Coyote Vs. ACME: A smash riot

Coyote Vs. ACME (2025) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five); rated PG, for cartoon violence

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.6.26

Chuck Jones would be thrilled to bits.

 

When he and writer Michael Maltese co-created the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, for the 1949 Warner Bros. cartoon short “Fast and Furry-ous,” they likely thought this pairing would be a one-off.

 

Paige (Lana Condor) and her Uncle Kevin (Will Forte) are about the experience the
chaos that results from even a seemingly innocuous ACME product ... and they'd also
better be careful with what's inside that box.

As if.

That ingenious tribute to the silent-movie slapstick efforts of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd became — at the risk of citing the infamous oxymoron — an instant classic. 

 

Jones went on to direct 25 more theatrical shorts featuring the doomed efforts of Carnivorous Vulgaris (the Coyote) to catch Accelleratii Incredibus (the Road Runner), up to 1980’s “Soup or Sonic.” While the first dozen or so arguably are funnier and more clever than what followed, as a whole it’s still an awesome body of work.

 

I’m therefore delighted to report that director Dave Green and his team of writers — Samy Burch, James Gunn and Jeremy Slater, inspired by Ian Frazer’s hilariously deadpan 1990 humor piece in The New Yorker — have faithfully adhered to Jones’ wit, style and frenetic comedy pacing with this phantastic feature film.

 

Full disclosure: What follows is an unapologetic and shamelessly biased five-star review by someone who has, from the moment I was old enough to appreciate his work, long worshipped at the altar of All Things Chuck Jones ... and I now have no trouble adding this marvelously chaotic blend of live action and animation to that pantheon of cartoon comedy.

 

The premise here is as golden as it is simple. After the film opens on Wile E.’s most recent attempts to catch his prey — each failing, due (as always) to faulty engineering — the Coyote finally realizes that the blame, all these years, is not his. No, he has been the victim of dangerously defective ACME products.

 

The obvious solution: a product liability lawsuit.

 

But something even more sinister is afoot here. A prologue reveals that longtime ACME scientist Dr. Lorre — an intentional caricature of Peter Lorre, one of numerous movie stars lampooned in early Looney Tunes and Merry Melodies shorts — has become convinced that the work he has been doing, on the clandestine “Project Sisyphus,” is unacceptably dangerous. He manages to box up one mysterious item before being caught and — true to ACME form — forced to step into a small circular black hole. He vanishes, after which the hole is carefully rolled up and placed in storage (!).

Minions & Monsters: Almost overwhelming

Minions & Monsters (2026) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five); rated PG, for animated violent action and rude/macabre humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.5.26

Minions features always have felt less like a coherent film, and more like a randomly assorted collection of sight gags, but this one is particularly scattershot.

 

(It’s no accident that the Minions work best in cartoon shorts.)

 

Although the slyly duplicitous Goomi (the little green guy) has promised Minions James,
Henry and Ed that they'll find their desired monsters in a long-abandoned island cave,
getting there proves ... a bit hazardous.

On top of which, contrary to expectations raised by its title, the crucial monsters don’t appear until way past the halfway point.

Prior to that, writers Pierre Coffin and Brian Lynch have fun dumping the little yellow troublemakers into silent-era Hollywood, where they skewer — or reference — every iconic moment made famous by the likes of George Méliès, Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd and countless others.

 

(I do wonder, though ... will such material resonate with today’s moviegoers?)

 

The stage is set when the current Universal Pictures logo halts during mid-presentation, scrolls backwards, and then zips through its previous versions until arriving at the late 19th century dawn of cinema, with crudely animated, monochromatic Minions dancing on the screen.

 

The story proper begins as perky tour guide Olivia (voiced by Allison Janney) leads a group through a vast display of movie memorabilia. Sight gags abound even here, as a glass booth honoring George Lucas unexpectedly contains Lucas himself, trapped without his phone (and gamely voiced by Lucas).

 

Olivia builds to her big reveal of the two most famous figures in the entire museum: Minions James and Henry ... wholly unrecognized by anybody in the group. Appalled by this display of ignorance, Olivia begins an incredible saga that reveals how the official history of cinema is much weirder than what anybody has been taught.

 

The story begins in territory lifted from 2015’s Minions, as tribes of Minions voyage the Earth in prehistoric times, seeking to serve the world’s most despicable masters. One group, led by the disciplined and impatient Dick, has brief encounters with a massive, home-stomping cyclops and a Renaissance-era wizard.

 

Alas, in each case the impish, unfocused and invariably destructive Minions accidentally kill their temporary masters.

 

The imaginative James can’t keep his head in the game; much to Dick’s annoyance, he’s too busy drawing fantastical pictures of encounters with lurid monsters. (James doesn’t know it yet, but he’s in the process of inventing storyboards.) James therefore is shunned by the other Minions, with the exception of the loyal Henry, and the warm-hearted, hearing-impaired Ed, both of whom become best friends. (One struggles to imagine the finer points of Minion sign language.)

I Am Frankelda: Dazzling, but uneven

I Am Frankelda (2025) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five); rated PG, for dramatic intensity, scary images and fantasy violence

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

The imagination, craft and world-building in this fantasy — Mexico’s very first stop-motion animated feature — are off the chart.

 

I wish similar attention had been paid to the story.

 

After allowing her conscious self to be transported to Topus Terrentus (the Realm of
Terrors), Frankelda hopes that her lurid imagination will be enough to save
Prince Herneval's realm.

Even so, brothers Arturo and Roy Ambriz, who share writing and directing chores, have orchestrated a dazzling saga that plays on the (supposedly) thin line that separates reality from fantasy, truth from fiction. Neither can exist without the other.

The narrative is laden with 19th century Mexican culture, Day of the Dead folklore, creation myths and visual nods to the unsettling paintings of Leonora Carrington and Remedios Varo.

 

Art fans also will smile at the film’s opening tableau: a fantasy-hued nod to Rodin’s massive bronze sculpture, The Gates of Hell.

 

The result feels like a mash-up of Pixar’s Coco, Guillermo del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth, Henry Selick’s adaptation of Coraline, and Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride, Frankenweenie and Nightmare Before Christmas. That’s no surprise, since the brothers admitted — in a recent Los Angeles Times interview — that their lives changed after seeing a VHS version of the latter.

 

A lengthy prologue — set in 1866, in Mexico’s Real del Monte — introduces Francisca Imelda (voiced by Habana Zoé), an imaginative little girl who hopes to become a published author. We meet her on the sad day that her mother — who paints lovely landscapes — falls ill with what kills her soon thereafter.

 

This initial sequence is amazingly lush, despite the limitations of stop-motion work. The girl and her mother stand in a gorgeous field of swaying grass and flowers, with small creatures — a lizard and rabbit — hovering in the background. Tears flow from the girl’s eyes, when her mother collapses.

 

To comfort herself, Francisca writes fantastical stories about Herneval, the “Prince of Terrors” in Topus Terrentus (Realm of the Terrors). The girl’s grandmother, with whom she now lives, disdains this useless waste of time. The waspish old hag makes Francisca spend her days like a wage slave: cleaning up, darning clothes and every other chore demanded of her.

 

Unbeknownst to Francisca — and all human beings — Topus Terrentus and Herneval (Jules Presley) are real: He’s the son of King Ficturo (Beto Castillo) and Queen Veritena (Gabriela Cárdenas). All three resemble a regal cross between human beings and birds of prey.

 

Their realm is home to all of humanity’s fears; when Ficturo plays the immense harpspider — which connects to our Realm of Existence — he shapes human consciousness. The denizens of Topus Terrentus, in turn, are kept alive by the power of humanity’s nightmares.

 

Unfortunately, humans have become too sophisticated for the nighttime visions created by Procustes (Luis Leonardo Suárez) the Royal Nightmare Maker. His efforts have grown tired, stale and clichéd.

Toy Story 5: Absolutely perfect

Toy Story 5 (2026) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five); rated PG, for mild rude humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.21.26

The Toy Story franchise has been a marvel since the first film’s 1995 debut.

 

This fifth entry is the best thus far: a bold statement, considering the quality, imagination, voice talent, carefully sculpted characters, sentimentality and heart that long have been this series’ hallmark.

 

When an angry Jessie insists that newcomer Lilypad is useless with respect to helping
Bonnie make new friends, the quick-thinking tablet briskly signs up the little girl with
three schoolmates ... in a chat room.

Ah, but this one adds an oh-so-timely new element: topicality.

Andrew Stanton and McKenna Harris, sharing writing and directing chores, have challenged these beloved characters with an existential threat: impending irrelevance, due to the competitive, soul-sucking arrival of (gasp, shudder) screens.

 

Woody, Buzz, Jessie and all the other toys have long cherished their crucial role in helping young owners nurture their imaginations, while also shaping their social skills. When one owner successfully “grows up,” the toys are passed along to another, as when college-bound Andy lovingly introduced his toy friends to young Bonnie, at the end of Toy Story 3.

 

But the increasingly ubiquitous tablets threaten to break that chain, which our heroes aren’t about to tolerate. They’ve no desire to mimic Puff the Magic Dragon, who “sadly slipped into his cave.”

 

Although this story gives everybody plenty of screen time, Jessie is the focus. Cusack deftly conveys this character’s huge emotional arc.

 

That said, this film opens on a disorienting and unexpected note. Buzz Lightyear (voiced by Tim Allen) wakens in a strange place, during a dark and stormy night. Waves crash on a debris-strewn beach. He spots a huge, damaged container several yards away, apparently having fallen off a passing ship. 

 

Peering inside, he spots 49 more Buzz Lightyears. He activates them; they assemble en masse to scout the island. Sharp-eyed viewers might notice a fleeting glimpse of their spacesuit decals: “Hi-Tech Edition.”

 

(Hold that thought.)

 

Uncertain of their location, unsure of what to do, they equate a blazing star in the nighttime sky with their venerable “Star Command” ... and, hastily assembling a raft, set off to reach it.

 

Meanwhile...

 

Bonnie (Scarlett Spears) happily plays with her toys, putting them through adventures that (for the first time) we “see” through her imaginative eyes. The visual style of these playtime sequences are wholly different: a pastel, tactile, chalk-drawing technique that evokes animated child’s drawings. The impact is sweet, vibrant and mirthfully silly.

 

This gaggle of toys, led by Jessie and Buzz, includes her faithful horse Bullseye, Rex (Wallace Shawn), Mr. Potato Head (Jeff Bergman), Slinky Dog (Blake Clark), Forky (Tony Hale) and many other familiar faces.

 

Woody (Tom Hanks), Bo Peep (Annie Potts) and Combat Carl (Ernie Hudson) are elsewhere at the moment.

 

A Magnificent Life: An animated charmer

A Magnificent Life (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for occasional profanity, dramatic content and brief violence

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.29.26

Sylvain Chomet has made one of the most delightfully whimsical animated biopics you’re likely to see.

 

French novelist, playwright and filmmaker Marcel Pagnol — 1895 to 1974 — was an imaginative, forward-thinking Renaissance man in every sense of the term.

 

Whenever Marcel gets stuck, trying to extract a key event from long-ago memories, he's
assisted by a ghostly apparition of his adolescent self, who vividly recalls every detail.

In addition to being recognized as one of France’s greatest 20th century writers, he also was an early advocate of cinema upon seeing his first talkie, back in 1929. After coaxing Paramount Pictures to adapt his play Marius into what became one of the first French-language talkies, Pagnol founded his own film studio in 1932, where he often served as producer, financier, director, screenwriter, studio head, distributor and foreign-language script translator.

After shrewdly dismantling everything during World War II, in order to keep his work out of Nazi hands, in 1946 Pagnol became the first filmmaker elected to the prestigious Académie français.

 

And he wasn’t done yet, by any means.

 

Chomet continues to be remembered in this country for two marvelously imaginative animated films, 2003’s The Triplets of Belleville and 2010’s The Illusionist. Long an admirer of Pagnol, Chomet was delighted when asked by the man’s grandson, Nicolas Pagnol, to make a film based on Sylvain’s four-volume memoirs, published between 1957 and 1977 (the last one posthumously).

 

This film is the result: not quite full documentary, and not quite docudrama, propelled by a charming gimmick.

 

Events begin in 1956 Paris, as Pagnol (voiced by Laurent Lafitte) is approached by the editor-in-chief of a women’s magazine, who desires a literary serial that will recount the events of his childhood, his memories of early 20th century Provence, his first loves ... and everything else that captivated him, at the time.

 

Pagnol initially declines, musing “What’s the point of writing things, that people no longer wish to read?”

 

But that statement underestimates both the evocative, emotional power of his writing, and the degree to which he’s admired by the entire French population ... along with a rising fascination with the process of trying to recall all of his important moments and feelings.

Arco: Insufferably weird and unstructured

Arco (2025) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five); rated PG, and much too generously, for bleak dramatic intensity

Available via: Amazon Prime and other VOD options

By Derrick Bang 

Every year, it seems obligatory that one of the Oscar-nominated animated feature films is preposterously bizarre and unsatisfying, having attracted attention solely because of the way it looks.

 

When Arco attempts to fly without benefit of his crucial time-traveling gemstone, Iris
supplies the necessary weather conditions by blending the day's bright sunlight with
water spray from sprinklers and her hose nozzle. The result ... leaves much to be desired.

If imagination and visual razzle-dazzle were all that mattered, then this one would indeed deserve some of its many accolades.

But there’s the not-inconsequential matter of story, in which department this feature from French co-directors Ugo Bienvenu and Gilles Cazaux comes up seriously short.

 

In interviews, Bienvenu has admitted constructing Arco from a series of hand-drawn sketches, rather than a script.

 

That’s blindingly obvious, because — in terms of narrative — this film often is an incomprehensible and impenetrable mess. Additionally, its tone veers wildly from serious ecological cautionary tale, to bumbling slapstick farce. Those two don’t play well together.

 

Bienvenu shares scripting credit — such as it is — with Félix de Givry.

 

In the distant future — sources differ on 2932 or 3000, but neither is mentioned during the film — people live on circular, open-air platforms that jut out, like branches, from immense towers. Those are anchored on Earth somewhere far below, beneath an all-encompassing blanket of concealing clouds. 

 

Mention is made that this is “the great fallow,” intended to “let the Earth rest.” We assume some sort of ecological disaster, never specified.

 

Each family’s adult members periodically travel back in time, returning with single examples of a fruit, vegetable or spice, which are gene-sequenced and replicated, so that everybody can have lush gardens. Individuals traveling in this manner — which can take place only during a combination of rain and sunlight — leave a rainbow in their wake.

 

Animals never are mentioned, and (apparently) nobody has pets. But birds are in abundance, and people can talk to them (!).

 

The colorful animation style at times evokes Hayao Miyazaki, but his films always contain a cheerful warmth that’s utterly lacking in this cold, clinical, brooding story.

 

People sleep suspended in mid-air, under an anti-gravity light, in uniform-style pajamas and no blankets (which, frankly looks neither comfortable nor cozy).

Hoppers: Absolutely fabulous

Hoppers (2026) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five); rated PG, for dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.8.26

I didn’t think Pixar ever would top 2015’s marvelous Inside Out, with its clever blend of humor, pathos and gentle social commentary, wrapped into a wildly imaginative premise.

 

Having unknowingly violated the all-encompassing "pond rules" that govern this diverse
collection of animals, Mabel — her mind currently occupying the body of the cute
robotic beaver about to become a bear's lunch — is brought before the community's king.

But director Daniel Chong and co-writer Jesse Andrews have done the seemingly impossible: Pixar’s newest entry is even better. Proof positive, once again, that some of today’s best original scripts are attached to animated films.

You’ll laugh, cry, nod and marvel at this film’s similarly ingenious story, which also contains a slyly subversive message.

 

A brief prologue introduces animal-loving Mabel (voiced by Piper Curda) as an adolescent, during a failed attempt to free her school’s numerous classroom pets from their dismal lives of relentless poking and prodding. Banished for the rest of the day, then dumped into the sympathetic embrace of her beloved Grandma Tanaka (Karen Huie), the angry, humiliated little girl can’t understand why people don’t realize she was doing a good thing.

 

 Grandma Tanaka walks her to a large rock in a tranquil glade, which overlooks a pond.

 

“Be still,” her grandmother instructs. “Listen ... and watch.”

 

The silence soon is broken by bird songs and the hum of insects. The foliage rustles, as deer walk past; beavers happily work on the large dam that has created this pond.

 

The moment is magical, transformational. Many more such visits follow.

 

The story then flashes forward. Mabel, now 19, is an equally impassioned college student who constantly locks horns with Beaverton’s grandstanding, development-obsessed “Mayor Jerry” (Jon Hamm). He’s promoting his re-election bid with the promise of a new stretch of overhead highway that’ll improve commute time “by minutes.”

 

The final portion also will destroy Mabel’s beloved glade, along with its many wonderful memories. Mayor Jerry can get away with this, because the pond, dam and its wildlife — particularly the beavers — are long gone.

 

Mayor Jerry taunts Mabel, giving her 48 hours to somehow lure the beavers back, knowing full well that’s impossible.

 

Savvy viewers will wonder why all the animals left.

Zootopia 2: Another sure-fire hit!

Zootopia 2 (2025) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for action violence and mild rude humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.30.25

This was a brave gamble.

 

2016’s Zootopia was a perfect film, and (as I wrote, at the time), a work of subversive genius: an enormously clever project that functioned both as a charming, suspenseful and exciting adventure, and also as a compelling parable of tolerance and inclusion.

 

While doggedly pursuing a fleeing suspect through waterlogged Marsh Market, Nick and
Judy accept transport from a rather unusual source.

Making a sequel, and risking the possibility of tarnishing the original film’s reputation, seemed foolhardy.

But they pulled it off.

 

Trust the talent involved: Co-directors Jared Bush and Byron Howard have returned, along with all the key voice actors. Bush also has the sole writing credit, and his cunning script is another impressive blend of cheeky character interaction, suspenseful action set-pieces and sly references to real-world issues, once again set in an alternate animals-only universe that hilariously sends up human behavior.

 

This film’s overall look and settings are just as visually rich and detail-laden as its predecessor, once again stuffed with far more sight gags and little bits of sidebar business than can possibly be absorbed in one viewing. 

 

The core plot also involves a cheeky nod to 1974’s Chinatown, which is rather audacious on Bush’s part.

 

Events resume where they left off. Plucky bunny Judy Hopps (voiced by Ginnifer Goodwin) and street-smart con artist-turned-good-guy fox Nick Wilde (Jason Bateman) have become the newest partner team in Zootopia’s police force. This naturally annoys the much larger, more ferocious teams of Hoggbottom and Truffler (razorback hogs), Bloats and Higgins (hippos) and Zebro Zebraxton and Zebro Zebrowski (zebras, of course … and the coolest cops in the station).

 

Mindful of the high expectations under which she and her new partner are operating, and desperate to prove that their first success wasn’t a fluke, Judy naturally disobeys orders, much to Nick’s exasperated consternation. She recklessly follows another of her shrewd hunches, nearly ruins an ongoing investigation, and wrecks untold city property during the first of this film’s madcap chase sequences.

 

This naturally confirms the dismissive opinions of her razorback, hippo and zebra colleagues, and also earns a stern public scolding by exasperated Chief Bogo (Idris Elba).

 

Privately, though, Bogo tells Judy that he likes and respects her, but warns that her unchecked behavior could jeopardize the dreams of other rabbits hoping to follow in her footsteps. Elba’s softened tone, during this gentle caution, is note-perfect.

In Your Dreams: A lovely little fantasy

In Your Dreams (2025) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for fantasy peril and mild rude humor

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

File this one under the old warning: Be careful what you wish for … you might get it.

 

Directors Erik Benson and Alexander Woo have delivered an animated charmer — feeling a bit like Pixar Lite — which also serves as a gentle life lesson about sibling rivalry and messy family dynamics. Indeed, the moral here is the importance of recognizing that sometimes “messy” is the best one can expect.

 

Having figured out some of the means by which the "dream realm" operates, Stevie, her
younger brother Elliot, and his beloved stuffed giraffe, Baloney Tony — brought to
chatterbox life — find a highly unusual means of transportation.

The story — written by Benson, Woo and Stanley Moore — opens on an idyllic tableau, finding 4-year-old Stevie enjoying one of her favorite activities: making breakfast pancakes with her parents. All three are mutually devoted; Dad (Simu Liu) and Mom (Cristin Milioti) share a career as musical partners.

But as a slightly older Stevie (voiced by Jolie Hoang-Rappaport) laments, in voice-over, this is merely a fondly remembered dream. “This is a disaster movie,” Stevie insists. The actual disaster? The fourth addition to the family, her younger brother Elliot (Elias Janssen), with whom Stevie is forced to share a bedroom.

 

Elliot is a relentless pest, forever in Stevie’s face, whether trying to impress her with silly magic tricks, or simply being annoying. He clearly just wants to be an important part of his big sister’s life, but she isn’t interested. She’s much more concerned about the growing rift between her parents; Mom is interviewing for a job that would take her elsewhere, while her husband — still hankering for songwriting fame — refuses to leave. To Stevie’s additional annoyance, Elliot is oblivious to this potential crisis.

 

For Stevie, dreams are a way of fixing things in the real world. A storybook depiction of a magical dream being known as the Sandman fascinates both children; after reciting a mystical incantation, they discover that they can remain conscious while dreaming, thereby altering what they experience. 

 

“Find me,” the distant Sandman intones, “and your dreams will come true.”

 

The resulting “dream realm” is a chaotic whirlwind of imaginative pocket lands populated by colorfully exaggerated creatures concocted from real-world experiences. Elliot’s beloved stuffed giraffe, Baloney Tony (Craig Robinson), bursts into wisecracking life, serving as a snarky, often frightened Greek chorus to subsequent events. Frolicking breakfast foods hearken back to Stevie’s cherished memories of making pancakes with her parents.

The Twits: An overcooked disappointment

The Twits (2025) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated PG, for rude humor and mild dramatic intensity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

Roald Dahl has been treated remarkably well by filmmakers over the years, whether his charming children’s classics (Matilda, the various versions of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory), his slightly grimmer kid-lit novels (Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Witches) and even his sardonic, adult-oriented short stories (The Wonderful World of Henry Sugar and Three More).

 

Beesha and Bubsy are horrified to discover, via a television news broadcast, that they're
accused of stealing the blue-furred Muggle-Wumps ... when, in fact, the children freed
the creatures from inhumane captivity.

I therefore approached this one with enthusiasm, particularly since co-director Phil Johnston brought us the cleverly entertaining Zootopia and Wreck-It Ralph.

Sigh...

 

This adaptation of Dahl’s 1980 children’s novella is a mess: poor pacing, dumb songs (by David Byrne, no less), a cavalier approach to the source material, protracted filler sidebars, and the bewildering — and wholly inappropriate — insertion of a contemporary American political message, all of which make the film’s 98 minutes feel like an eternity.

 

On the positive side, the animation style definitely suits the material, and the voice talent is fine. Too bad Johnston and co-scripter Meg Favreau didn’t give the actors better dialogue. The inane butt jokes quickly wear thin.

 

The saga emerges as a bedtime story, told by mother bed bug Pippa (voiced by Emilia Clarke) to her young son, Jeremy (Sami Amber). The boy occasionally interrupts the narrative to ask a question, or express concern about what will happen next. It’s a cute framing device ... and, arguably, the film’s strongest asset.

 

Credenza S. Twit (Margo Martindale) and James T. Twit (Johnny Vegas), an ill-kempt, spiteful and mean-spirited married couple, are united in mutual hatred. They gleefully pull pranks on each other, such as hiding a frog in their bed, or making a spaghetti dinner with worms. They live in the otherwise bucolic community of Triperot, in a gadget-laden house (a shameless lift from Wallace & Gromit).

 

But the otherwise misanthropic couple share a devotion to their passion project: a theme park dubbed Twitlandia, laden with outrageously dangerous rides such as flying outhouses and a rickety Ferris Wheel. Everything is powered by the tears of three exotic, blue-furred simians known as Muggle-Wumps: magical creatures long ago captured from Loompaland, named Marty (Timothy Simmons), his wife Mary (Natalie Portman) and their young daughter Mandy (Israa Zainab).

 

When stressed — which is frequent — Marty barfs up ambulatory furry stress balls, known as Florbnorbles, which cause all manner of mischief.

 

The Bad Guys 2: Animated mayhem

The Bad Guys 2 (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for mild rude humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.3.25 

This madcap adventure is even more fun and crazed than its 2022 predecessor.

 

Director Pierre Perifel definitely knows how to pace an animated action comedy, and he has ample support here from co-director JP Sans, elevated from his previous role as head of character animation for the first film.

 

The Bad Guys — Mr. Wolf, Mr. Shark, Mr. Snake, Mr. Piranha and Ms. Tarantula —
triumphantly confront the owner of the prized item they're about to steal.

The script, by Yoni Brenner and Etan Cohen — once again drawing from Australian author Aaron Blabey’s popular children’s graphic novel series — contains the same blend of visual slapstick and subtly sly adult humor. (As co-producer Diane Ross suggests, in the production notes, the goal is an homage to complex heist films, with a soupçon of Quentin Tarantino.)

As before, this romp takes place in an alternate universe with humans existing alongside anthropomorphized animals, where an oversized shark can successfully impersonate a man half his size. (It’s all in the costume and attitude, donchaknow.)

 

Rather than open precisely where the previous film concluded, we first get a flashback prologue that shows our quintet of bestial baddies — Mr. Wolf (voiced by Sam Rockwell), Mr. Shark (Craig Robinson), Mr. Snake (Marc Maron), Mr. Piranha (Anthony Ramos) and Ms. Tarantula (Awkwafina) — operating at their larcenous best, stealing a one-of-a-kind sportscar from a vain gazillionaire’s heavily guarded mansion.

 

The resulting vehicular pursuit — totally breathless — showcases Jesse Averna’s imaginative smash-cut editing.

 

Back in the present day, however, the former Bad Guys — having gone straight as the first film concluded — are finding it impossible to obtain gainful employment, since everybody associates them with their larcenous past. The only bright spot is Gov. Diane Foxington (Zazie Beetz), who helped secure the group’s freedom, and now maintains an arm’s-length flirty relation with Mr. Wolf.

 

The world still doesn’t know that Foxington formerly was an elusive master thief known as The Crimson Paw.

 

Local law enforcement — headed by the anger-prone Police Commissioner Misty Luggins (Alex Bornstein) — is baffled by a series of high-profile burglaries conducted by an elusive and never-seen culprit. The most troubling detail is that this mysterious individual has been using some of the distraction gimmicks once employed by The Bad Guys ... which turns Luggins’ attention to them.

 

Realizing it’s in their best interest to help identify the actual criminal, Mr. Wolf employs his detail-oriented observational skills to suss out the likely next target for theft; he realizes that all stolen objects were made of a precious metal dubbed MacGuffinite (and there’s a sly joke for long-time movie buffs).

 

Alas, in an increasingly complex escapade laden with double, triple and even quadruple-crosses, things often aren’t what they seem. Except when they sometimes are.