Sitting in a theater watching Hoppers (2026), I couldn’t help but feel a giddiness at what the behind the scenes production must've been like. For the first time in ages, it felt like Pixar hired the kids in the back of the class who misbehaved. They were the type to take the prompt and find the most ridiculous way to interpret something dull. Throw in an emoji-obsessed lizard here, a beaver with a lengthy aerobics routine there, and suddenly this begins to feel like a film that reveled in throwing every idea at the wall. Thankfully, what still hung on the board might be the funniest, strangest family film Disney has put out in who knows how long.
Almost since induction, Disney’s animated output has painted nature as a wondrous place of natural beauty. The message of preservation is always the same. Hoppers doesn’t steer too far from that tree, though how it goes about its presentation is refreshingly deviant. Gone is the division between mankind and nature. Even if the city is on the horizon, the story’s interest is in showing their unfortunate partnership. Protagonist Mabel goes on a pursuit to lead an animal uprising because the mayor wants to build a highway through a pond. It’s a place she turns to for serenity, so the sudden disruption upsets her to the point she transfers her soul into the body of a robot beaver (long, but not long, story).
Another thing that feels refreshing, and I’m not sure how much it relates to other states, is how this story feels like a very Californian response to eco conservation. The highway is only set to create a minor convenience (cuts out a matter of minutes in one’s commute) while everyone communicates via their phones. The addiction gets so bad that animals are continually using it to haphazard effect. The mayor, who is a bit too reminiscent of Gavin Newsom in his photogenetic ready-to-please suit with a back pocket full of quotes to smooth over every publicity disaster, intentionally upsets the habitat with technology that manipulates the story to his favor. Politicians come across as two-faced, while the third act features another disaster all too familiar to anyone who has been watching the news, even in the past year.
In fairness, Hoppers is a world without any proper villains. There are multiple characters with flaring egos that present moments of reckless foolishness. And yet, it lives by the principle that groupthink can lead to change. If everybody listens, they can inspire better ways toward productivity. It may frustrate those who want conventional cause-and-effect resolution, but the messaging seems a tad more hopeful for an America currently suffering from a lack of proper communication.
What makes this go down smooth is that the humor is undeniable from the first second. Even if the reliable emotional beats are sprinkled throughout the text, they’re done effortlessly alongside some of Pixar’s most profane sight gags in at least 15 years. Remember how The Lion King (1994) sought to sentimentalize the circle of life? Well, in Hoppers, it follows the food chain rules. If you’re hungry, you’re hungry. Despite coming from a studio that has been overly precious about mortality in the past, there’s a flippancy with which so many characters die… and it’s rarely morbid or grotesque. Instead, it embraces cartoon physics that allow the belly laughs to go further and the brains to explode with heavier dynamite thanks to a few subplots which feel directly lifted from SyFy originals (but better written).
It helps that everything, even in its absurdity, always feels grounded. It respects the barriers of human and animal worlds by never resorting to convenient leaps of logic. Neither understand each other, and it leads to the subtext becoming a hilarious study of both not meeting each other’s needs. Even as plot lines get knotted up, there’s a throughline fueled by logic that allows everything to make sense in the moment. In a move of true ingenuity, the humor is turned on its head when both worlds are forced to work together. What starts as a madcap journey through eye-popping slapstick pivots to a heartbreaking payoff as distrust forms and new figures take center stage. Hoppers may go down as the most dimensional talking animal film that an American studio will release this year, possibly this decade. By the time credits roll, they have found new ways to get audiences interested in saving the forest. All it took was throwing a few electronics by a beaver dam to see what would happen.
Another reason the story doesn’t feel muddled or overlong is the pacing. Whereas most films (Avatar (2009) included) would have many trial-and-error scenes where Mabel wanders in her beaver body, there is an immediate recognition of how to navigate this world. It may take a few minutes to understand pond rules, but the world is immediately formed. The audience discovers everything alongside her. As she wanders the forest, there’s a brisk pacing to the gags that play out like a vaudeville act. Even so, the humor feels lived in, where it’s more than cheap recognition.
The best part is how events evolve over a continuous timeline. There’s no running back and forth. It allows information to be conveyed at a more gradual pace without complicating exterior events. It trusts the audience to get lost in plot development, especially around Mabel’s relationship with the beaver King George. The ruler is a kindhearted figure who thankfully never dwells too far into twee humor that makes him dimwitted or more of a liability. Instead, he’s a confident figure, and his optimism is a strength. It may seem silly to find him doing aerobics with the forest creatures, but he’s the type to want a more peaceful, unified vision of nature. He’s the perfect antithesis who also comes to symbolize the greatest reason for holding onto the pond. George is the least insidious character, so pure of heart that the very sight of him during the third act can bring about a tear.
There is a fine balance between a family film being clever and being too clever. Despite Pixar’s consistency, I’d argue most of their recent output has leaned too heavily into the latter. By itself, the premise and characters are often intriguing forces. However, there’s always some element that distracts by asking the viewers to think about a deeper concept. Maybe it’s the mortality of later Toy Story movies, where they’re driven to the brink of complete devastation. It’s one thing for a family film to have adult elements, but sometimes it feels like these films are more geared towards the cliché “Disney Adult” who needs to feel attached to the brand. I’ve loved many of them, but a handful in the past five years, especially, are a bit too introspective for their own good.
It’s why Hoppers ends up being a runaway favorite and my pick for their best since Luca (2020). By placing the characters front and center, it allows everything to develop organically. By making the audience care mostly about the characters, it allows them to feel a greater connection to their environments without feeling burdened with hearsay. It’s there in how Mabel reacts to every interaction and even King George’s efforts to save his community. Even the way they write the mayor has a perfect mix of smarminess and conflict with the chance to grow a conscience. Sensible viewers will immediately know why a highway is a problem, and yet they will come to appreciate the mayor’s willingness to listen. The complexity lies in finding a solution. Many have argued it’s not the most concrete depiction of activism, but it at least sends the young spurts on the right track.
Maybe it seems foolish to break down why a comedic film is inherently rewatchable, but it speaks to the masterstroke that Pixar has landed on. This feels like rejuvenation. In a time where they’ve been laced with too much nostalgia, this is the way forward. Some of the ideas may be old hat, but by hiring writers who know how to mix slapstick and pathos, they create a deeper understanding of nature as it exists for the audience. Without writing a condescending screed against technology, they found the ways that different forms of communication populate the same space and yet can’t function together. It doesn’t criminalize and instead has faith that society can rebuild itself in the wake of disaster. Not bad for a film that introduced itself last year with a post-credit gag of a character smacking the “LIZARD!” button over and over.
Hoppers is destined to be one of their most rewatchable films, period. By embracing the post-modernist view of America, it recognizes how everything is connected and that we’re hyperaware of everything and everything at every time. By trying to push through the distractions, it finds the humanity inside its different talking points and lands on a warmhearted comedy, even as it kills off a fair share of characters. It’s nice to see a family film use dark humor in a way that’s not for coddling existentialism. Instead, it’s a reflection on the vulnerability of life. We’re all at risk of being swallowed up at any time. It’s best to work together while we can to make our happiness last a little longer.
Comments
Post a Comment