I sat in the theater Saturday morning with a host of families, preparing to watch the fifth Toy Story film in a franchise that has been going strong for 30 years. Among the audience were many the same age as I, including a father showing off his old Burger King toys to his peers, which I recall fondly from childhood. There’s nostalgia, sure, but also an assurance for family viewing from a film saga that somehow manages to find the heartwarming in a silly tale of sentient toys. In this regard, Toy Story 5 lives up to what makes these films great, even if the toy box has become so ridiculously crowded that even I think a handful should be donated, if only to avoid constantly recasting the voice actors who did not live to see how far these characters have come.

It’s more impressive that this film manages to find a touching story despite cramming in so many characters and plotlines under two hours. The toys of Bonnie, now under the leadership of Jessie (Joan Cusack), must grapple with their latest rival: technology invading the bedroom in the form of the tablet Lily (Greta Lee). Like every new innovation, another toy apocalypse is upon the old gang, where the terrified Rex (Wallace Shawn) fears extinction, and the cynical Hamm (John Ratzenberger) cracks a joke about the storage they’re bound for. Amid all this, Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) weighs a marriage proposal to Jessie, and Woody (Tom Hanks) still tries to assert control, even though he’s more of a visiting sheriff.

The central toys are, thankfully, more concerned with their purpose for Bonnie than with their own preservation. Sure, they fear that the rise of digital screens will reduce playtime and damage Bonnie’s ability to connect with her peers. This is why Lily is a more compelling villain than in previous films: a toy not bound by bitterness at being disposable, but by a pompous belief that she serves a better purpose than the toys she illuminates over. The abundance of tech might not be enough to form relationships in which unintended byproducts develop within Bonnie’s group chat. But the world of technology also has its abandoned and bitter, as with the potty-training device Smarty Pants (Conan O’Brien), finding new life through the philosophy of toys and playtime, albeit with some potty jokes that thankfully didn’t annoy.

The avoidance of demonizing or idolizing technology is rather surprising in a film this overloaded with everything. While there isn’t a reduction in the core themes, there’s so much else that gets reduced to snuggly make its way into this film. Jessie still has unresolved thoughts about her previous owner, prompting her to revisit the passage of time and reflect. New animal friends, like a helpful horse and a messy pig, become tame by the toys, working their way up from dogs. There’s also an entire subplot of high-tech, synchronized Buzz Lightyear toys that go on their own little adventure through a world they don’t fully understand, especially with their first words being “Star Command.” Keep in mind that nearly all characters from the previous film return for this sequel, along with a dozen new ones, ranging from the potential human friend Blaze (Mykal-Michelle Harris) to the GPS hippo toy Atlas (Craig Robinson) and kid camera Snappy (Shelby Rabara). So many toys continue to be added to this saga that might as well adopt the battle cry of Bebe’s Kids: “We don’t die, we multiply!”

As a sequel that reiterates the plight of toys fearing the trash and the accumulation of textural grime from their adventures, it’s slightly surprising how well these movies hold up, even if this is one of the weaker entries. There’s a cramped quality to how much it tries to wedge into its absurd ensemble, but it still delivers the most important emotional beats that ring true. It’s easy to get choked up at Bonnie’s somber feelings of being shamed among her tech-obsessed peers. There’s some amusing charm in the imaginative playtime sequences, ranging from spy thrillers to wedding dramas with twists aplenty. While many characters are severely reduced (including many returning toys without dialogue), those occupying the foreground still manage to crack smiles and evoke some tears, even without the decades of investment behind these inanimate objects that have been granted personality.

Toy Story 5 still has a playful and thoughtful allure, even with the wear and tear more visible this time around. While this is certainly the lesser of the five films, it’s tough to be hard on a film that still has enough heart to evoke tears, though in a lower volume than in previous pictures. Like an old electronic toy fished out of clutter, it’s remarkable how operational these films remain, with as much attention paid to the focus on the cultural shift in childhood play as the intricate details of this smaller world. The computer graphics might’ve improved, but the generational devotion to creative play remains as persistent, engaging, and hilarious as ever. These toys still have some play left in them, even with all the dust and scuff.

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