TOY STORY 4

This is Pixar doing what Pixar does best: dazzling craftsmanship in service of a story that actually means something. Woody's rescue mission for a nervous spork-toy named Forky becomes a meditation on purpose, loyalty, and what it costs to let someone you love go. Every character gets a real arc, and at least a couple get a genuine transformation — including the film's villain, who is changed by an act of redemptive self-sacrifice.

The cost is modest but real: several scenes with scary ventriloquist dolls and a rigged carnival game push into legitimately tense territory, more intense than earlier Toy Story installments. None of it is gruesome or bloody, but small children may need a hand to hold.

For nearly every family, this is an easy yes — bring tissues for the tears and reassurance for the youngest in the room. Watch it together, and expect to talk about it after.

Woody and the gang now belong to Bonnie, who — nervous about starting kindergarten — builds herself a makeshift toy out of craft-room scraps and a plastic spork: Forky. Forky is convinced he's trash. Woody isn't so sure. When a family RV trip sends Forky bolting for the nearest garbage can, Woody sets off to bring him home — and stumbles into an antique shop holding far more than lost toys.

Four stars means this is Pixar firing on every cylinder — visually and narratively. The animation is another leap forward even by Pixar's own high bar, but it's the storytelling that earns the top marks. Every character, down to minor players, gets a real arc; a couple of them experience genuine epiphanies rather than convenient plot resolutions. The film also finds real laughs alongside its tears, and the emotional beats land because the craft underneath them is so sturdy. It's hard to imagine a tighter script for a story this ambitious.

This is a very strongly Christian-inflected worldview, and it shows up in the film's bones, not just its dialogue. Self-sacrifice for the sake of others sits at the center of the plot, and the film's would-be villain is transformed — not defeated — by that same redemptive act. Loyalty and caring for others are treated as the highest goods a toy (or a person) can practice.

The film also takes purpose seriously. When Forky asks who gave him life, Woody doesn't have a theological answer — but he's certain every toy has one. That's a question the film raises better than it answers, but it raises it honestly, and it points toward something Scripture answers directly.

The story also charts a path toward "growing up" that lands, refreshingly, on monogamous, committed love: independence has its season, but the film's heart settles on faithful relationship rather than permanent autonomy. One character's wardrobe shifts — trousers during a season of self-reliance, a dress again once she reunites with the one she loves — track that same arc; read into it what you will, but the film's own compass points toward togetherness, not separation.

Every toy in this story is fashioned by someone else, for a purpose it did not choose and cannot fully see — a fair echo of Ephesians 2:10: "For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."

Pixar has done it again — a film with real laughs, real tears, and a story built on self-sacrifice, loyalty, and love that actually lasts. It's scary in a few spots for the littlest viewers, but for nearly everyone else, this is an easy family movie night. Worth the trip — use caution with very young children.