‘Lilo & Stitch’ (2025) Review: Nostalgia Can Only Carry So Far But Stitch Remains a Lovable Rascal [C+]
To call the flood of Disney’s live-action remakes of their animated classics cynical would be far, far too generous. Words like “scourge,” “artistically bankrupt,” and “waste of time” spring to mind upon reflection. The endeavor, which began with the billion-dollar gross of Tim Burton’s heinous reimagining of Alice in Wonderland, has produced around 20 films, but you could count on one hand- arguably one finger- the number of films that have pierced the culture to a degree even close to that of the films on which they were based. Almost all of these films are less remakes and more iconographic cosplay, giving audiences fleeting dopamine hits at the sight of the familiar. “Recycled” is even too nice a term to describe what The Walt Disney Company has been doing with their legendary IP. It has been an unworthy salvage job, discarded ideas from the past rushedly repackaged with little regard for the consumer. Alas, the consumers have flocked to the theaters, regardless, and Disney’s quest to make what’s old new again trudges forward with the remake of the most recently released film, to date, with a “new” take on 2002’s Lilo & Stitch. The animated original may be Disney’s last great hand-drawn film, combining huge heart, fantastic design, and sci-fi antics to create a property whose legacy continues to grow (just go to a Disney park – it’s Stitch swag as far as the eye can see.) Unsurprisingly, 2025’s Lilo & Stitch can’t fully live up to its predecessor, but it does make enough of an impression on its own, especially in an emotional swell of a third act, to earn its keep, even if it regularly leans too hard into nostalgia.
The story of Lilo & Stitch is one of friendship and personal discovery, featuring the unlikely bond between a six-year-old orphan, Lilo, and Stitch, a genetically-engineered killing machine that is equal parts cuddly and scary. When Stitch, then known just as Experiment 626, escapes the custody of an intergalactic governing body, he crash-lands in Hawaii and is forced to assimilate, to one degree or another, to life on Kauaʻi while he plots his next escape. Stitch decides to take on life as a dog and is adopted as a rescue by Lilo, living with her older sister, Nani, who is having trouble keeping a job and is under scrutiny from social services. Lilo is a bit of an outcast among her peers and Stitch has never had anything resembling a friend; even as the stakes of Stitch’s fugitive hunt continue to ramp up, the connection grows stronger, resulting in moments of tenderness and honesty, which remain present in the live-action film. This is, in large part, because of the two lead performances and Stitch’s stellar presentation.
Newcomer Maia Kealoha plays Lilo with the appropriate snark and energy, while also inhabiting an underlying fragility so essential to the character’s pathos. She has a magnetic pluckiness without the off putting “theater kid energy” that undermines so many child performances. Opposite her is Sydney Elizebeth Agudong as Nani, who has an innate integrity to her performance, as well as a parallel pain to that of Kealoha’s as Lilo. Nani’s character is actually more fleshed-out in this film than in the animated version, as we get a much better sense of her goals and dreams beyond raising Lilo. Those two lead human performances are very good, but Stitch is the straw that stirs the drink and he is seamlessly transitioned to the world of live-action in the film. Stitch is a masterwork of character design, as he can oscillate between a movie monster and a cute sidekick at the drop of his hat. Sharp, scary teeth? Countered by soft, gentle eyes and a dog’s nose. Adorable, expressive ears? Take a chunk out of one of them to show that he’s been through the wringer. All of this existed when he was drawn and it translates wonderfully when he moves to CGI. He is much fuzzier here than his traditional depiction and they leave no stone unturned with regard to emotional pliability, giving him raccoon-like shading around his eyes that shrinks and expands to further underline his mood at any given moment. The movie running twenty minutes longer also gives Stitch a chance to show off his more threatening side that was mostly implied in the previous iteration. It should be mentioned that Stitch is voiced, as he was in 2002, by the original film’s co-director, Chris Sanders, whose performance was so good more than 20 years ago that they had no choice but to get him to reprise the role. The voicework possesses the same balance as the design, as Sanders can convey a real sense of nastiness as well as unabashed yearning as the character. Stitch feels like a true being inhabiting the world of the film, rather than a series of ones and zeros added in post-production.
It isn’t all snowcones and sunshine for the film, though, as it is so regularly bogged down by shot-for-shot, note-for-note recreations of some of the fan favorite moments from the original film that merely remind the audience of that thing they have already seen (and mostly make them wish that they were watching the old version, instead.) The often expressionistic visuals that separate Lilo & Stitch from so many of the Disney films of its era simply cannot be replicated the way this film attempts to replicate them. Take, for example, the opening credits, which in the animated film open with a school of fish enveloping the entire screen. Nothing but fish on the screen, acting as a curtain revealing the world to the viewer. It is an electric opening that establishes the film’s relationship to both color and nature. In Lilo & Stitch (2025) it’s sort of just a handful of fish scattered across the screen; more or less mediocre nature documentary footage. It evokes the memory of seeing that awesome thing, which ends up making the interpretation in live-action deflating, more than anything. The film trips over this hurdle several more times, failing to understand that the innate differences between live-action and animation make attempts to interpret many of the 2002 film’s greatest moments utterly futile.
Additionally, the film is visually flat and uncompelling. Even casual viewers will notice how the film’s aesthetic reflects that which we associate with television rather than film. It almost feels like the theater forgot to turn motion blur off, at points. Director Dean Fleischer Camp’s only other feature film was A24’s Marcel the Shell with Shoes On, a stop motion film, and one has to wonder if the learning curve to fully live-action filmmaking wasn’t overcome. Cinematographer Nigel Bluck is a relative journeyman, but his uncinematic work here is frustrating, to say the least. Lilo & Stitch will sit nicely alongside so many of the sheen-riddled Disney+ originals like it when it hits streaming in a few months.
Try as it may to buckle under the dull visuals and cheap tricks of the Disney Remake Machine, Fleischer Camp’s film peaks in the final act with moments reminiscent of E.T., really capturing a sense of dread. In many ways, Lilo & Stitch is a refreshing throwback to the movies of the 80’s and 90’s in which dread was not only allowed but encouraged in children’s films. It often has the energy of a Home Alone or The Iron Giant; big, broad, goofy villains (played admirably here by Zach Galifianakis and Billy Magnussen) and (sometimes pretty scary) hijinks galore, but always keeping the protagonists and heart at the center of the movie. Even as Stitch is channeling Clint Eastwood with a soda gun in hand, we never forget about his plight and history, as well as that of Lilo and Nani. There are genuinely harrowing moments late in the film and there was not a dry eye in the house for its grand finale, a credit to the groundwork laid by Dean Fleischer Camp and Co. over the course of the film.
Lilo & Stitch is, at the end of the day, a sloppy balancing act that saves its best for last, sending the crowd out on an emotional high note. The remake takes advantage of the time added beyond the runtime of the animated original (something that can be said of incredibly few other Disney remakes), adding more depth as well as a few fun setpieces that flesh out Stitch’s abilities and persona. It is just different enough from the original (even if it certainly has iterative tendencies) and has just enough of its own voice to recommend alongside the original. It’s complementary to its predecessor in ways that other films of its ilk are not. You won’t want to throw Lilo & Stitch (2025) back in the salvage bin with all those other Disney remakes, even if it may collect dust for a while behind your copy of the 2002 version.
Grade: C+
The Walt Disney Company will release Lilo & Stitch only in theaters on May 23.
In addition to his work at Awards Watch, Jay has written and hosted podcasts for Film Inquiry and InSession Film. He is an auteur obsessive, regularly diving deep into the filmographies of celebrated filmmakers.
Jay is a proud member of the Atlanta Film Critics Circle and the Georgia Film Critics Association. You can follow him on Twitter @MrJayLedbetter.
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