The box is open again. Just when you thought the tape was secure, the hinges rusted shut, and the childhood nostalgia safely shelved, Disney found a crowbar. Pixar dropped the first trailer for Toy Story 5 this morning, and it feels exactly like what it is: a $200 million insurance policy.

We’ve been here before. Twice. Toy Story 3 gave us the perfect, tear-jerking funeral for childhood. Toy Story 4 was the unnecessary but charming epilogue that gave Woody a retirement plan. But in the kingdom of the Mouse, nothing stays dead if it still has merchandising potential. The new hook? The toys aren’t fighting a sadistic neighbor or a bitter bear smelling of strawberries. They’re fighting the iPad.

It’s a bit rich, isn't it? A studio that basically invented the modern digital animation industry is now wagging its finger at the glowing rectangles in our pockets. The trailer shows Woody, Buzz, and a reunited gang looking on in horror as their new kid—or whatever replacement child they’ve been assigned this decade—stares blankly into a tablet. It’s the "iPad Kid" phenomenon, rendered in 4K.

The irony is thick enough to choke on. Pixar, a company built on the back of Steve Jobs’ vision and Silicon Valley’s raw processing power, is positioning itself as the guardian of "real" play. They want us to feel bad about screens while we watch a movie made entirely of pixels on a screen we probably bought from a company that also sells tablets. It’s a cynical play for the hearts of Gen X and Millennial parents who are currently losing the war against YouTube Kids and Cocomelon.

The plot seems to hinge on a specific conflict: the toys are becoming obsolete not because they’re broken, but because they’re boring. A plastic cowboy can’t compete with the dopamine hit of a TikTok algorithm. There’s a scene in the trailer where a high-tech, sleek robotic toy—presumably the film’s "villain"—is controlled via an app. It’s a classic Pixar move. Take a modern anxiety, give it big eyes, and hope the audience ignores the fact that Disney+ is currently streaming on the very devices the movie is vilifying.

Let’s be real about the trade-off here. Pixar used to be the place where original ideas went to become icons. Now, it feels like a factory dedicated to maintaining the fleet. Since 2020, the studio has struggled to find its footing. Lightyear was a confusing meta-mishap that nobody asked for. Strange World vanished into the ether. Even their wins, like Turning Red or Soul, were relegated to streaming-only releases during the pandemic, teaching audiences that Pixar wasn't an "event" anymore—it was a Sunday afternoon distraction.

Toy Story 5 is a retreat to safety. It’s a calculated move to juice the quarterly earnings and remind shareholders that the intellectual property bin isn't empty yet. The budget is massive. The rendering is, as expected, terrifyingly good. You can see the individual scuffs on Buzz’s plastic wings and the microscopic threading on Woody’s vest. The tech has moved so far that the toys look more real than the humans, which only adds to the uncanny valley of the whole endeavor.

But what’s the cost of this particular brand of safety? Every time they bring Woody back, they chip away at the ending of the last one. If "goodbye" doesn't mean "goodbye," then why should we care about the stakes? The trailer promises a "bold" new direction, but the boldest thing Pixar could have done was leave these characters in the attic. Instead, we’re getting a feature-length lecture about screentime from a company that wants you to buy the digital Deluxe Edition the moment it leaves theaters.

There’s a specific kind of friction in watching a legacy brand try to stay relevant by attacking the very medium that keeps it alive. It’s like a car manufacturer making a commercial about how great walking is. It feels performative. It feels desperate. And yet, we’ll all go. We’ll buy the popcorn, sit in the dark, and watch the plastic cowboy save the day one more time.

Maybe the toys will win. Maybe the kid will put down the tablet and pick up the plastic. But when the lights come up and the credits roll, every parent in that theater is going to reach into their pocket and pull out their phone to check the time.

I wonder if the toys feel the glow from inside the screen.