Lilo & Stitch: Maika'i loa!

Lilo & Stitch (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for mild dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

I’ve not been a fan of Disney’s live-action remakes of its animated classics, many of which feel like bloated cash grabs — March’s Snow White being Exhibit A — but this one is a happy exception.

 

Bringing her new "pet" to a fancy luau, where her older sister is working, proves to be a
disastrous idea ... which Lilo (Maia Kealoha) is about to discover, to her dismay.

Director Dean Fleischer Camp has retained the buoyant energy that made this new production’s 2002 predecessor so much fun, while writers Chris Kekaniokalani Bright and Mike Van Waes have enhanced the Hawaiian cultural element.

That said, this film’s super power is the sparkling performance by young star Maia Kealoha, graced with impressively natural acting chops. She owns this film ... and that’s no easy feat, given the competition from her manic, blue-furred, deer-eared co-star.

 

This displaced extraterrestrial is brought to amazing life via visual effects supervisor Craig Hammack’s team, and the finely tuned skills of puppeteer Seth Hays (whose work we’ve enjoyed, as one of Grogu’s puppeteers on The Mandalorian).

 

Granted, I miss the lush, hard-painted watercolor animation of the 2002 film, which enhanced the lyrical beauty of the story’s Hawaiian setting. But credit where due: Camp and production designer Todd Cherniawsky have carefully given this (mostly) live-action romp its own island vibe, which gets additional dazzle thanks to cinematographer Nigel Bluck.

 

Even the animal shelter — which plays a key role in this story — was “dressed” in one of the buildings within the lush 700+ acres of Fong’s Garden Planation, in Kaneohe, Oahu.

 

But the story actually begins far, far away, during a United Galactic Federation tribunal on the planet Turo, conducted by the imperious Grand Councilwoman (voiced by Hannah Waddingham). The accused: egotistical, villainous scientist Jumba (Zach Galifianakis), who has violated all manner of laws by creating a dangerous biological creature known only as Experiment 626, intending it to be the ultimate weapon.

 

It's indestructible, lightning-swift, ferociously smart and adaptable, and incredibly strong, despite its diminutive size. Alas, it’s too smart; sensing the nature of these proceedings, 626 escapes its escape-proof cage, hijacks a small spacecraft and — by chance — sets the heading for an insignificant distant planet known as “Eee-rth.”

 

The pragmatic Grand Councilwoman is in favor of vaporizing the planet, once 626 arrives, until she’s reminded that Eee-rth is the sole habitat of a protected galactic species: the mosquito.

 

She therefore orders Jumba to head to Eee-rth, in order to “clean up his mess.” He’ll be supervised by the overly enthusiastic Pleakley (Billy Magnussen), a mid-level Galactic Federation administrator with unrestrained fan-boy interest in otherworldly life and culture.

Mack & Rita: Body-swap redux

Mack & Rita (2022) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for sexual candor, drug use and occasional profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

This is a modestly entertaining rom-com fantasy … when it gets out of its own way.

 

Actress-turned-first-time-director Katie Aselton tries much too hard at times, particularly during an off-putting first act that smacks of desperation. She tolerates the over-acting and breathlessly exaggerated line deliveries that suggest she and the cast don’t entirely trust Madeline Walter and Paul Welsh’s script.

 

"Aunt Rita" (Diane Keaton, center), encouraged by the younger self within her old body,
attempts to make the most of a group exercise session

Matters aren’t helped when the flow constantly is interrupted by Leo Birenberg’s overstated score and a paralyzingly loud assortment of raucous pop tunes. Or by the fact that Walter and Welsh open their story with a tiresome dog-pee incident. (Isn’t it time to retire this sight gag for eternity?)

Things improve as the tone settles down, and the story establishes its identity. By the final act, the actors have settled into their roles; the characters have grown on us, and the conclusion — although blatantly obvious throughout — is rather sweet.

 

Fledgling author Mack (Elizabeth Lail), with one published book under her belt, struggles — under the “guidance” of her smug and condescending agent (Patti Harrison, thoroughly obnoxious) — to generate “content” for a social media realm of influencers and “likes.” And she wonders: Is this really writing? (Answer: Of course not.)

 

The situation is worsened by Mack’s inherent nature; she’s an “old soul” in a young body, having been raised by a grandmother who encouraged her interest in retro clothes and genteel manners. None of this is appropriate behavior or attire for the wedding plans being made for longtime best friend Carla (Taylour Paige), who has arranged a “gal pal” weekend Palm Springs retreat with party-hearty posse buddies Sunita (Aimee Carrero) and Ali (Addie Weyrich).

 

Aselton obviously encouraged Carrero and Weyrich to be as aggressively unpleasant as possible: a challenge they embrace with enthusiasm. One wonders: Are they supposed to be funny? If so, they miss by a mile.

 

Worn down by too much drinking and clubbing, Mack opts out of a flash concert, choosing instead to investigate the offer of spiritual relaxation in a tent set up in an otherwise vacant lot. (You gotta just roll with this.) Much like Doctor Who’s TARDIS, this tent is much larger on the inside; Mack cheerfully parts with her credit card in order to embrace her true inner self in a “regression pod” that looks suspiciously like a recycled tanning booth. (You really gotta just roll with this.)

 

After screaming her desire to become the 70-year-old she knows resides inside her, Mack gets her wish; when she emerges, fresh-faced Lail has been replaced by Diane Keaton.

 

Although disorientation and hysteria seem a reasonable first response, Keaton wildly overplays these early scenes, to a degree that’s embarrassing.