How Disney Did Stitch Dirty

Time​ Magazine

21-05-2025

Perhaps the most unlikely character to become ubiquitous in the world of Disney is Stitch, an alien who pretends to be a dog in 2002's Lilo & Stitch. Though the diminutive agent of chaos is a far cry from the nonthreatening affability of Mickey Mouse, his character design has an undeniable appeal. Just look at those big floppy ears and toothy grin, those Tasmanian Devil-meets-Hula dancer moves, and try to keep a straight face. Since that film proved something of a surprise hit for the studio, Stitch's impact has been felt worldwide. He's had three animated sequel films and three TV series, including the anime series Stitch! The merch is bountiful, with over 100 items currently listed on the Disney Store website, never mind the knock-offs. So when the news came that Stitch would return in a live-action remake, helmed by Marcel the Shell With Shoes On director Dean Fleischer Camp, expectations were reasonably high for the adorable alien's return to center stage. So high, in fact, that prognosticators predict it could out-earn even Tom Cruise jumping out of airplanes in its opening weekend.
Yet in the new Lilo & Stitch movie, releasing May 23, Stitch is alien non grata. As the remake is more than 20 minutes beefier than the original, which was written and directed by Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois, one would naturally expect an expanded role for one of the most treasured characters in animation. The movie's marketing certainly promises this—if you've so much as left the house in the last few months, you've likely been inundated with sightings of Stitch on clothing, housewares, and just about anything you can put a price tag on. You'd be forgiven for assuming he's the only character in the film. The extended run time offers an opportunity for an expanded backstory, flashbacks to the damage he caused that resulted in his exile from outer space, and a deepening of his bond with Lilo, to name just a few.
Instead, that extra time is spent with Stitch on the sidelines, taking a back seat to the relationship between Lilo and her big sister Nani, who was thrown into a guardian role after their parents died in an accident. Nani has ambitions of being a marine biologist and even received a full ride from a big university, but her priority is Lilo. There's also Tūtũ (Amy Hill), their neighbor who is fiercely protective of them. These new elements are neither remarkable nor unwelcome, but devoting time to them at the expense of Stitch is an utterly baffling decision.
It's not just that Stitch's role is reduced. When he is onscreen, the film prioritizes debauchery over depth. We get a new scene of him destroying a wedding reception because he wants to eat the cake, set to 'Uptown Funk.' He eats voraciously. He burps on numerous occasions. He swallows a lava lamp and burps again. He does lots of silly, goofy things because he's a silly, goofy guy. But his true character is subsumed by a flurry of moments that seem designed to be memed or turned into future merchandising opportunities. He has no arc, no real story of his own. What was once a misunderstood creature trying to find his own identity has morphed into a party animal who wouldn't be out of place in a frat house. You get the sense that if the film flashed forward to the future, he'd be chugging beers and crushing a nacho platter.
Audiences didn't fall head over heels for Stitch because he's a quirky goofball who brings chaos wherever he goes, nor because he's cute, blue, and fluffy (though that certainly helps). They related to him because the 2002 Lilo & Stitch was about an outsider who wanted nothing more than to belong. You could see Stitch actively trying to keep his destructive instincts at bay to strengthen his new family bond with Lilo and Nani. Stitch wanted so desperately to fit in, to be part of a world he always felt on the outside of, looking in. Lilo, outcast by her schoolmates and coping with a gutting loss, felt the same way. The film is about two unlikely souls coming together to take on a world that's dealt them nothing but hardship.
Worse still is that the scenes most essential to the development of Stitch in the original film are nowhere to be found in the new one. In the animated film, after causing wanton pandemonium for the sisters, Stitch is restless at night. He's being watched by his creator Jumba, who reflects to his colleague Pleakley: 'I never gave him a greater purpose. What must it be like to have nothing? Not even memories to visit in the middle of the night?' Looking for something to do, Stitch rummages through Lilo's bookshelf, struck by a picture book: The Ugly Duckling. He wakes Lilo to explain it to her.
'He's sad because nobody wants him,' Lilo explains, 'But on this page, his family hears him crying, and they find him. Then the Ugly Duckling is happy, because he knows where he belongs.' This means a lot to him, as he takes the book back to his bed and closes his eyes. Before he can fall asleep, he's interrupted by Lilo introducing him to the music of Elvis, solidifying their bond.
Later in the film, Stitch inadvertently causes Nani to lose her job, meaning the social worker, Mr. Bubbles, will have no choice but to separate the sisters and place Lilo in foster care. Overwhelmed by guilt, Stitch abandons Lilo, taking only The Ugly Duckling with him. It's here that Lilo delivers the unforgettable mantra central to the film: 'Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind.' Though he's moved by Lilo's words, Stitch still chooses to leave, desperate to find himself and even more keen to stop hurting someone he cares for so deeply. In the forest, he opens the book to the same page he was looking at with Lilo, with the duckling crying, 'I'm lost!' Somberly, Stitch repeats those words: 'I'm lost.' He means it more than just literally. He's all alone in the world, having left the one person who loved him unconditionally. He has no idea who he is.
It's a bracing moment of sadness that's rare for a family film. Disney movies deal with death and tragedy on a fairly regular basis, sure, but they hardly ever spend time truly interrogating how those events leave lasting effects like they do in Lilo & Stitch.
Instead of these vital scenes, we get a brief moment in Lilo's bedroom where she asks Stitch if he has a family. He simply responds with a 'no.' When you think there might be a moment of introspection, the film moves swiftly on. A retelling of a beloved story doesn't have to be a shot-for-shot remake to be valuable; taking things in a new direction helps justify the process of remaking these films in the first place, and it's a distinct mark of the few worthwhile live-action remakes in the Disney canon. But there's a balance to strike between adding something new and maintaining the core of what made the story worth telling in the first place.
2025's Lilo & Stitch offers mere sketches of this pivotal relationship. The Disney Live-Action Industrial Complex has made a lot of strange decisions in bringing their animated classics into the realm of live-action, but fundamentally misunderstanding what makes one of their most universally adored characters worthwhile may be its most egregious.