Critics got their first look at Netflix’s new 2024 movie, Spellbound, which yielded impressively positive results ahead of its debut.

Marking the first of a trio of upcoming movies for Rachel Zegler, Spellbound is Netflix’s latest animated movie coming in late November.

The story centers on a young girl named Ellian who lives in a world of magic called Lumbria. This is where she has to break a spell that splits her kingdom in two and turns her parents into monsters.

Critics’ First Reviews for Spellbound 2024 Movie

Following press screenings for Netflix’s Spellbound, critics offered their first reactions to the upcoming animated movie.

Variety’s Katcy Stephan described the film as “magical,” praising Rachel Zegler for “[nailing] the princess role” and highlighting Alan Menken and Glenn Slater for the film’s music:

“Netflix’s ‘Spellbound’ is magical! Rachel Zegler nails the princess role as the headstrong and optimistic Ellian, while Alan Menken and Glenn Slater deliver the kind of soaring emotional ballad we’ve come to expect from them with standout song ‘The Way It Was Before.’”

Rama’s Screen did not view Spellbound as highly despite describing the film’s central themes as “admirable.” He felt it had a “preachy message” built around a “lackluster adventure:”

“‘Spellbound’ theme of assuring children of divorced parents that life would get better was admirable. But therein also lies the problem. They built the story around the preachy message, so the result was a lackluster adventure with mid songs, mid humor & mid characters”

The Direct’s own Russ Milheim saw Spellbound as a fun film “that boasts a surprisingly mature message” while praising Rachel Zegler for her musical musings:

“‘Spellbound’ is a fun adventure that boasts a surprisingly mature message. Its unique world is vibrant and fully realized, with lots of songs to enjoy as the story plays out. Rachel Zegler’s musical talent shines bright, as one would expect.

“Spellbound on Netflix is a true delight,” exclaimed critic Amanda Taylor, who complimented the way it “captivates with its heartwarming story and stunning animation:”

“‘Spellbound’ on Netflix is a true delight! This magical film captivates with its heartwarming story and stunning animation. Alan Menken’s beautiful score elevates every scene, while Rachel Zegler shines with soulful brilliance. Don’t miss it!”

Freelance journalist Jamie Jirak loved the film, particularly “the pairing of Nathan Lane and Tituss Burgess,” telling fans it is “worth checking out on Netflix:”

“‘Spellbound’ is so sweet! An animated princess musical with songs by Alan Menken… from Skydance?! I’m always happy when Rachel Zegler sings, and I loved the pairing of Nathan Lane & Tituss Burgess. The film has a nice message and is worth checking out on Netflix next week!”

Screen Rant’s Joe Deckelmeier described how the film “weaves heartfelt storytelling with breathtaking animation” and “strikes a perfect chord:”

“‘Spellbound’ on Netflix is fantastic! The way this film weaves heartfelt storytelling with breathtaking animation is just magical. It strikes a perfect chord, exploring family dynamics and connection in such a relatable and profound way. Kudos to the brilliant team behind it, especially Alan Menken and Glenn Slater, for injecting so much soul into the music!

CBR’s Ashley Saunders heaped heavy praise on Spellbound, telling fans that it was “beautifully animated” and “brimming with heart and humor:”

“‘SPELLBOUND’ is beautifully animated, brimming with heart and humor. Alan Menken’s score hits all the right nostalgic notes for this millennial. Pure magic. Rachel Zegler once again wows & John Lithgow is a scene-stealer! Perfect watch for the whole family”

Nerdtropolis founder Sean Tajipour called Spellbound “a beautiful yet powerful story with fantastic visuals,” highlighting the way it “tackles tough themes…through a child’s eyes:”

“Netflix’s ‘Spellbound’ is a beautiful yet powerful story with fantastic visuals that tackles tough themes like parental separation through a child’s eyes. It explores the journey of kids who blame themselves and try to ‘fix’ their parents’ relationship, all wrapped in a magical and adventurous fairy tale filled with song and dance.”

These critic responses appear to indicate that another hit animated Netflix movie may be on the way, even though some noted an occasional flaw or two. The cast seems to have put forth their best efforts, and Alan Menken continues his trend of excellence after projects like The Lion King (which continues to expand in live-action).

Featuring major stars like Nicole Kidman and Javier Bardem next to Zegler, Spellbound looks to become the next great animated musical in an era somewhat lacking in that genre at times.

Whether this film leads to more stories from this universe is a mystery, but for now, plenty of hype is building for a fun new film fans can enjoy for the holiday season before the year ends.

Spellbound will debut on Netflix on Friday, November 22.

Modern folklore-focused anime and manga owe a huge debt to the work of 1960s manga Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro‘s artist and writer Shigeru Mizuki. A second world war veteran, the traumatic amputation of his left arm, due to an air raid explosion, never held back his pre-existing artistic ambitions. An avid researcher of international folklore, he poured his encyclopedic knowledge of the supernatural not only into his wildly influential manga, but also into countless factual tomes – some of which are available in English. Mizuki made his journey to the otherworld in 2015, at the age of 93, leaving an unparalleled legacy that this movie attempts to do justice to, acting as a prequel to the most recent anime adaptation and as an entry point for newcomers.

I’ll admit it now – before watching this, I was only familiar with Kitaro, and Mizuki’s work in general. Mainly on the strength of Scotland Loves Anime’s presenter Jonathan Clements‘ urgings, in preparation for this review I sought out several volumes of the original manga and episodes of the 2018 TV anime. It appears I am now very much a Mizuki fan, though not necessarily due to this movie.

Oddly, while Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro‘s TV incarnation is aimed primarily at children (with a theme song that claims it’s more fun to be a ghost because school attendance isn’t required), Birth of Kitaro is a grim and gritty horror film targeted at an adult audience. It loosely adapts a short manga chapter from 1966, however only uses the most basic of elements from it, crafting a mostly original story, tonally removed from the progenitor TV show. There’s even an “uncut” version, released only very recently in Japan, that dials up the already bloody violence even further. Birth of Kitaro has an unusual pedigree: it’s written by Hiroyuki Yoshino of Macross Frontier and Dance in the Vampire Bund, while directed by Gō Koga, best known for Precure and Digimon.

We’re first subjected to a baffling non-sequitur of a prologue that clumsily attempts to tie into TV show continuity with an appearance from Kitaro and pals in the “modern” day before jarringly segueing into the film’s primarily historical setting – it’s not a promising start. Most of the action transpires in 1956, during Japan’s post-war Showa-era economic recovery. Protagonist Mizuki (who is apparently a stand-in for author Mizuki himself) is an ambitious middle-management businessman who works for the “Imperial Blood Bank,” a company run by the mysterious Ryuga family. When the family head dies, Mizuki is summoned by his boss to the Ryuga’s remote mountain village estate to observe the transfer of power to the deceased head’s nominated heir. As expected from this genre, events don’t exactly proceed according to plan.

It’s immediately obvious this village is a strange place – accessible only by dangerous, unmaintained mountain roads, even locals from nearby areas avoid it entirely. Mizuki’s arrival is viewed with either novelty (from a village child), interest (from the main female character), or outright hostility (from most of the rest of the cast). His status as an unwelcome outsider is constantly reinforced by various senior Ryuga family members. Once poor Mizuki realizes he’s now trapped in a Hinamizawa/Twin Peaks/Royston Vasey-esque situation, it’s too late. This section of the film is slow-moving, perhaps as an attempt to build dread, but so many characters involved in random mafia/yakuza movie-style politicking are introduced that it’s extremely hard to follow. Eventually, this doesn’t matter, as most of the extended cast are murdered horribly anyway. There’s a lot of death in Birth of Kitaro, probably unsurprising for a character that fans already know will be born from the corpse of his mother, as the last of his kind. (So, spoilers for the uninitiated… I guess?)

Kitaro himself only barely appears in this prequel – instead, the focus is on the horribly-out-of-his depth Mizuki who finds an ally in the mysterious, white-haired, googly-eyed interloper he named “Gegero”. (The Japanese sound “ge” typically means “creepy” or “icky”, and when repeated like “gegege” it adds emphasis.) Gegero is really Kitaro‘s father, Medama-oyaji, who is destined to become a talking, disembodied eyeball who resides in Kitaro‘s empty left eye socket.

Mizuki and Gegero investigate the creepy Ryuga family’s secrets to discover the truth of “Substance M,” an experimental blood product marketed by Mizuki’s employers. It doesn’t take a doctorate in hematology to intuit that the Ryuga are up to no good. Once all of the narrative pieces are in place (and various Ryuga family members are either impaled by trees or otherwise mutilated horrifically), the plot finally rushes headlong into batshit insanity. The final forty minutes or so are a relentless descent into stunningly animated violent hell, with some truly breathtaking action sequences. A particular highlight is Gegero’s battle with an army of armored ninja dudes atop a multi-leveled tower, depicted with stylish, fluid, incredibly kinetic animation. A final confrontation centered around a demonic underground tree almost reaches Evangelion-esque levels of surreal metaphysical nonsense.

Birth of Kitaro‘s ultimate antagonist is somewhat difficult to take seriously (the audience audibly laughed when they revealed themselves), but really isn’t that incongruous when viewed in the context of the often goofy manga. I do wonder that if there had been a bit more of that unselfconscious goofiness added to this film, it might have been more entertaining. Without author Mizuki’s more whimsical influence, at times Birth of Kitaro feels disappointingly like a more by-the-numbers anime horror without much personality of its own. Its overall seriousness meshes uncomfortably with its more outlandish character designs (such as the Mizuki-accurate cartoony undead, who appear later on), and its overly complex story really doesn’t amount to anything by the end, considering the literal mountain of corpses left in the film’s wake.

Japanese folklore fans will enjoy the glimpses of yokai, like the water-borne Kappa who briefly appear, while there are plenty of rich cultural references likely to fly over the heads of most Westerners. By the time Kitaro himself arrives, we’ve seen so much death and destruction that we’re almost numb to it, so his birth scene plays as more silly than tragic. That part is adapted more or less panel-for-panel from the original manga, even if the circumstances leading up to his birth are completely different. A bookending flash-forward epilogue re-contextualizes the odd prologue in a genuinely emotionally affecting way – but doesn’t make up for the tonal disconnect that makes the opening so off-putting. It would have been better to move the prologue to the end, uniting it with the epilogue.

While I enjoyed the action aspects of Birth of Kitaro, I can’t say it works that well as an entry point for new fans. Tonally, it’s completely different from both manga and TV shows, plus it’s also quite dull and plodding in its first half. Existing fans might get a kick out of this darker, more violent incarnation of the franchise, but I’d recommend newcomers start with the manga or 2018 TV series, which a lot more fun.

Aasif Mandvi, one of the leads in a new production of “Waiting for Godot” opening Thursday at L.A.’s Geffen Playhouse, is sitting on a couch, recalling the dearth of roles for South Asian actors in 2003, when he played a Taliban minister in Tony Kushner’s “Homebody/Kabul.” Mandvi’s co-star, Rainn Wilson, leans in.

“I thought you were Cuban!” Wilson deadpans.

Mandvi doesn’t miss a beat.

“I’ve told you a million times, I’m not Cuban,” he says with mock exasperation.

“You could play Cuban,” Wilson says.

“I’ve played Cuban, but I’m not Cuban,” Mandvi says.

“You should change your name, you really should,” Wilson persists. “Like, Antonio Mandivosa. You would work nonstop.”

Mandvi shakes his head, ribbing Wilson right back.

“You’re so white right now,” he says.

They both laugh.

The two men are in the midst of recounting their early days in theater, when Wilson didn’t make more than $17,000 annually for years and Madvi toured Florida with a production of “Aladdin” for kids so young they occasionally peed their pants during the performance.

For his first show in New York, Mandvi played Hector in Shakespeare’s “Troilus and Cressida.” The production took place at the back of a restaurant in Brooklyn, and the audience consisted of maybe a dozen people. The mother of the guy who played Troilus made all the costumes, Mandvi recalled, and so he came out onstage with a cardboard sword with a crease in it.

“I’d been through drama school, I was a professional!” Mandvi says with a laugh. “It was the most insane thing. But this is to say that you just get onstage and do whatever you can to get seen, to build your résumé.”

It’s funny to think of a time when either actor still needed to build his résumé. As two of modernist theater’s most iconic misfits — Vladimir (Wilson) and Estragon (Mandvi) — the actors will take the stage as bona fide stars. Although Wilson will always be associated with the gullible and weaselly Dwight Schrute on NBC’s “The Office,” and Mandvi recently won a devoted fan following for his portrayal of the science-minded skeptic Ben Shakir in “Evil” on Paramount+, both men refer to theater as their first — and biggest — love.

“The entire reason I came to Los Angeles, and I am not even exaggerating one iota, is I knew that if I ever wanted to play Mercutio at the Public Theater, I was gonna need to be on a TV show,” Wilson says. “That’s just the reality of New York theater. They want to sell tickets.”

Rainn Wilson at Geffen Playhouse on Oct. 29, 2024.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Advertisement

Wilson has stayed in L.A., but he still talks about going back with the goal of playing some of those great roles. Which is why he jumped at the chance to work on “Waiting for Godot.” He performed a scene from the play in acting class at the University of Washington in 1986 and ended up marrying his scene partner, writer Holiday Reinhorn. Since then, he’d always dreamed of revisiting it. Mandvi also performed “Godot” in acting class long ago, and the play has long been on his bucket list.

The Geffen production is exciting to both actors because it’s presented in association with the Irish theater company Gare St Lazare Ireland, which specializes in Beckett’s work.

“I’ve rarely been this challenged before as an actor,” Wilson says. “I played Hamlet in college, and I will say this is harder because everything is subject to interpretation.”

Wilson throws out an example. He has a line in the middle of the play that reads, “In an instant, all will vanish and we’ll be alone once more in the midst of nothingness.”

“You could play that line with all the darkness and sincerity that you can muster, and it might really strike a chord in the the heart of the audience, or you could put a tiny little spin on it and get a big laugh,” he said, thinking about it for a moment. “Yeah, and I’m not sure which way I’m even gonna go with that right now.”

Beckett wrote “Waiting for Godot” in the late 1940s after World War II, during which he was part of the French Resistance. The play, which centers on two ragtag characters waiting in vain for a man named Godot, delivers some of 20th century theater’s most closely parsed lines. It premiered in1953 at the Théâtre de Babylone in Paris and ever since has been endlessly analyzed and explained by academics, critics and theater lovers bent on uncovering its meaning.

“It presumes the ultimate thesis, which is, we don’t know what we’re doing here, or why we’re here,” Mandvi says. “We just pass the time.”

Mandvi and Wilson are the same age, 58, and shared the same agent in the mid-’90s when they were starting out, but they had never worked together.

“It just sounded like a blast, right?” Mandvi says. “ I was like, ‘Oh, I get to work with Rainn who I’ve always admired and watched and —’”

“Been oddly attracted to,” Wilson interrupts.

Mandvi nods slowly.

“Been oddly attracted to,” he repeats before adding emphatically, “which has really diminished.

“He’s one of the few people where the more you know him, the less you like him,” Mandvi continues. “The less you lust, I should say.”

“It’s true,” Wilson agrees.

Up next, the actors suggest: A mashup of “The Office” and “Evil” where the Dunder Mifflin Paper Co. is haunted. Hollywood producers, take note.