Is Toy Story 5 Pixar’s First Miss? A Critical Review

By Joseph Giganti

July 1, 2026

★★★☆☆

The Toy Story franchise has always been one of the most critically acclaimed and audience-celebrated series of all time. The guiding light for what an animated movie can be, the films have always contained deeper themes and messages regarding love, parenthood, and growing up, introducing children and entertaining families with what can be, at times, very mature subjects for a movie about a group of plastic playthings.

Early on in Toy Story 5 (in fact, right after the title card), the infamous opening notes of “When She Loved Me,” by Sarah McLahan play, clueing the audience into where the focal point of the film will rest – Jessie. Despite previous beliefs that her abandonment arc might be resolved, it seems there are some deep-seated fears still plaguing the cowgirl doll.

The focus on Jessie was something the marketing played heavily on, and something I was concerned about prior to watching the movie. I wasn’t sure the film would be able to hoist itself up solely on her shoulders, despite the timely strength of its premise.

I was wrong. Jessie’s arc in this film is far and away the best aspect of the movie, carrying the emotional and thematic weight so often expected and even looked for in Pixar’s output. They find a way to personalize the technological stakes for Jessie, who sees old wounds resurface as she repeatedly realizes, through Woody, neighborhood toys, and Bonnie herself, just how real the tech takeover is. “It feels just like Emily all over again,” she laments to Woody over a walkie-talkie.

In a twisted (and slightly contrived) turn of events, Jessie and Bullseye find themselves back at Emily’s house, now inhabited by a new family (and set of new tech-toys, led by scene-stealer Conan O. Brien as Smarty Pants, the talking potty trainer). It’s here that the film does its best work, showing us that even though some events in our lives may be temporary and fleeting, and even some people might be that way too, the effect we have on each other is forever.

But these events and people are being experienced less and less by children as technology rises and its burdensome effects intensify. Multiple times the film shows kids and teens sitting, staring aimlessly at their tablets. It’s even used as a plot device for the toys to sneak around easily without being seen. Just when this portrayal begins to feel repetitive, the film takes a U-turn and finds an effective and heartbreaking way to tie it into the plot.

“(Tech) is making everyone act older, and grow up faster,” Jessie yells to another tech-based character at one point in frustration. And it’s true — in a scene sure to hit hard for anyone who was cyberbullied, or even used tech socially growing up, Bonnie finds herself ostracized by individuals she (and LilyPad, the antagonist iPad at the heart of the film) thought were her friends. Tech may advertise itself as bringing us together, but in reality, it’s never made us lonelier.

Pixar is wise, however, to not stop exploring the theme here. Tech has many great upsides, and while it doesn’t delve too deeply into the creative and educational aspects it offers, it argues that when used right, technology CAN be a social tool for good. Its argument, at the end of the day, is that technology amplifies humanity as it already is, so we must be active in ensuring we use it correctly, despite its innate temptation to be used passively and without thought.

This, however, is where the positives end. And don’t get me wrong, those are some great positives! It’s a timely and important message for children and adults alike that will get the stage it deserves, being delivered through one of the biggest movie franchises of all time.

But the film has its faults. A lot of them.

First of all, and this seems to be a problem that, while always evident in studio-produced fare, has been getting worse and worse with recent blockbuster installments (see: Supergirl). The film is far too fast. Until Jessie arrives at her old stomping grounds, the movie breezes through every plot point as fast as possible to get to the next one. Everything just happens with minimum reaction, and before the audience can register it, the next thing happens.

There was a sinking feeling as the first act raced along, watching this be Pixar’s first miss with Toy Story, finally ending their golden streak of perfect and near-perfect installments. Luckily, once Jessie walks into her old owner’s bedroom, we have time to breathe and understand what our characters are feeling and thinking, rather than just watching things happen.

A big part of this is that Jessie seems to be the ONLY main or supporting character ACTUALLY affected by the tech invasion. Buzz is far more concerned about his romantic feelings for Jessie and the next step he’s too scared to take, which, while giving him more to do than his abysmal arc in Toy Story 4, doesn’t connect much to the rest of everything going on. The rest of the toy cast is pushed aside and stored in the garage by LilyPad in a move that feels less like an actual consequence and more like a writer sidelining characters they don’t know what to do with. Our new characters are great, but they come at the cost of barely any time with our established cast, and the film suffers greatly as a result.

The biggest sin here is Woody. The writers knew you can’t have a Toy Story movie without the main character — nobody will come to it!

But they should’ve excluded the cowboy from the film’s proceedings, because he adds absolutely nothing of substance to the movie. In fact, the film would benefit from his removal entirely. He has no effect on the plot; his actions don’t have consequences; he doesn’t grow or change; he’s just there so Pixar could put him on the poster.

What makes this so infuriating, too, is that the film has many jokes at his expense—constant quips about Woody’s old age, his balding head, his beer gut. But that’s it. That’s all it is. When the film is so clearly about aging, being replaced and forgotten by something newer and trendier, how did they not think to have Woody represent that side? His reason for even being in the movie is one of the most contrived elements of the screenplay, which is a problem in itself.

Back after Toy Story 3, Pixar released a series of 30-minute, holiday-themed specials on TV. This feels like one of them, but stretched out into three times its length. We never truly feel the stakes of technology, despite the film working overtime very early on to paint it as a world-ending threat. Because all we see are reactions from the toys. The actual effects aren’t that detrimental. We’ve seen this story of being abandoned or forgotten four times already, and it’s hit harder each time before. The biggest threat we feel is from the dance kids Bonnie befriends with her tablet, not the tablet itself.

And of course, the film’s thesis is that technology is not innately bad. But that’s the assumption they want you to believe in the first half. “Toy’s time isn’t done yet!” Jessie says, and her excitement doesn’t help punctuate the tablet’s threat at all. It just feels like another fun adventure—like a nice 30-minute short. The emotional stakes should be higher, but they just aren’t.

You’ll also see I haven’t even mentioned the Buzz Lightyear Army plot. Which is because, sans one fun payoff of a very early line from the first film, the plot could also be totally cut from the film. They are certainly a good symbol to explore the helpfulness and moral compromise of tech, but it’s all just… there.

Director Andrew Stanton said this was the quickest Pixar film they’ve ever made. And you can certainly tell.