In other words, Bonnie gets a tablet. Called Lilypad, it is a cute-ish gadget (Greta Lee), at least from the outside, with a green bezel topped by a smile and two gaga eyes. It looks like a frog swallowed an iPad or maybe the reverse, and while that sounds as creepy as its authoritarian demand (“Let’s play!”), Bonnie is soon as zombified by its screen as the other tots across the city, their faces bathed in eerie blue-white light. The machines have come for the children, which upends Bonnie’s toys, including her favorite, Jessie (Joan Cusack), a cowgirl. Like Woody, Jessie has a pull string and looks like she was manufactured when the filmmakers were kids (or older); like him, she is very capable of coming to the rescue.
The cast adds bounce and pathos to their words; one of the more genuinely poignant things about this movie is that while time has only lightly scuffed the toys themselves over these many years, you can hear its passing in the voices of the performers, Hanks and Allen in particular. Cusack’s vocal performance, with its Chicago flavor and clipped enunciation, is also a treat and sings even when the dialogue doesn’t. Bonnie is a sympathetic character, but the filmmakers seem only marginally interested in her, which shows. It’s no wonder that the most emotionally and visually vivid sequences involve Jessie, including in a few flashbacks and in some striking animated play sessions that look like they were hand drawn in pastel.
There is only so far that the filmmakers — who work, after all, at a famously technologically innovative studio — can push this story. And so, predictably, they simply stop pushing and instead wiggle around the thornier issues while spending too much time on another dreary Pixar romance. More happily, Stanton and team introduce a few other newcomers, including a plucky girl, Blaze (Mykal-Michelle Harris), who has a halo of springy hair and her own toys, an action figurine in what looks like a pink tutu included. Blaze adds a welcome jolt to the proceedings, which, despite some high-flying moves, never achieve liftoff. It’s fine, pretty and amusing, but if no one’s heart seems in it, perhaps it’s time to make way for other toys.
Toy Story 5
Rated PG for mild peril and existential despair. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. In theaters.
