Lilo & Stitch reloaded: how much love has Disney still got to show?

Luca Fontana

20.5.2025

Translation: Elicia Payne

I wanted to be excited. About Disney. About nostalgia as a business model. And then I sat there – with tears in my eyes. Because of Stitch. And because of two sisters who had a hold on me.

Don’t worry: the following movie review contains no spoilers. Everything mentioned here has already been revealed in trailers. Lilo & Stitch will be showing in cinemas on 22 May.

It’s 2002. Disney’s in crisis. Atlantis was a flop. The Emperor’s New Groove too. And the next CGI giant is already waiting in the wings: Ice Age. Now of all times. But then a little movie from Disney’s Florida studio sneaks into the limelight – with watercolours, Elvis songs and a blue slob who eats everything and anything.

Lilo & Stitch.

This movie was different. Rough around the edges, playful and surprisingly emotional. And almost like a secret internal project – the president of the Florida division deliberately kept it hidden from top management for as long as possible so that no one could interfere. Finally, it wasn’t about a princess. There was no Broadway cheese. And then the movie also shook up those family values that otherwise seem almost sacrosanct at Disney.

It was only when the movie was almost finished that the now ex-Disney CEO Michael Eisner was allowed to catch a first glimpse. «I like this film», he’s reported to have said. «It’s weird. But weird in a good way.»

Eisner expressed in simple words what Lilo & Stitch is all about. And over two decades later, the movie has now landed exactly where Disney regularly reveals its greatest hopes: on the big screen. As a live action. As a nostalgia project. As another attempt to polish the original – until it shines beautifully but smells a bit like plastic.

Except that this isn’t just any old fairy tale. It’s about Lilo. And Stitch. And perhaps the last bit of magic that Disney still has to offer.

Not a big hit – but a small miracle

What can I say? It tricked everyone. Not with the force of a surprise. But like a familiar warm hug. Lilo & Stitch isn’t a radical reboot. No deconstructed update. Rather, it’s what Disney likes to sell today as «modernised», but in reality sticks so closely to the original that in places you get the feeling you’re recreating it from memory.

Frame by frame, song by song, tear by tear.

The running time? Only slightly longer than the cartoon. The story? Almost identical. Characters, dialogue, dynamics – it’s all there. Nothing twisted, nothing turned upside down. And it works. Perhaps precisely because it worked like this the first time. Because this story of Lilo, Nani and Stitch was already honest and beautiful in 2002. And still is today.

Of course, you could say that’s not brave. Cowardly, even. Another nostalgia bait that just copies rather than inspires. Anyone who’s ever seen the soullessness of a digital Simba knows what I mean. But another way of looking at it is: if something’s so carefully reconstructed that it makes me cry again – and yes, that’s the truth – then we can put our trust in it.

Because no matter how digitally animated Stitch is today, his story remains real. It can’t be measured in visual textures, but in emotions. And the movie still has more than enough of that, remake or not.

The heart beats in Hawaii

No matter how much Stitch is emblazoned on the poster, it’s the sisters who carry the movie. Even back then, in 2002, this was no ordinary Disney family constellation. No mum, no dad, no magic formula. Only Nani, in her early twenties, far too young for responsibility, but suddenly responsible for everything. And Lilo, her little sister, vulnerable, angry, lost – and full of love that doesn’t fit anywhere.

The fact that this dynamic also works in the live-action adaptation is down to two decisions: a strong cast and the fact that the film takes their drama seriously. Maia Kealoha as Lilo in particular is a real discovery. Wild, playful, stubborn, lovable. In some scenes, it seems as if the drawn Lilo has simply stepped out of the screen and become flesh and blood.

Her sister Nani – played by Sydney Elizebeth Agudong – is just as great. She brings this mixture of being overwhelmed, care, frustration and unconditional love to the screen with an intensity that left a lump in my throat more than once. When she rolls her eyes in annoyance or tries to remain calm with a petrified expression while everything’s falling apart inside, that’s not Disney magic. That’s simply human.

And that’s precisely what distinguishes this film from many other remakes: it doesn’t try and preserve animated nostalgia in live action. It’s looking for the same meaning that the cartoon already had.

Because Lilo & Stitch was never about heroic deeds, but about solidarity. And mental overload. About two sisters who are far too young to be strong – and yet have to be. This dynamic’s also at the heart of the remake. It’s not been reduced. Or weakened. Or exaggerated. It’s taken seriously. As serious as Disney far too rarely goes when it comes to real, broken, authentic families.

Perhaps that’s precisely the best thing about Lilo & Stitch.

Small changes, large impact?

Anyone familiar with the original will quickly notice that the live-action version of Lilo & Stitch remains true to its DNA. The movie doesn’t tell a new story, nor does it rewrite it – it just sharpens it slightly in the right places with small adjustments.

You see this in Nani’s story. In one scene, we find out that she actually received a scholarship in marine biology. A place at college. A new beginning. A life just for her. But Nani decides otherwise – for what matters. For her sister. For their shared history. For Ohana.

The word doesn’t just mean family, as the 2002 cartoon already taught us. It also means that no one is left behind.

Or forgotten.

This one moment – also staged quietly, casually, almost unspectacularly in the live-action remake – hits me harder than most dramatic scenes. Because it shows what Nani really has to bear: no superpower, no magic, but responsibility. And love that isn’t loud, but uncompromising.

Such small shifts turn a mere remake into a movie with its own pulse. Almost identical to the original and yet carried by something of its own. Not out of a sense of duty, but out of genuine understanding. That’s why Lilo & Stitch 2.0, despite its closeness to the original, doesn’t feel like a copy. More like a reunion.

Worn around the edges, perhaps, but the same big heart.

The power of anti-heroes

Then, of course, there’s Stitch. This little chaotic blue thing on two legs. Still cheeky, wild, loud – and at the same time so lost that you just want to sweep him up in your arms. He remains what he always was: a glitch in the Disney system. Not a hero with a shiny shield. Nor a villain with a magic weapon.

A foreign body that finds its place.

This is exactly what makes Lilo & Stitch so special to this day: the chaos isn’t eliminated, combated or reprogrammed. It’s included. Because family isn’t perfect. And because someone’s allowed to stay, even if they’re different. There’s no win at the end. It ends with one of the most heart-warming hugs in cartoon history.

The live-action adaptation has also beautifully retained this radical softness at its core. The belief that belonging doesn’t have to be earned, but is a gift. Perhaps this is the greatest heroic deed that Stitch is capable of: he doesn’t save the world. He finds a home.

Luca Fontana

Senior Editor

Luca.Fontana@digitecgalaxus.ch

I'm an outdoorsy guy and enjoy sports that push me to the limit – now that’s what I call comfort zone! But I'm also about curling up in an armchair with books about ugly intrigue and sinister kingkillers. Being an avid cinema-goer, I’ve been known to rave about film scores for hours on end. I’ve always wanted to say: «I am Groot.» more

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