“Lilo & Stitch” is one of the most beloved titles in the Disney Vault, making its live-action remake one of the most highly anticipated. While Disney’s track record with live-action remakes has been uneven, director Dean Fleischer Camp delivers a grounded, emotionally resonant, character-driven reinterpretation that honors the original while expanding and preserving the spirit of ‘ohana.
Rather than replicate the animated film beat for beat, Camp leans into the story’s emotional and cultural weight. Set against the lush, lived-in beauty of Oʻahu, this version celebrates Hawaiian culture not as a backdrop but as the beating heart of the narrative. Through casual conversational ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, traditional mele, and a textured soundscape that blends Elvis with new voices like Iam Tongi and a Bruno Mars–produced cover of “Burning Love,” the film deepens the bond between Lilo and Nani while paying tribute to the original. As such, there’s less emphasis on ornate action set pieces and more on the characters themselves.
Before he’s known as Stitch, Experiment 626 (Chris Sanders) — created by the unhinged Dr. Jumba Jookiba (Zach Galifianakis)— is a genetically engineered weapon: unstoppable, indestructible, and smarter than 100 supercomputers. Deemed too dangerous to live, 626 escapes an exile sentence ordered by the Grand Councilwoman (Hannah Waddingham). Following a pursuit, the ship crash-lands on Earth, specifically, Hawaiʻi. There, he causes chaos at a wedding (set hilariously to “Uptown Funk”) before being captured by animal control.
As Earth’s destruction is ordered, alien expert Pleakley (Billy Magnussen) intervenes, citing the planet’s protected status due to its endangered mosquito population. Soon, he and Jumba are sent to retrieve Stitch, which sets the story in motion.
Since the goal is to stay true to the spirit of the original while distinguishing itself, Camp’s Lilo & Stitch becomes a chance to explore Hawai’i in ways the animated counterpart only hinted at. The rhythms of traditional Hawaiian mele, the familiar twang of Elvis, and a vivid sense of place bring the spirit of aloha alive on-screen. And film’s use of ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, hula, and cultural expressions like ‘ohana, kuleana, akamai, and a hui hou infuse the world with warmth and authenticity.
Music remains a key part of the experience. Mark Kealiʻi Hoʻomalu and the Kamehameha Schools Children’s Chorus return under the direction of Lynell K. Bright (mother of screenwriter Chris Kekaniokalani Bright). They’re joined by fresh voices like Iam Tongi, who revitalizes “Hawaiian Rollercoaster Ride.” At the same time, a Bruno Mars–produced version of “Burning Love,” performed by his nephews Nyjah Music and Zyah Rhythm, adds a fresh modern energy.
Subtle but meaningful changes elsewhere, particularly in how the relationship between Lilo and her older sister Nani is portrayed, give a deeper exploration of two girls navigating grief and the threat of family separation. Nani is a young woman forced to set aside her dreams of studying marine biology at UCSD to raise Lilo. Meanwhile, an imaginative Lilo struggles to fit in. She’s bullied and aches for connection, crafting friendship bracelets from beach trinkets. In contrast, her fellow hula dancers for a school recital flaunt pop-perfect ones fit for a Taylor Swift concert. And just like the animated counterpart, Lilo acts out when mistreated just because she is different.
Since tragic circumstances and compounding obstacles have always defined Lilo and Nani’s story, the film delves into Lilo and Nani’s struggles with grief, growing up too soon, and fitting in. Lilo escapes into her imagination and rituals, while Nani is thrust into the role of caretaker far too quickly, making their bond messy, complicated, and deeply human.
Lilo remains an independent, imaginative, misunderstood child who struggles to connect. She feeds Pudge the fish, who, in her mind, controls the weather, before rushing to hula class. She lounges in a hot tub, claiming she’s “in town for the convention,” or frees chickens just because it feels right. She charts her own path. And Kealoha reminds us what being a kid with a sense of adventure is like.
As for Nani, she sacrifices her dreams to keep the family together because Lilo is all she has. For her, success is no longer defined by personal ambition, but by the strength and preservation of her ʻohana.
Still just a kid herself, Nani is thrust into the role of a parent and met with institutional challenges questioning her fitness as Lilo’s guardian. The conflict between Nani and social services is more nuanced than in the animated counterpart. Rather than being a one-dimensional villain, Mrs. Kekoa (Tia Carrere) is portrayed as a supportive yet firm presence. She is an empathetic agent of the system who genuinely wants to help, but is still bound by its rules. She tells Nani she has until Friday to clean the house, stock the fridge, pay the bills, and find a job that provides health insurance—because only then will the state even consider letting her keep Lilo.
The stakes are high for Nani and Lilo. Still, the film never loses sight of the delicate balance between their roles as sisters and a dynamic that more closely resembles a stressed young parent and a rebellious child. Their relationship reflects the push-and-pull of sibling rivalry and the heavy emotional labor of premature responsibility. Kealoha and Agudong bring a lived-in warmth to the screen, and their chemistry feels deeply authentic. It’s an on-screen sisterly bond that helps carry the film.
Despite the compounding odds, Lilo and Nani aren’t alone. Their neighbor Tūtū (Amy Hill) and her grandson David (Kaipo Dudoit), who has a crush on Nani, offer a helping hand whenever they can. Tūtū sees them as ʻohana, not just neighbors. Hill’s performance brings the classic auntie energy when she gently meddles in Nani’s business by fishing out her UCSD acceptance letter. She also reminds her of her bright future if she uses that “akamai brain.”
Lilo eventually visits the animal shelter—not to adopt, but to be there for the dogs. She runs into Stitch, who has escaped his cage. Lilo connects with Stitch, though their relationship is more circumstantial than genuine, since the blue fluffball doesn’t want to be captured by Jumba and Pleakly.
Considering how the film mostly stays true to the same narrative beats as the original, watching this Lilo & Stitch becomes a matter of how the live-action version differentiates itself from its animated counterpart. Some changes are more obvious, such as the reduction of roles for certain characters like Cobra Bubbles (Courtney B. Vance) and David – it’s as if they were added to remind us these are characters from the animated version.
Bright and Mike Van Waes’ script strips away the idealism of the original, presenting a more complex world. Stitch’s presence complicates and deepens that bond between Lilo and Nani, with Nani urging Lilo to face reality, reminding her that ‘ohana isn’t a fix-all when Stitch becomes more of a problem. While Lilo bonds with the chaotic Stitch, the film doesn’t shy away from the real consequences of his actions. As the pressure mounts on Nani when the weight of family separation becomes all too real, something the animated version never fully explored.
So, as Stitch represents a hilarious agent of chaos, the relationship between him and Lilo evolves into a genuine companionship that goes beyond a pet and its owner. Lilo sees Stitch as family. And as she tries to reform Stitch, we get a glimpse of what Nani has had to put aside when she shows Stitch an album of photos of Nani surfing and surf swim training.
Fully aware of the animated original’s emotional legacy, director Dean Fleischer Camp and cinematographer Nigel Bluck opt for a grounded visual language that contrasts beautifully with the film’s more outlandish sci-fi elements. Shots of sunlight through palm leaves, ocean mist clinging to skin, sandy beaches, and the soft grain of handheld shots give the character-driven moments a tangible intimacy. That comes alive when Agudong surfs and Kealoha swims to feed Pudge.
While some of the animated spectacle of the original wouldn’t translate as easily without a bigger budget and would largely take away from the grounded reality the live-action film is going for, Camp goes for something more emotionally resonating. As such, the visual effects are minimized. Jumba and Pleakly aren’t aliens dressed as humans, but aliens who take a human form.
At the same time, the film balances this realism with pockets of visual-effects whimsy. Stitch’s gravity-defying antics and galactic origins have a controlled sense of scale, not once overwhelming the frame or overshadowing the film’s emotional core. Whenever Lilo and Stitch explore O’ahu, we get a sense of scope, scale, and a few laughs from the mayhem he creates, and she is on the ride for.
Stitch remains a misunderstood, adorable ball of fluff who is a destructive alien, but serves as a profound metaphor for found family. His presence becomes the unexpected glue that helps Lilo and Nani navigate their shared trauma and rebuild their sense of belonging.
Nani has to be both an elder sibling and a parent to a misunderstood Lilo who feels out of place. And yet, she manages to be both—offering soft truths, fierce love, and moments of comfort even when overwhelmed. It’s a relationship brought vividly to life through Kealoha and Agudong’s performances, making the film’s most powerful moments emerge not from grand gestures but quiet exchanges that reveal vulnerability.
The emotional beats the two have help make the performances truly shine. Kealoha and Agudong bring a lived-in warmth to their roles, and their chemistry feels authentic, not forced. The push-and-pull between them that is expressed through the love, the tension, the protectiveness helps ground the film in a reality that makes the more fantastical elements resonate even deeper.
Dean Fleischer Camp’s Lilo & Stitch doesn’t just retell a beloved story. It reclaims it with emotional honesty, cultural respect, and a grounded lens that deepens the meaning of ʻohana. Anchored by heartwarming performances from Maia Kealoha and Sydney Agudong, some lovely music, and the right amount of nostalgia, this reimagining isn’t about spectacle but connection.
8.5/10
“Lilo & Stitch” opens in theaters on May 23, 2025.
