The Movie That Changed Everything
When Toy Story premiered in 1995, it wasn’t just another animated film. It was the first feature-length movie made entirely with computer animation. At the time, the idea sounded almost absurd. Could a whole movie really be made without hand-drawn frames?
Pixar proved that it could. More than that, they proved that technology could tell a story with as much heart as any Disney classic. Woody, Buzz, Rex, Hamm. They weren’t just pixels; they were characters we believed in.
It changed animation forever. Every studio had to rethink what was possible. Without Toy Story, there’s no Shrek, no Frozen, no modern animation as we know it. Its influence extended beyond just being the first computer-animated feature film; it set a new standard for storytelling and character development in the animation industry.
An Intimate Story in a Big World
For all its groundbreaking technology, the real genius of Toy Story was its intimacy. It wasn’t about saving the world. It was about jealousy, friendship, loyalty. It was about feeling like you’ve been replaced.
That’s why it connected so deeply. Woody’s panic over Andy loving Buzz more wasn’t just a toy’s problem. It was a human one. Every kid, every adult, has felt that sting of being left behind.
For my husband and me, that intimacy made the story feel personal. We weren’t just watching toys on screen, we were watching our own fears and hopes, wrapped in plastic and voiced by Tom Hanks and Tim Allen.
From Us to Our Kids
Our Toy Story collection started as a fun couple project. But over the years, it became something bigger. Our kids grew up with Woody and Buzz, not just on the screen but on their shelves.
Passing that collection down wasn’t just about toys; it was about sharing a piece of ourselves. It was a way of saying: this mattered to us, and we hope it will matter to you too.
And in a way, that’s what Toy Story itself is about, passing things on, watching them be loved again, even when they’re no longer new.
The Sequels: Endings and New Beginnings
When Toy Story 3 came out, I thought it was the perfect ending. Andy saying goodbye, Woody moving on. It felt bittersweet and complete. My husband agreed.
And then came Toy Story 4. I loved it. He didn’t. For me, it was another layer. Woody finding a new purpose with Bo Peep. For him, it felt unnecessary, like Pixar didn’t know when to stop.
And now, Toy Story 5 is on the horizon. I’m torn. Do we need another chapter? Or are we just afraid to let go?
Because the truth is, the story already gave us closure. Everything that follows feels like opening a scrapbook that you've already finished. Beautiful, but maybe not needed.
Does the Animation Still Hold Up?
Here’s the other thing about Toy Story: watch it now, and the animation looks rough. By 2025 standards, the textures are stiff, the faces a little plastic. It doesn’t sparkle the way modern CGI does.
And yet, it’s still a marvel. Not because it looks perfect, but because it was first.
That said, I can’t help but wonder: should Pixar reanimate it? With today’s tools and even AI, could they rebuild the movie so it looks as smooth and stunning as anything made now?
It’s not just about slapping on a 4K remaster. The original animation style was limited by the technology of the time. If they redid it today, it could look wildly different.
But then again, would it still be Toy Story? Or would it lose some of that early, blocky magic that makes it feel like 1995 in the best way?
Why Thirty Still Matters
Thirty years later, Toy Story is still more than a movie. It’s a touchstone. For animation, for storytelling, for families like mine who built little rituals around it.
It’s proof that innovation doesn’t have to come at the expense of intimacy. It’s proof that even a story about toys can hit harder than a story about kings or superheroes.
And maybe that’s why we keep coming back. Not just because of the sequels, or the re-releases, or the collectibles. But because when we watch Toy Story, we don’t just see Woody and Buzz. We see ourselves, our families, our memories.
The Story We Keep Passing On
So here’s where I land: I don’t know if we need Toy Story 5. I don’t know if reanimating the first film would ruin it or renew it.
What I do know is that thirty years later, the story still lives in my house. In the collection on the shelves. In the memories with my husband. In the joy my kids get from discovering Woody and Buzz for themselves.
That’s the magic of Toy Story. It never really belonged to Pixar. It belongs to us. To everyone who grew up with it, passed it on, and found a piece of themselves in a cowboy and a space ranger.
And thirty years on, that feels like the real story.
