In Toy Story 5, the franchise’s famous toys band together with a few new technological devices to help their kid, Bonnie, make a friend. The film cleverly unpacks the balance between screen time and playtime. But the inclusion of a potty-training device results in lots of toilet humor and a few feints toward foul language. And Bonnie’s playtime sometimes toys around with traditional gender roles.
Most little kids love their toys. But most little kids also love their tablets.
These Wi-Fi-enabled devices have been steadily invading every bedroom in every home in 8-year-old Bonnie’s neighborhood. Forgotten toys from those homes have warned Jessie the cowgirl (Bonnie’s favorite toy) that once tech invades Bonnie’s home, Jessie and her pals can say goodbye to playtime.
“The age of toys is over!” one cast-aside toy wails.
Woody the cowboy, a former toy of Bonnie’s, can confirm that theory: He and his crew of street toys have been finding more and more abandoned toys in the wake of this technological surge.
But don’t take Woody’s word for it: Just peek inside any window and you’ll find kids and parents alike sporting a blue-light stare as they engage with their screens.
Only device-free Bonnie seems untouched by that blue screen’s glowing allure. She still loves her toys, and for that, Jessie is grateful. But it also presents a bit of a problem for Jessie. If children are only interested in tapping away at their devices, then what hope does a screen-free kid like Bonnie have of making friends?
“How are they supposed to make friends if they aren’t even looking at each other?” Jessie wonders.
Jessie’s not the only one who’s noticed how hard it’s been for Bonnie to make friends. Bonnie’s parents have picked up on that struggle, too. And although they certainly have their reservations, they think they might have a solution.
It’s time for Bonnie to get a device of her very own: a tablet called Lilypad.
Toy Story 5 addresses many of the promises and perils of technology. For parents in particular, it really shows how important it is to find a balance between screen time and playtime. But for kids themselves, it might offer some reflective lessons, too.
Bonnie’s new Lilypad (Lily for short) indeed connects her with other tech-savvy kids. Bonnie is able to arrange playdates and sleepovers. And a parent-approved chat feature even allows her to talk to her peers and participate in inside jokes.
However, we also see how screen time takes over Bonnie’s life.
Like the other kids in her neighborhood, Bonnie becomes glued to her tablet, making it even more difficult for her to engage with children away from her screen. So, Lily helps Bonnie to make friends by connecting her with girls from dance class. But when those “friends” start to make fun of Bonnie in their group chat, it leaves the little girl feeling wounded.
More and more, Bonnie starts to feel like she doesn’t belong. She abandons her traditional toys and retreats into her tablet. But it doesn’t fulfill her. The games she plays engage her eyeballs, but not her heart.
When Bonnie’s parents catch on to the damage the tablet is doing to Bonnie’s self-esteem, they disable the group chat feature for a while (a great, if belated, decision), but they’re at a loss for how to help Bonnie. They know she feels left out and friendless; the Lilypad was supposed to help with that. But when Lily fails to deliver on the promise of friendship, things start looking dire indeed.
Luckily, that’s where Jessie and the gang step in.
Jessie understands Bonnie. She knows that what Bonnie really needs is a silly and imaginative friend—someone who plays with toys the way that Bonnie plays with toys. And while Jessie is initially hesitant to solicit the help of the very tablet that caused this technological mishap to begin with, she comes to realize that devices are not inherently evil.
Lily, it turns out, loves Bonnie just as much as Jessie does. She only ever wanted Bonnie to make friends and reach her developmental goals. She certainly never intended to expose Bonnie to cyberbullying. So when Jessie proposes a plan that will help Bonnie make a true friend, Lily is willing to do whatever it takes to help.
By finding balance between screen time and playtime, between devices and toys, Bonnie eventually does make a friend—someone who she doesn’t have to change her personality or playtime habits for, someone who likes Bonnie just the way she is. And as a result, Bonnie’s toys do not get abandoned, and neither does Lily. They all find a way to work together toward Bonnie’s happiness (and developmental goals) in harmony.
Jessie spends much of the movie terrified that Bonnie will abandon her. Flashbacks show that Jessie is still contending with the trauma of being forgotten and then donated by her first owner, Emily. She feels like she never mattered to Emily, and she worries that the induction of technology will render her obsolete to Bonnie. But Jessie finds closure in this film, realizing that all kids eventually grow up and move on—but that doesn’t mean that toys like Jessie didn’t matter. (And savvy parents of growing or grown children may feel a little of Jessie’s anxiety and, ultimately, joy, as they watch, too.)
Characters band together to help each other and help others in need. Bonnie’s parents are very loving, and her mom offers some sage advice about friendship. We see Bonnie’s toys and devices alike make sacrifices to ensure what’s best for Bonnie.
In the Toy Story franchise, toys are sentient beings capable of moving around on their own and talking to each other. But it seems to be in every toy’s nature to be as good of a companion to children as they can be. And part of that involves “freezing” whenever a human walks into the room. Indeed, a battalion of new Buzz Lightyear toys instinctively falls to the floor when they first encounter humans, not even realizing what they’re doing. (Though we do know from the first film in the series that toys could, if they wanted to, talk to human children—and likely create years of therapy in the process.)
During a pretend wedding ceremony, Bonnie dresses up one of her toys as a priest, complete with a mitre. (He earlier says that he was “ordained” as a “haunted priest” during one Halloween-themed play session.) There’s a reference to dinosaur extinction.
It’s been long-established in the Toy Story franchise that Woody is in love with a shepherdess called Bo Peep. Similarly, the space cadet Buzz Lightyear and Jessie have been in a romantic relationship since their meet-cute in the second film.
In this film, those relationships are still at play (no pun intended). But Buzz struggles to work up the courage to ask Jessie to marry him. When Jessie realizes Buzz’s intention, she saves him the trouble by kissing him, letting him know that he’s stuck with her forever now.
During playtime, Bonnie performs wedding ceremonies between her toys, and those ceremonies seem to hold real significance to the toys involved. They even kiss at the end of the weddings. Although when one ceremony gets interrupted by an “ex-wife,” that element, at least, seems to purely be a part of Bonnie’s imagination.
In one playtime wedding, the groom (who is wearing a kilt) gets walked down the aisle to meet his bride at the altar, instead of the other way around. (The bride dramatically dips the groom as they head in for the sealing kiss.) In another, the couple, comprised of a spork and knife, kisses after they’re pronounced “man and knife.”
Bonnie pretends that her toy dinosaur, Rex, has been poisoned, and she appoints Buzz to give Rex the “kiss of life” repeatedly to save “her.” (It’s worth noting that while Rex’s voice is that of a male, Bonnie has never heard Rex’s movie voice, and it’d be natural for Bonnie to cast Rex as a female dinosaur.) A male toy called Combat Carl is dressed up in a tutu—presumably a result of child’s play. Elsewhere, another male toy joins several female toys for a “girls’ weekend.” When Woody shows up to help his pals in a poncho, someone asks why he’s wearing a dress.
In case you didn’t know, toys can take quite the beating. They jump out of windows and off moving vehicles without taking a scratch. They tackle each other to the floor during arguments without breaking. A shipment of Buzz Lightyear toys apparently crashes on a deserted island. The Buzzes survive, battling the elements to make their way back to civilization.
During playtime, Bonnie pretends that someone poisoned one of her toys.
A group of toys, not realizing that they’re meant to be a child’s plaything, arm themselves against humans with makeshift weapons (mostly kitchen utensils), though they never use them.
An abandoned toy, overwhelmed by the tech takeover, appears to give up on life. He gives himself over to be eaten by a squirrel—and he falls dramatically from a tree—but other toys rescue him.
A girl’s pet pig is named Jimmy Dean after the famous sausage brand. We learn that Bonnie’s pet lizard is named Sammy #2 because Sammy #1 died. (In the credits, we learn of a “Sammy #3,” as well.)
Technically, none. However, we’re introduced to a potty-training device called Smarty Pants. Smarty winds up being the (ahem) butt of many jokes throughout the film, as well as a few double entendres. For instance, in a moment of shock, Smarty says, “Flush me.” During playtime, he adopts a moniker that sounds like the s-word—and he draws attention to the euphemism by repeatedly correcting its pronunciation. Elsewhere, someone else starts to say Smarty will “wipe your a–,” but they’re cut off before that last word can be said.
Someone says, “what the –” before they’re cut off. We also hear “darn,” “jeez” and “oh my gosh.” We hear some name-calling, including “stupid” and “losers.” Someone shouts out, “Curse technology!”
Jessie favors some colorful exclamations, such as “jumping Jehoshaphat,” “golly gee willikers” and “cheese and crackers.”
None.
There are a number of toilet-humor jokes in the mix, most relating to the potty-training device Smarty Pants (whom you can read more about in the Crude and Profane Language section). We see poop emojis and hear references to passing gas.
We see just how invasive screens are in the home. Parents and kids alike seem to be constantly glued to them. When Bonnie gets Lilypad, she becomes almost zombie-like. Her dad is also very attached to his screen, and his own distraction may lead him to overlook Bonnie’s screentime habits as a result.
And speaking of those screentime habits, while Bonnie’s parents initially tell her that there will be strict screentime rules, they never seem to enforce those rules. And we later learn that Lily’s screentime limit cannot go lower than one hour.
Although their actions are altruistic, the toys and devices alike sometimes use Wi-Fi capabilities without their owner’s knowledge, even masquerading as other people in messages. Sometimes this causes trouble—indeed, it’s the reason Bonnie gets cyberbullied to begin with—but it also connects Bonnie to a stranger online. Things work out in the end (the stranger in question is a 9-year-old girl), but it certainly raises some hackles.
We see just how devastating the screen takeover can be. Bonnie and another little girl are both reduced to tears after screens impede their attempts at making friends. Kids make fun of Bonnie for playing with toys, calling her a baby. This infuriates Jessie, who thinks that electronic devices cause kids to grow up too fast. She notes that one 9-year-old’s bedroom looks like that of a teenager.
There appears to be a reference to the TV-MA rated show Bridgerton.
“Toys are for play, but tech is for everything,” we’re told in Toy Story 5.
Depending on how you look at it, that statement might ring very optimistic or very eerie. Many of us can recognize how much our devices have to offer. We might love how they provide opportunities to connect or games to unwind.
But as Jessie says, “Games are not the same as play.”
For a kid, playtime is about make-believe. It’s about using your imagination to create something from nothing. It’s about taking boredom and turning it into meaningful memories.
But if you’re constantly glued to a device that promises you’ll never be bored or disconnected again, you may find it difficult to engage away from your beloved screens.
It’s about balance, the film seems to say. Tech is great for a lot of things, but it’s not the be-all and end-all—certainly not for friendship. So use your devices when it makes sense, like setting up a playdate. But once playtime begins, screen time should end. And kids should be left, not to their own devices, but to their own imaginations.
Toy Story 5 is fairly family friendly, but there are a few hiccups to be mindful of. Namely, there are a lot of toilet-humor jokes surrounding a new character called Smarty Pants, a potty-training device. Because of him, we hear quite a few near-uses of explicit language, including the s-word and a-word. (Someone says, “flush me,” but that one will likely go over the heads of most youngsters.)
Kids’ playtime can also get a bit silly and perhaps become more suggestive than some parents would prefer, especially if those parents are sensitive to Disney’s recent history regarding LGBT issues. While the gender issues we see here might easily land in many a child’s make-believe playtime, families should take note: These are issues that Disney and Pixar could’ve easily avoided. For instance, at a pretend wedding, a kilt-wearing groom gets walked down the aisle instead of the bride, who’s waiting for him at the altar in her cowgirl getup.
Those moments will be largely navigable for many families, though I would understand if parents felt that it just wasn’t worth the hassle. After all, the original Toy Story wasn’t nearly so edgy. Still, for fans of the franchise, this film will likely feel resonant and poignant, especially in today’s tech-saturated landscape. It’s funny and heartfelt.
And if you’re anything like me, you might even find yourself trying to explain to your 10-year-old nephew why you’re crying happy tears as the film’s credits roll.
Emily studied film and writing when she was in college. And when she isn’t being way too competitive while playing board games, she enjoys food, sleep, and geeking out with her husband indulging in their “nerdoms,” which is the collective fan cultures of everything they love, such as Star Wars, Star Trek, Stargate and Lord of the Rings.
