When Disney released the original Lilo & Stitch in 2002, it was one of the few mainstream animated films set in a non-white, non-mainland context, and it captured hearts with its quirky humor and tear-jerking portrayal of sisterhood and found family. Set in Kauaʻi, it offered a rare look into the emotional and economic struggles of two Native Hawaiian sisters trying to hold their lives together after the death of their parents. The film didn’t shy away from showing the messy reality of grief or the struggles of those who have to grow up too fast. It highlighted the importance of found and chosen family, making its message of ʻohana, “nobody gets left behind or forgotten,” a powerful and lasting anthem.
But the film wasn’t without criticism. While it celebrated Hawaii visually and thematically, it did so essentially without Native Hawaiian voices guiding the story and cast. There was minimal use of ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian language), and the film’s depiction of cultural elements like Hula, community life, and local struggles felt more like a background setting than a lived reality. In many ways, the 2002 film offered representation without representation and accountability.
Fast-forward to the live-action Lilo & Stitch remake and you might expect those lessons to be learned, and to a point, they were. The casting process showed more thought and intention this time around. However, the choices were not without controversy, as questions around colorism and authenticity sparked debate within the Native Hawaiian community.
While the remake is a move in the right direction, it still stops short of truly committing to Native Hawaiian representation, hesitating to embrace the cultural depth and accountability the story teases and deserves.
The good news? The emotional heart of the film still beats strongest in the relationships between Lilo (Maia Kealoha), Nani (Sydney Agudong), and Stitch (voiced by Chris Sanders, reprising his original role). Newcomer Maia Kealoha perfectly captures the oddball energy and tender defiance of Lilo, whose bond with Stitch mirrors her inner turmoil.
They are outsiders, misunderstood and struggling to find their place in a world that sees them as “bad” and broken. Their friendship unfolds through hilariously wild antics, a shared connection of loneliness, and learning to grow together. Their bond remains the soul of the story, and the movie hits its most powerful notes when it lets them be vulnerable together.
Meanwhile, Agudong’s portrayal of Nani grounds the film in emotional realism. It allows Nani a bit more space than the original to show how heavy that burden is: working multiple jobs, navigating a broken child welfare system, and trying to preserve some sense of normalcy for Lilo while silently unraveling. It doesn’t shy away from showing the struggle of Nani trying to balance her new parental role while still being the sister that Lilo needs and the impact it has on their relationship.
The addition of Stitch to their family dynamic helps Lilo and Nani realize that healing doesn’t always look like going back to what was; sometimes, it’s building something new with what’s left. Together, this trio forms a found family that, while stitched together by grief and circumstance, clings to the truth at the story’s core: ʻohana means nobody gets left behind—or forgotten.
The supporting cast adds essential layers to the found-family narrative of Lilo and Stitch. Jumba (Zach Galifianakis) and Pleakley (Billy Magnussen) return as the galaxy’s most chaotic odd couple, bringing much-needed humor to balance the drama. But their presence does more than lighten the mood; they offer a crucial context for Stitch’s growth. David (Kahiau Machado) and Tūtū (Amy Hill), Nani and Lilo’s neighbors, round out the extended family with moments of levity and grounding. Each character, in their own way, reinforces the central message: family isn’t defined by blood, but by the people who choose to show up and stay when it matters most.
Where the film falters most, AGAIN, is its relationship to culture. Despite early backlash over casting choices and calls for authentic Native Hawaiian representation, the final product feels hesitant. Native Hawaiian identity is visible but not central. Language is present but in small doses. Hula is performed without cultural context and the personal importance that Hula has for Lilo because of her late mother.
The criticism isn’t about perfection; it’s about intention. When you retell a story rooted in a specific place and culture, you have a responsibility to that community to get it right, to let them lead, not just participate.
The live-action Lilo & Stitch had the potential to become a landmark moment for Native Hawaiian storytelling twice now. Instead, it’s a safe retread that skirts around the very issues it could’ve engaged with most powerfully: colonialism, tourism, economic displacement, and the resilience of Native Hawaiian families. And yes, engaging those issues while still being family-friendly is possible. Indigenous filmmakers do it all the time.
For Native Hawaiians and many who saw their lives reflected in Lilo & Stitch’s chaotic and heartfelt brilliance back in 2002, this version may feel familiar and refreshing but still frustrating. It’s not a bad film; it just plays it too safely. And when we’re talking about cultures that have been systemically erased and distorted, safety isn’t enough. We need bold. We need real.
The 2002 Lilo & Stitch is one of my comfort movies. I was hesitant about the remake, and despite my hesitation and criticism, I was thrilled that everything I loved about the original was still present. I was not so thrilled that I found myself crying like a baby in a packed theater. Having lost my mother in 2021, it hit me hard in the emotional feels.
The live-action Lilo & Stitch is a reminder of how much this story still matters and how much more powerful it could be when told in full partnership with the people it’s about. It’s a step forward in some ways but a sidestep in others. This live-action Lilo & Stitch isn’t a total failure; it’s just not the leap forward it could’ve been.
For kids watching this version for the first time, it’s a great gateway into the world of Lilo & Stitch and the obsession that will follow. For those of us who grew up with the original, we can rest easy that it didn’t turn out to be a Snow White kind of trainwreck and that everything we loved about the original, despite minor changes here and there, is still very much present and still just as entertaining and heartfelt.
