IN DEFNESE OF LEAPFROG'S LILYPAD

Controversy has struck regarding a reproduction of Toy Story 5's LilyPad, a LeapFrog ("Explore & Learn") collectible tablet, which is devoid of any viable, Internet capacities. (It's a rudimentary, learning device with basic avenues to explore.) Critics say that the item's existence nevertheless contradicts the movie's message. 

For the record, I'm not keen on new-fangled phones, tablets, laptops and so on for youngsters, if those youngsters are to be zombie-fied by them: i.e. kept from engaging in artistic activities, playing outside, watching entire movies, reading entire books and by gosh, making friends of a rambunctious, skin-one's-knee nature.  

LilyPad represents the cold lure that keeps kids entrapped by endless, sporadic searches. Jessie's denouncement of the device is, therefore, understandable (if not just), and yet something happens toward the end of the movie that changes the situation.

LilyPad has a revelation about Bonnie and joins her toys so that she may bond with Blaze. On this basis, LilyPad needn't be eliminated from Bonnie's life, only limited. 

This approach  jives. When I was a kid, there was great concern about those of my kind watching too much television. Doing so could prove detrimental, or so the consensus said, though most youngsters did engage in activities beyond such. It was a matter of finding the ideal balance under parental supervision. Why couldn't the same be applied to LilyPad and her ilk? 

Toy Story 5 tackles that question, and yet it seems that critics of LilyPad's representations (whether through LeapFrog or any of the Mattel offshoots) are inclined to condemn the intent. Did they doze off at the movie's most pivotal point? 

LilyPad is a character in an ongoing franchise, whether perceived as a villain or ultimate friend. Representations of the character should be part of the extensive, Toy Story line and wanting to ban the character from it is plain silly.

I challenge LilyPad's castigators to rewatch the movie (the entire movie), and then tell me I'm wrong.😌

I SAW TOY STORY 5

Each time a new, Toy Story arrives, I wonder how it can outdo (or at least equal) the last. I've been pleased with the consistency, and the latest chapter continues the trend. 

With that said, The Twilight Zone-influenced Toy Story 4 seemed to close the gates on a reunion. That led me to believe that Toy Story 5 would, in fact, be a prequel, but lo and behold, it extended well into future. However, by that design, it does steals some thematic zest from the previous entry (with characters having gone separate ways in pursuit of new destinies) and seems awkward with Woody and Bo Peep's unexpected (though welcome) return after a two-year tarry. 

Nevertheless, it is what it is, and in this chapter, written and directed by McKenna Harris and Andrew Stanton, Bonnie at least shows more depth, receiving (of all ironic catalysts) a frog-fringed tablet called LilyPad (in response to the devices all the other kids possess), and thus begins Bonnie's spiraling obsession and a period in which she's anything but true to herself. 

Though Buzz and Woody again skid to the forefront, it's anti-tech Sheriff Jessie (accompanied by Bullseye), who takes the lead, concerned by the device's hypnotic influence. Through a series of silly mishaps, she returns to her original (ranch) home, but beyond rekindling some tender memories of her first owner, Emily (inserted via flashbacks), Jessie finds an outgoing, toy-and-horse-loving girl named Blaze, who inspires her to have the common-denominator gals bond and perhaps, in the process, gain their lasting acceptance. 

The idea that "I count for something," and "I hold worth" enters every nook of Toy Story 5, with a combination of good-natured humor and plenty of pathos. When Bonnie and Blaze do align, a friendship blooms, solidified by the toys, as opposed to consuming, tablet tech. 

The need to cling to old friends, while making new ones (including Conan O'Brien's toilet-training Smarty Pants) is an important, common thread in the Pixar/Disney franchise, as well: a seasoned standard set by the Woody/Buzz/Andy dynamic. Perhaps this is why the stories are so identifiable, for who among us doesn't want to be loved, and who among us has, at one time or another, feared we might be replaced? 

LilyPad presses this fear. The device isn't quite 2001's smooth-talkin' HAL, but employed for much the same sinister purpose. In a related sense, Lilypad represents an addictive crutch and with that, a blaring lack of intimacy, even while luring Bonnie with enticing excesses: a V'ger of sorts, flanked by vast, multiple facets, but in heart and soul, vapid. Nevertheless, unlike the Star Trek entity, Lilypad has no desire to find a creator or become something more, but then again ... 

Jessie recognizes LilyPad's manipulative motive, which is why she wishes the toys to dominate, and they do, empowered by an army of high-tech Buzzes who join the fight against the conniving, electronic pad. Compromise, however, becomes the dangling solution, but it's how we arrive at that pivotal point that makes the trip worthwhile.

Even if Toy Story 5 wasn't a necessity, it strengthens the saga's ongoing stream, with an angle that's not only truthful, but in the end, as profound and touching as any prior chapter. I accept and respect that, and I'm confident fans of the series will come away with the same sentiment.