, as “Toy Story 2” was completed in a manic frenzy after the original version, a straight-to-video slog by a Disney subsidiary, was axed. That “Toy Story 2” and “Toy Story 5” share production headaches is rather fitting, not only because of how each film feels to be playing off one another but also because of their distinction as flex points in one of the most successful film series of all time. “Toy Story 2” was a massive leap forward in the capability of Pixar, a sizeable evolution not only of the world that our beloved toys operated within but also of the emotional complexity that a computer-animated character could elicit in the audience. The most lasting sequence of the film, “When She Loved Me,” is a tender and achingly melancholy reminder that kids will always grow up and have to leave the things of childhood behind; a piece of filmmaking, and music by Randy Newman, which scarred an entire generation of parents into grieving their child’s inevitable aging and an entire generation of children into believing that they had betrayed that Barbie they donated to Goodwill the year before to an eternity of lonely suffering. This abandonment has always been central to the long arc of Jessie (Joan Cusack), the yodeling Cowgirl who is brave enough to face all comers, but is terrified of going back into a cardboard box by the side of the road. Often, a third lead in a story built around the character development of either Woody (Tom Hanks) or Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), “Toy Story 5” finally allows Jessie to take the reins and become the main focus as she attempts to foster happiness for her new child, Bonnie. It’s about time, if we’re honest, and giving Jessie the spotlight is a welcome change from the previously Woody-focused series. Yet, even in their attempt to innovate, the filmmakers can’t help but play the familiar, treacly notes of nostalgia as a backing track to a story that dares to try something different with middling success. It doesn’t take away from the effort; it just makes one think that perhaps it’s time to put the toys back in the chest for a good long while.
“Toy Story 5” begins with a storage container having crashed into a deserted island in the middle of the ocean. This container is filled with the latest variant of Buzz Lightyear, a Wi-Fi-enabled action figure that shares the delusion that it is not, in fact, a toy. Acting as a unit, the dozens of Space Rangers swarm the island, trying to find their path back to Star Command. Upon seeing the North Star, this Band of Buzzes decides to build a raft and set course for civilization. Meanwhile, in Bonnie’s room, Jessie is the new sheriff, and our Buzz, the only one that really matters, is her deputy. Buzz, whose burgeoning love for Jessie has been playfully teased out for about three movies now, hopes to propose, yet cannot bring himself to say the words. Meanwhile, Bonnie is just as imaginative as ever, creating grand melodramas with her oddball collection of toys that begin tranquil enough but often devolve into chaos. Yet, she can’t seem to bring herself to make friends with kids her own age, as the performative joy of playtime seems to mask a profound shyness. Jessie, taking it upon herself, takes Bullseye to investigate what the other children in the neighborhood are doing, only to find them all coalesced into a hive mind-brain rot via screens. iPads, or “LilyPads,” have infiltrated the imaginations of previously joyful kids, turning play into mindless button-mashing and the wide-eyed wonder of friendship into the cold distancing of a group chat. Hoping that it will help their daughter make friends, Bonnie’s parents decide to get her a LilyPad (Greta Lee). The device bursts into the home and immediately steals away all of Bonnie’s attention, meaning the toys have become an afterthought. A battle of wills erupts between Jessie and Lily over how best to help Bonnie find some friends. That war escalates when Lily gets Bonnie invited to a sleepover with girls from her dance class, and Jessie stows away, only for the girls to laugh at Bonnie for still playing with toys. Through fortuitous happenstance, as tends to happen to our sentient toys, Jessie and Bullseye are found “lost” on the sidewalk by a kindly couple who hope to return them to their owner. There’s an address written on Jessie, so the couple drops her off there. Little do they know that this is not, in fact, Bonnie’s home but the home of Jessie’s former owner, Emily, the girl who grew up and left her to waste away in a donation bin. Insistent on getting back to Bonnie before Lily ruins her childhood, Jessie is forced to join forces with a group of abandoned devices, including a toilet trainer named Smarty Pants (Conan O’Brien), to find her way home. Oh, and also, on the other side of the story, Woody returns to the room after his sojourns across the “real world” with Bo Peep to help Buzz coerce the smug Lily into finding Jessie and Bullseye.
There is perhaps a better version of this movie that doesn’t bother with Woody at all, which sounds sacrilegious to the series as a whole. And yet, by the end of “Toy Story 4,” the cowboy’s story had found a happily ever after. Unburdened by his need to be forever loved and abandoned by child after child, he followed his heart and left for a life on the road with his old flame and a ragtag group of wanderers that included perhaps my favorite “Toy Story” character, Duke Kaboom (Keanu Reeves). The panic and turmoil of aging that fueled the previous four films had reached their zenith, calling for a passing of the torch not only for the caretaking of Bonnie but of the emotional nexus of the story. In “Toy Story 5,” his entrance and inclusion are borderline incidental, fueled most likely by a desire for a newly costumed Woody doll to line store shelves in the coming months. This can be said for many of this film’s characters, more window dressing and fodder for merchandising than for narrative importance. I mean, half the voice cast from the original film has sadly passed on, meaning Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head don’t sound like themselves and are really just around to fill the background. While it’s always nice to see Woody, it is quite odd finding him far from the prime focus of the film, acting more as a special guest star of a long-running TV series returned to illicit a sweeps week boost to ratings. And then there’s Buzz Lightyear, whose long curve toward becoming enraptured by Jessie has been foretold since his wings independently activated when he saw her for the first time in “Toy Story 2.” His buffoonish arrogance as a Space Ranger has run its course, replaced instead by a toy eager to be loved by Bonnie, who prefers to cast him as a hopeless romantic or even a damsel in distress during the course of playtime. Buzz is a ridiculous character, and his banter with old pal Woody, as the pair argue and bicker over which of them is actually Jessie’s deputy in her absence, is admittedly fun, but in the way of laughing good-naturedly at a family member recounting a story you’ve heard many times before. There’s delight in the effort and the presentation, and we’ll never be sorry for seeing Buzz and Woody on screen together; yet the whole enterprise feels a bit trite and mundane, something “Toy Story” movies never felt like before.
For a film series based around toys that you can readily buy at the store, “Toy Story” always found a way to dig deeper than commercialism, to touch on something profoundly human through the struggles and growth of these little plastic creatures. Where “Toy Story 5” fails in having something novel to say about our heroes, beyond the pre-established fear of being left out by the curb, it does try to do something interesting with Bonnie, centralizing her emotions and growth above all others. The human owners in “Toy Story” films are historically dull while being deeply loved by our characters as the central preoccupation of their entire existence. Each of these movies follows a similar structure where a toy gets lost and must be returned before the kid in question knows they are missing. While “Toy Story 5” does indeed follow some of these tropes, this film allows Jessie and Lily to not only fight over what is best for Bonnie but enact it, the pair ultimately utilizing technology and the internet to actively manipulate this kid’s life. While the movie often trips over itself as it clumsily tries to motor toward its ultimate conclusion, the filmmakers are attempting something unique: a friendship matchmaking not between Bonnie and her toys but between Bonnie and a child of similar interests. There has always been an overtone of parental responsibility felt by the toys toward their kids, but “Toy Story 5” allows that subtext to become foundational, creating a world where Bonnie’s ability to speak with, and imagine with, another kid is the core catharsis not only for us but the toys themselves. The best parts of the movie are, in fact, the ones where toys are largely absent, when Bonnie is faced with being bullied by her peers and the prospect of ridicule for who she is. The depth that we once allowed only for the toys is brought out in the subtlest ways with Bonnie as she actively begins to shun what she loves to be accepted, only to realize that there’s a difference between being tolerated and being loved for who you are; a lesson we all had to learn in our own way. Toy antics aside, the beating heart of the movie is Bonnie, a good kid with a big imagination who just wants a friend to share it with. It’s a bold choice that makes the film feel less like a “Toy Story” movie and more like something else, something less polished yet perhaps differently affecting. “You’ve Got A Friend In Me”, afterall.
“Toy Story 5” straddles the line between earnest and crass; a movie that wields nostalgia like a gateway drug while attempting to tell a story that is different yet effective in its own way. Still, for all of its desire to make a genuine connection between two children, the film certainly falters in its critique of technology and its hold on adolescent minds. What begins as a screed against the mass lobotomization via screens soon devolves into something tepid and ill-formed, the limp-willed storytelling of a corporation whose partnership with Apple has been long and profitable. How can you tell kids that iPads are bad with one hand and sell them “LilyPad” iPad covers with the other? Thus is the inherent hypocrisy of studio filmmaking, the same instinct that will undoubtedly, in a few years, once again dig out these mothball-laden characters that we loved as children with a hope of one more billion-dollar payday via cinematic necromancy. Woody, Buzz, and Jessie will live forever, which is their curse, and Disney will assuredly keep making “Toy Story” movies until the sun explodes, which is ours. Feels like as good a reason to take a page out of Bonnie’s book, to touch some grass, meet a friend, and imagine something better.
Unplug and play.
You’ll be glad you did.
“Toy Story 5” is playing at Prytania Theatres at Canal Place and The Broad Theater.
