Why Toy Story 5 Is the Sequel Nobody Asked For (And Why I’m Buying the Merch Anyway)
by Hojo Roo, 6/3026
I saw the first Toy Story as a Mere Adult. When I was twenty five. I saw with the DoucheCanoe of my ex, and he hated it and it burned him out of Disney movies, which was another nail in the coffin of our relationship-marriage thingie.
And when I saw this title, I realized, for the first time, like ever, this was one franchise I have watched the entire library of in a theater. Even after that first miserable outing, I was able to get back out there and see the sequels, and, oddly motivated.
Now, as an educator, I spend my days trying to convince youth that there is life outside their screens.
As a bearded gay polar bear who also happens to be an unhinged, card-carrying, pin-trading Disney Adult, I spend my summers recovering by over-analyzing everything the House of Mouse puts out.
A few days ago, I wrote a glowing review of Pixar's Hoppers. In that piece, I talked about how Pixar continually achieves a gold standard of cinematic storytelling by taking massive, absurd risks (I mean, a girl brain-swapping into a robotic beaver? Genius, daring...if kinda not new). Hoppers proved that original stories still have a pulse in Emeryville.
So when I walked into the theater for Toy Story 5, I had my guard up.
Let’s be completely honest: Why on Earth was this movie greenlit?
I mean, really?
The Sequel No One Needed
I am at an absolute loss as to why this exists.
And to be clear, that is not a complaint about the quality. But seriously, who requested this?
Toy Story 3 gave us the most devastatingly beautiful, teardrop-stained closure a generation could ask for. Then Toy Story 4 came along, fractured the group, gave Woody his nomadic freedom, and wrapped it up again.
This isn't Star Wars. We weren't a fandom starved for forty years begging Disney to finish a legendary, pre-planned narrative arc for Luke Skywalker. No one woke up in a cold sweat saying, "But what are Bonnie's toys doing right now?!"
This is a blatant, unadulterated cash cow.
And yet... damn it, Pixar did it again.
Behind the wheel of this beautiful existential crisis is director and co-writer Andrew Stanton.
The plot—keeping it completely spoiler-free, I promise—revolves around our favorite toybox residents facing their most terrifying existential threat yet: The Screen. Bonnie gets a shiny new tablet, and suddenly, the traditional toys are relegated to the dark abyss of the floorboards. The tablet is a "LilyPad" named, aptly, "Lily." Bonnie seems to have trouble with her shyness and the screen offers some respite, but starts to dominate her daily existence.
Until a plot note of a sleepover hits and the world changes.
Again, novel, not what I expected.
Passing the Test with Flying Colors
As an educator, I am always analyzing media through a pedagogical lens. One of my favorite parts of Toy Story 5 is how elegantly it passes the Bechdel Test.
The Bechdel Test is a simple structural tool used to measure the representation of women in fiction. To pass, a movie must meet three basic criteria:
It has to have at least two named female characters...
Who talk to each other...
About something other than a man (or in this case, a male toy)
You’d be shocked how many blockbusters fail this incredibly low bar. But Toy Story 5 clears it with room to spare, specifically through Jessie and the new toy Lily, alongside the little girls (their "charges") they are trying to protect.
In a standout sequence, Jessie and Lily have a profound, beautifully written strategy session. They aren't talking about Woody, they aren't pining after Buzz Lightyear, but planning on problem solving to the success of other characters. They are discussing child development, emotional safety, and how to help their charges navigate a high-stress emotional hurdle. Watching these two strong female toys support each other and focus entirely on the well-being of the kids was a massive win. It’s exactly the kind of healthy representation I want my students seeing on screen.
Heck, some of their parents too.
The Tech Debate: A Brilliant Pivot
When the trailers first dropped, I’ll admit I rolled my eyes a bit. I thought, "Great, a 100-minute lecture about how 'phones are bad and kids these days don't know how to play in the dirt.'" As a teacher who battles the "iPad kid" phenomenon every single day, I get the anxiety, but media that just wags its finger at technology feels dated and out of touch.
Thankfully, the film pulls off a beautiful pivot.
While it hits hard on the consequences of overusing technology and letting screens babysit our kids, it doesn't demonize the digital world. Instead, the narrative shifts to show how technology, when used correctly, can actually bridge gaps, foster incredible creativity, and help kids connect. It moves the conversation away from standard boomer-esque tech-phobia and steers it toward a much healthier question: How do we teach kids to use these powerful tools responsibly?
The Final Verdict
Did we need Toy Story 5?
Absolutely not.
Was it born out of corporate necessity? 100%.
But leave it to Andrew Stanton and the brilliant minds at Pixar to take a corporate mandate and infuse it with genuine soul, masterful character dynamics, and a timely message that hits parents, educators, and Disney Adults right in the feelings.
I say, you know, give it a go, friends.
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