Why is that of all the genres we can consider, its animation that tends to age the finest? Perhaps we just carry the nostalgia of the films we adored when we were younger into adulthood, refusing to look beneath the veneer of those fond memories in fear of discovering those joyful days were spent with a subpar production. However, the most likely explanation is also the most simple – these films speak a universal language, and are designed to be embraced by audiences from every possible background and origin, transcending the geographical and age boundaries that normally divide in other genres. More than anything else, the sincere craftsmanship that goes into many of these films is what keeps the engaging and admired after so many years – and one of the finest examples of this in practice comes in the form of Lilo & Stitch, which this year celebrated its twentieth anniversary. I recently revisited it for the first time since its initial release (at least in the full form – we all tend to dip into favourite scenes and sequences from time to time), and it would be an understatement to say that this film holds up well. Occurring at the back end of the period we now refer to as the Disney Renaissance (the roughly two-decade period between the end of the 1980s and the early 2000s, where the company was doing some of its most celebrated work), and often considered one of the primary contenders for their most beloved film, Lilo & Stitch is every bit as delightful today as it was when it was released, which is quite an achievement for a film that was designed to be as simple as possible. Credit must be given to co-directors Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois, who were coincidentally both making their directorial debut with this film, which was originally envisioned by the former in the early 1980s, taking several years to fully come to fruition, proof that patience is always a virtue, and that time and effort will nearly always result in a worthwhile project, which is the very definition of what makes Lilo & Stitch so special.

It’s a wonderful experience when a director truly embraces every bit of a project, to the point where their entire creative soul is poured into every frame of the story. Sanders spent decades tinkering with this project, which started as an ambitious germ of an idea, and developed into a masterful comedy that has never felt more relevant than it does today, which is an accomplishment for any film, but doubly impressive considering the small scope of Lilo & Stitch (at least in theory), and the fact that it was working from slightly more limited resources, the studio prioritizing more high-concept films that weren’t based on a two-decade-old flight of fancy. Sanders does ultimately prove all naysayers wrong with this film, working closely with DeBlois (who ended up having a brilliant career of his own after this, particularly in the aftermath of severing his ties with Disney – as important as they are in nurturing new talents, they can also be slightly oppressive when it comes to some of their more ambitious filmmakers that don’t colour in the proverbial lines, so to speak) to create this magnificent blend of comedy, science fiction and fantasy, all of which are tied together by the stunning, compelling fabric that drives this film and makes it such an audacious and meaningful work of pure artistry. Sanders dedicates every iota of his artistic spirit to developing this film and making it such a complex, layered film that is not merely the story of an extraterrestrial befriending a lonely child (it certainly is by far the best film to use that as a premise), but rather a detailed and well-intentioned story of friendship and family, the kind that has become almost entirely definitive of this film and its later revivals and spin-offs, none of which are anywhere close to as charming and meaningful as this one, which is a lot more profound than many viewers may give it credit for, which is where the film is at its most actively surprising, despite its relatively simple premise.

Despite my very clear fondness for this film, which goes back to my own childhood, do not be misled – every bit of effusive praise comes from a genuinely critical viewing of the film, where nostalgia was acknowledged but not factored into the film in a way that could be seen as distracting from my overall impression gleaned during this viewing. The value of revisiting a beloved work years later is that you pick up on details you may not have noticed initially – and while Lilo & Stitch isn’t one of those films that employ subtle bawdy humour that fly over the heads of younger audiences and are designed to only be caught by older viewers (which is a cheap tactic, but one that can be effective when used correctly), there are some details here that make it a lot more entertaining for adults than I initially had realized. Not necessarily in the humour, but rather in the profound sense of humanity – there is a full-bodied complexity that drives the film, making it such a beautiful and poetic examination of family, touching on the importance of finding a home, whether it is with those with whom we are related by blood, or by a common interest or shared identity that allows us to bond. It’s an important lesson that the film wastes very little time in exploring, and it becomes the foundation for many of its more charming ideas, the story always being prepared with a hilarious scenario that hammers the points home and makes it both endearing and thought-provoking in a way that is quite unexpected. There is always so many hidden complexities in this broad comedies, and finding them later in life upon a revisit is such a delight, since we realize how integral these lessons were in our formative years without ever taking note of them initially, which proves how this film, like many others from this time, were built on the most sincere form of human empathy.

Considering the reputation for sensational entertainment that is frequently accredited to this film, Lilo & Stitch is a film that is both narratively and creatively quite profound, a fact that we should not ever overlook, even if we don’t engage in too deep an analysis of this film. Studios like Disney tend to treat emotion as an easily navigable commodity, something that can be used freely, since audiences go into these films expecting to be moved, even if it is through increasingly manipulative ways. Mercifully, this film came about long before they had realized that audiences will respond to even the most blatant attempts at forcing them to feel some sensation that is undeniably constructed to cause a reaction. Lilo & Stitch is immune to this kind of forced emotion, since it all feels earned – when the characters deliver the recurring refrain of “ohana means family, which means no one is left behind”, it feels genuine, and strikes a much more profound chord than anything else, which is the entire purpose of the story. To have a film this off-the-wall and entertaining be condensed into a single line may seem reductive, until we realize that this is the entire propellant of the story, the detail that keeps it afloat and makes it so deeply compelling and meaningful, which is not at all something that we’d necessarily expect from such a small film, unless we know the power these kinds of stories tend to yield. Kudos must be given to the directors, who actively avoid cliche in a way that is genuinely quite remarkable, their efforts single-handedly elevating Lilo & Stitch from being a run-of-the-mill animated comedy into one of the most poignant and meaningful explorations of family that we’ve seen in recent decades.

Whenever we find Lilo & Stitch touching on deeper themes, it always comes across as authentic, and there is not a single false note to be found anywhere in this film, which is quite an achievement in itself, and all the more proof that some of the best works are those that come in the most humble of packagings, which is precisely how a film like Lilo & Stitch operates, blending together humour and pathos in a way that is almost indescribably beautiful. There is a visual and aural poetry that pulsates throughout this film – you’d struggle to find an animated film that feels this vibrant and alive, with every colour and sound being well-chosen to reflect this stunning version of the world that the directors are so dedicated to exploring. There’s so much remarkable detail that we find scattered throughout this film, and whether we hone into the design of the film, or the emotional beats of the narrative, or even the acting (which is distinctly subdued, but still very impressive, with the likes of David Ogden Stiers, Kevin MacDonald, Tia Carrere and Ving Rhames being fantastic, as well as the young Daveigh Chase, who brings one half of the titular duo to life, the other being played by Sanders himself), there is something to compel us in every frame. Hilarious but heartfelt, and driven by a sense of deep and genuine fondness for every bit of its story, Lilo & Stitch not only maintains its status as a masterpiece, it expands on it, being a work of pure compassion, handcrafted by two incredible artists that are intently dedicated to bringing this vivacious world to life, which is done with so much thorough dedication and a fervent appreciation for every aspect of the filmmaking process, which immediately makes this one of the finest efforts to come out of this era in Disney history, and overall just a truly compelling, insightful and wonderfully unique work of pure artistic empathy.