Toy Story 5: A Chance at Redemption After the Disappointment of Toy Story 4

Quentin Tarantino’s assessment was spot on. While he may have opinions on Paul Dano, it was his interview with Bill Maher that truly resonated with me. He argued that Toy Story 3 served as the definitive conclusion to the saga, leaving him with zero desire to witness a continuation. “I don’t care if it’s good,” he remarked regarding Toy Story 4. “I’m finished.”

When that clip began circulating a few years back, I realized I should have adopted the same mindset. Much like my refusal to acknowledge any Terminator entry following T2, I had intended to compartmentalize the franchise, treating the third installment as the absolute finale.

Yet, my history with these playthings runs deep. I was only nine when the original Toy Story premiered, and I’ve dutifully followed every sequel, short, and holiday special since. I vividly recall the visceral anxiety of the furnace scene in the third film and the genuine catharsis of Andy surrendering his treasures to Bonnie. Now, as an adult toy collector sharing these films with my own child, the connection feels intensely personal. When Toy Story 4 arrived, the magnetic pull of nostalgia was too strong to resist. I bought a ticket, hoping for more magic.

In hindsight, I wish I had stayed home.

While Toy Story 4 is undeniably a technical marvel—boasting sharp writing and breathtaking animation—it left me with a lingering sense of melancholy rather than joy. The primary issue lies in the character bloat. While introducing new faces is a series tradition, this was the first time the newcomers effectively erased the legacy characters. I actually enjoyed the new additions: Forky is a brilliant, absurdist meditation on the nature of sentience, and the comedic timing of Ducky, Bunny, and Duke Kaboom is impeccable. However, within a limited runtime, their prominence relegated Hamm, Rex, Slinky Dog, and the Potato Heads to the background as little more than glorified extras.

The handling of Mr. Potato Head felt particularly hollow. Following the passing of the legendary Don Rickles, Pixar utilized archival audio to preserve his performance—a move they celebrated publicly. Yet, in the finished product, the character is nearly mute, offering only generic exclamations. Given the vast library of Rickles’ work, the result felt like a missed opportunity to truly honor his contribution.

Then there is the Bonnie problem. The emotional weight of the third film’s ending rests on the promise that Bonnie would cherish these toys, particularly Woody. By the fourth installment, however, Woody is neglected, eventually forgotten in a closet. While it’s realistic for a child to favor new toys or “outgrow” old ones, the narrative structure makes Bonnie feel like she betrayed Andy’s trust. It’s a strange resentment to hold toward a fictional child, but the film positions her as the catalyst for Woody’s existential crisis.

While these plot points are logically sound, they feel narratively superfluous. Toy Story 4 felt like a “victory lap” that accidentally tripped, slowly chipping away at a legacy that was already perfect. It echoed the frustration of a television series that persists long after its natural conclusion.

The most jarring narrative choice was Woody’s ultimate departure. The film works hard to justify his decision to become a “lost toy” with Bo Peep, but it feels like a betrayal of the franchise’s core philosophy. Woody’s identity was always defined by his loyalty to the “Roundup Gang.” In Toy Story 2, he famously refused to break up his family. In Toy Story 4, he does exactly that, abandoning Buzz, Jesse, and the others. While the trilogy’s end was about Andy growing up, this ending felt like Woody walking away from the family he spent decades protecting.

That discomfort has lingered with me since 2019. For years, I’ve hoped for a fifth chapter to mend what was broken: to bring Woody back to the fold and restore the original ensemble to their rightful place.

Fortunately, the first teaser for Toy Story 5 offers a glimmer of hope. Seeing Rex, Hamm, and Mr. Potato Head (now voiced by Jeff Bergman) featured prominently suggests a return to the ensemble dynamic. The plot—revolving around the intrusion of modern technology into a child’s playtime—feels like a relevant, contemporary conflict for Bonnie’s era. I’m also intrigued by Jesse potentially taking the lead, as she possesses the emotional complexity to carry the story.

Most importantly, the trailer confirms a reunion. My only hope is that this time, the separation is temporary. The Roundup Gang simply isn’t whole without its sheriff.

Source: Polygon