There’s a difference between a family-friendly film and one made exclusively for children. The latter is akin to jangling keys, pretty images, and empty messages designed to be forgotten the moment they’re consumed. Once upon a time, Disney actually knew the difference: their oeuvre set the standard for a new breed of “four-quadrant” storytelling, parsing out tough themes with a heady mix of charm and movie magic. But that charm has long since faded, and the troubles seemed to begin once the company stopped innovating and instead looked back to its greatest hits.
More than 100 years since the House of Mouse opened its doors, immolation is now the order of the day, with Disney’s latest batch of live-action remakes printing nostalgia on demand. They’ve got plenty of heart, but no soul, and certainly no grasp on what made their predecessors such hits. Disney is more than its catchphrases and fluffy mascots; it should strive for more than empty remixes. But why traipse into new, dangerous territory when the bare minimum will do, and your cutest, fluffiest mascot — the one that surely drives millions in toy sales — is ripe for reappraisal?
With Lilo & Stitch, Disney moves away from its ‘90s renaissance and looks into the new millennium for something to remix. This era is, admittedly, akin to a forgotten stepchild: for all its gutsy experimentation and its embrace of 3D animation, it produced more duds than hits. If not for Lilo & Stitch, Disney might have written the whole thing off. But the 2002 film was something of a miracle, a sharp pivot from the storybook earnestness the company had been courting with tales like Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin. It actually had the gall to poke fun at the empire that Disney had rebuilt the decade prior, introducing its titular blue alien as the destructive force set to tear it all down and build something new.
Stitch certainly achieved his mission, creating a new kind of fairytale and defining the next generation of Disney lovers. But in the past 30 years, this force for chaos has essentially become the establishment, his hard edges softened to better serve as the new Disney mascot. He’s sold as a plushie. He’s worn on T-shirts. Most of us have forgotten what he’s meant to represent, and that includes Disney itself. Bringing Stitch into “live-action” unfortunately does nothing to reclaim the spirit of the original cartoon. The chaotic mean-streak that once defined the film has been smoothed over entirely, leaving an empty, if kid-friendly, diversion in its wake.
Like most Disney offerings, Lilo & Stitch obviously isn’t all bad. Even at its lower points it’s able to coast by with copy-paste allusions to its predecessor. Its opening moments are especially referential: the film speeds through exposition at a breakneck pace, introducing “Experiment 626” to an alien council aghast by his existence. Here we also meet his creator, Jamba (a miscast Zach Galifianakis), who’s less an egotistical mad scientist than a wise-cracking neurotic. When 626 slips his wardens and flies into hyperspace in an escape pod, Jamba is immediately assigned to bring him in. He’s headed for Earth, a planet that’s too great a resource to simply be wiped from the map.
All this is explained in rapid fire from another alien reject, Pleakley (Billy Magnussen). An expert in Earth science, and one of the film’s better sources of comic relief, Pleakley becomes an unlikely resource in the hunt for 626. He teams with Jamba and they immediately give chase — 626 was programmed to destroy, and there’s no telling what he’ll get up to on Earth if left to his own devices. Their sense of urgency makes sense on paper, but these moments lack the tension or propulsion they need to properly set the stage. Director Dean Fleischer Camp does fine evoking the visuals that made the original Lilo & Stitch so iconic, but his adaptation of this story feels too slippery, and too neat, to stick.
That nagging feeling persists even after the film finds what could be considered its groove. Maia Kealoha is a stand-out as Lilo, the unsuspecting human girl who will soon become 626’s partner in crime. She too is an outsider in her tight-knit island community. She makes easier friends with fish than the girls in her hula class, and her intentions bring more trouble than good. This version of Lilo is a long way from the feral, wounded protagonist of the animated original, but Kealoha’s performance is delightful enough to distract. The same can only occasionally be said of her on-screen sister, Sydney Elizebeth Agudong. Her take on Nani feels ripped from a Disney Channel Original. Her world is falling apart in her hands long before Stitch crash-lands on her island, but her reaction to the tumult is too casual to reinforce the gravity of this story.
It doesn’t take long for Stitch to fulfill Jamba’s mandate and wreak havoc — but in the interest of self-preservation, he disguises himself as a dog and finesses his way into Nani and Lilo’s home. The timing couldn’t be worse: as Lilo’s guardian, Nani is struggling to make ends meet and keep her sister in custody. Stitch only adds to the chaos, but without an appropriate counterbalance, all the slapstick and destruction gets old fast. Too often does Stitch feel superimposed into the narrative, distracting from the gravity of Nani and Lilo’s situation when he ought to be supplementing it.
The visual effects only add to the disorder. Though they’re as good as it gets for Disney, it’s hard to believe that our human characters are actually interacting with a goo-goo eyed blur of blue fur. It’s impossible to achieve the fidelity one gets with straightforward animation; everyone is trying their damnedest, but they can’t justify the effort of this remake.
That disconnect may be the biggest issue with Lilo & Stitch. There’s a lot to like in this adaptation: when the cast clicks, they really click, with scene-stealers like Magnussen, Amy Hill, and Courtney B. Vance buying wholeheartedly into this world. At turns, it’s just as heartfelt as the original... but it still bears the curse that every one of Disney’s live-action remakes carry: Lilo & Stitch is sanitized beyond recognition. Its most iconic lines remain, but what was once a difficult, even adult story is handled with kiddie gloves here. It can’t challenge its characters or its audience, leaving us with warm and fuzzy feelings, but none of the conflict that made its predecessor the breath of fresh air Disney needed, and still needs today.
