Lilo & Stitch

More than two decades after the original Lilo & Stitch crash-landed in the Disney universe with a surfboard, a suitcase full of heartbreak, and one of the most unlikely mascots in Walt Disney Company history, the long-awaited live-action remake has finally arrived, complete with sun-bleached characters, special effects, andheavier expectations than its modest 108-minute runtime would suggest. Directed by Dean Fleischer Camp, whose independent film Marcel the Shell with Shoes On was praised for its tenderness in its treatment of intimacy and loss, this new version makes it clear from the outset that it is a labor of sincere affection rather than an algorithmic reproduction. But affection, as this film teaches us, is only part of the equation. To truly recapture the charm and depth of the original, it would take the same rebellious spirit, the same sincere strangeness, and the same willingness to linger on emotional complexity. Instead, the film stumbles, often gently, sometimes awkwardly, through its well-worn plot, never really discovering why it needed to exist beyond comforting nostalgia and brand continuity.

The story's framework remains largely unchanged, perhaps too respectfully preserved to allow for the kind of creative reinvention that might have justified this adaptation as more than just a brilliant echo. Stitch, still voiced by the tireless Chris Sanders (in the original version), remains a joyful force of destruction born from the illegal experiments of Dr. Jumba Jookiba (Zach Galifianakis), a mad scientist in exile. After his interstellar escape, Stitch lands in the tranquil beauty of Kauaʻi, where he is adopted—by mistake, as a dog—by Lilo (Maia Kealoha), a six-year-old girl living under the strict guardianship of her older sister, Nani (Sydney Agudong). Grief weighs heavily on their household since the loss of their parents, and their fragile family structure is closely monitored by social services. The chaos that Stitch brings is, as one might expect, unsettling. But as in the original film, this version is not about chaos, but rather the healing that follows, the kind that can only come from a chosen family, stubborn resilience, and love offered freely, unconditionally.

What sets this film apart and ultimately gives it its emotional credibility is the way it shifts its center of gravity from Lilo to Nani. In the animated version, Nani was often a secondary character, a stressed-out teenager struggling to keep her head above water. Here, she is given full narrative freedom and transforms into a co-protagonist whose personal sacrifices (refusing to go to college, juggling multiple jobs, and enduring a bureaucratic system that constantly questions her abilities) are not only acknowledged but also allowed to flourish in a compelling narrative arc. Sydney Agudong proves to be a solid emotional anchor, particularly in the quieter scenes where Nani's youthful dreams collide with the relentless reality of adulthood imposed upon her. Her exhaustion feels real, and her attempts to be a competent mother are often tinged with heartbreaking futility. At the very least, this film deserves praise for bringing one of Disney's most understated and poignant characters to the forefront and giving her the screen time and emotional space she has long deserved.

Maia Kealoha, who plays Lilo with wide eyes full of wonder and a convincing dose of childlike quirkiness, manages to preserve much of what made the original character so endearing. She is unfiltered, sometimes unstable, often hilarious, and deeply vulnerable, a combination that could easily fall into sentimentality in the wrong hands, but here feels largely authentic. However, it's hard not to notice that by prioritizing Nani's growth, the film leaves Lilo slightly underdeveloped in moments where her complexity could have added more emotional nuance. Her relationship with Stitch, while touching at times, is less central this time around and lacks the unruly energy that made their original dynamic so subversive and joyful. Stitch himself, rendered with a slightly plastic but expressive CGI design, retains enough of his anarchic charm, even if he seems more contained here, his edges softened to better fit into the live-action world.

Dean Fleischer Camp's direction, while deeply sincere, is marked by a curious tonal conflict. His indie sensibility brings a welcome intimacy to certain scenes, but it often clashes with Disney's broader, more refined aesthetic expectations. The result is a film that oscillates between tender drama and flat visual storytelling, without ever really committing to either. The Hawaiian setting, which in 2002 was rendered with watercolor-like lushness and a keen sense of atmosphere and place, is disappointingly sterile here. Despite shooting on location, Nigel Bluck's cinematography rarely evokes the grandeur or emotional geography of the islands, and the lighting often reduces the vibrant natural palette to generic postcard images.  It's not that the film looks cheap, it just lacks the visual poetry that could have elevated it to a memorable work. The film's supporting characters, particularly the alien duo of Pleakley (Billy Magnussen) and Jumba (Zach Galifianakis), have been reimagined with mixed results.

 While the idea behind their disguises, which allow them to appear on screen for longer, is understandable from a production standpoint, it takes away much of the delightful absurdity that made them so popular with fans. Billy Magnussen brings a touch of humor to Pleakley's neurotic enthusiasm, but Zach Galifianakis plays Jumba in a surprisingly understated manner, stripping the character of his flamboyant menace and leaving a noticeable void in the film's comedic rhythm. Similarly, Cobra Bubbles, played by Courtney B. Vance, trades the mysterious and exuberant side of the original for a more down-to-earth bureaucratic authority, an intentional but not necessarily effective change. One of the most successful additions is Tūtū, played by Amy Hill, a wise neighbor whose brief appearances add warmth and cultural dimension, gently reminding us of the importance of intergenerational wisdom in overcoming adversity.

Technically, the film lacks depth and original inspiration. The editing often feels rushed, particularly in moments that should breathe, such as the iconic surfing sequence or Stitch's emotional turning point in the animal shelter cage. Dan Romer's score, while emotionally functional, lacks the cultural specificity and unique texture of Alan Silvestri's original work, although the chosen tracks, particularly the Elvis classics, still add a touch of nostalgia. A rearranged version of Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride, performed with brio and affection, is one of the film's highlights, but one can't help but feel that the film's most moving moments are often carried by the music and inherited memories, rather than by the originality of the new production.

This live-action remake of Lilo & Stitch is a sincere tribute rather than a true reinvention. It succeeds where so many recent Disney remakes have failed, by truly understanding the emotional DNA of the original work. It doesn't cynically attempt to modernize the story with timid gimmicks or chase after meaningless spectacle. Instead, it slows the pace, updates the context, and emphasizes the theme of emotional survival: family is not a static structure, but a fluid, messy, sometimes painful, but always resilient force. The film's mantra, ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, is as touching as ever, striking that sensitive chord where the loneliness of childhood meets the responsibilities of adulthood.

However, sincerity alone cannot mask the film's more general shortcomings. Like many of Disney's recent live-action productions, Lilo & Stitch ultimately feels like it was made out of obligation rather than bold creative intent. It's moving and often charming, but rarely surprising. For fans of the original, it's a bittersweet visit to old friends who now speak with slightly different voices and wear slightly less colorful clothes. For newcomers, it may come across as a family film with a lot of heart but little that is truly memorable. And for those weary of the wave of remakes, it will likely be just another entry in Disney's ongoing struggle to recreate the magic of yesteryear.

Yet if there's one reason this film is worth seeing, it's its sincere affection for its characters and those brief but intense moments when it dares to slow down, cry, laugh, and love. In those moments, Lilo & Stitch doesn't just remember the past. It pays homage to it. That alone makes it more than just a commercial exercise. It makes it, even if imperfect, a story that still deserves to be told.

Lilo & Stitch
Directed by Dean Fleischer Camp
Screenplay by Chris Kekaniokalani Bright, Mike Van Waes
Based on Lilo & Stitch (2002) by Chris Sanders, Dean DeBlois
Produced by Jonathan Eirich, Dan Lin
Starring Sydney Elizebeth Agudong, Billy Magnussen, Hannah Waddingham, Chris Sanders, Courtney B. Vance, Zach Galifianakis, Maia Kealoha
Cinematography: Nigel Bluck
Edited by Adam Gerstel, Phillip J. Bartell
Music by Dan Romer
Production companies: Walt Disney Pictures, Rideback
Distributed by Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures
Release dates: May 17, 2025 (El Capitan Theatre), May 21, 2025 (France), May 23, 2025 (United States)
Running time: 108 minutes

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