We had my aunt, uncle, and cousins over at my parents’ house for dinner the other week. At one point, my preteen cousin, visibly bored, began nagging my uncle for his iPhone. “Why didn’t you bring yours?” my uncle asked.When I was a child, adult dinner parties were where boredom became a coming-of-age experience. You watched The Big Lebowski (1998) or American Pie (1999) for the first time in the basement — unlike phones, movies are shared experiences — discovered a new record, or had an older kid teach you about the raid on Entebbe using green army men. Later, perhaps, you had your first beers. Children today seem more likely to park themselves on the sofa and lobotomize themselves with internet slop. This is the anxiety into which Pixar’s Toy Story 5 arrives. The franchise returns for a fifth installment with what amounts to a pithy observation in search of a plot. The heroes of Toy Story have weathered a string of crises worthy of Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series — Seldon Crises, as they were known. First, the legacy toys risked displacement by Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), the flashier and cooler toy; then by Andy himself, who aged out of childhood; and now, finally, by all-capable technology in the form of tablets and phones, offering instant and constant gratification that cowboy dolls and plastic spacemen cannot hope to match.