Jonás Cuarón stretches his director’s wings away from papa Alfonso with Netflix’s Mexican coming-of-age tale,. It’s a fantasy comedy about huggable, lovable chupacabras–hence the nickname title that’s drawn a–directed at adolescent audiences. Its special effects aren’t groundbreaking, but they nail Chupa’s adorableness as we learn about the importance of heritage and the despicableness of disrespectful outsiders.
Alex lives in Kansas City with his single mother, trying to assimilate with other American children instead of cherishing his Mexican roots. He barely speaks Spanish, asks for “normal” dinners instead of barbeque tacos, and plays his Game Boy to escape reality. That’s until he takes a trip to Mexico to stay with his forgetful grandfather Chava , lucha-loving cousin Memo , and musician cousin Luna .
puts simple children’s storytelling first. Chava’s very serious absentmindedness stays surface-level as a subplot, as does American pharmaceutical corporations paying urban legend hunters. Alex’s confrontation with his heritage and the lessons learned are delivered in neon lights—taught, inadvertently of course, by Chupa. You’ll get your pleasurable moments of Chupa learning to fly like a four-legged luchador and your confrontations between Chava and Quinn that stay appropriately PG.
The animation departments bring chupacabras and other wildlife, like mountain lions, to life, though not always with pristine pixelation. A stationary Chupa looks fantastic—its wide eyes beg for compassion, its tilted head warms your soul with a puppy dog’s curiosity—but mobility is an issue. Again, we’re talking about a children’s movie that opts not for Stan Winston levels of practical craftsmanship; there are jankier moments where a moving Chupa doesn’t feel fully rendered.
Then there’s the adventurous element of it all, stuck somewhere between Bichir’s suplexes and Slater’s work with a tranquilizer gun . Danger levels aren’t exceedingly high to not scare away the youngest audiences. Copious nods totry to repurpose nostalgia or rustle similar excitement–Quinn is basically an evil Alan Grant, and entire scenes are ripped from Steven Spielberg’s “dinomite” classic–but there’s no parallel.
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