Slumberland, the new, live-action movie take on Winsor McCay’s early 20th century classic “Little Nemo in Slumberland,” starring Jason Momoa and Marlow Barkley, was largely dismissed by critics when it was released on Netflix last week. While the movie is certainly deeply flawed, it’s also a surprisingly touching tale about a child dealing with changes as random and unexpected as a dream, and I couldn’t help but feel moved.
Director Francis Lawrence (Constantine, The Hunger Games sequels) reimagines Nemo (Barkley) as the homeschooled daughter of a lighthouse keeper, Peter (Kyle Chandler), who has to go live with her uncle, Philip (Chris O’Dowd), after her father is sadly lost at sea. While dreaming, she encounters the beast-like outlaw Flip (Momoa), who was once Peter’s imaginary friend, and the two soon join forces to find a Pearl in the Sea of Nightmares that will grant her wish to see her father again.
Along the way, the duo are pursued by a Nightmare of Peter’s death, and Agent Green (Weruche Opia), a member of the Bureau of Subconscious Activities (BOSA) hunting Flip, all while encountering a Latin dance hall made of butterflies; a boy whose biggest dream is to drive a garbage truck; giant geese; a wartime fighter pilot; and an adorable soft toy pig called Pig. Meanwhile, whenever back in the waking world, Nemo struggles to make friends at her first school, and to warm to her formerly absent uncle.
As you might’ve surmised, Slumberland is a tonally strange product, an ostensibly whimsical adventure that’s about a child suffering an unimaginable loss. This wouldn’t have been an issue if the movie hadn’t circled back to the inciting tragedy until the end, but it does keep going back-and-forth between both stories, and both tones, awkwardly so: every time you’ve adjusted back to this being The Jason Momoa is a Groovy Outlaw Show, you’re reminded of Nemo’s underlying trauma, and suddenly every gag or surreal beat comes across jarringly. O’Dowd is relied on to bring some comedy to Nemo’s personal story, but still not to the extent the tone feels balanced.
Visually, there’s far too much CGI, causing a strangely floaty feel to much of the film’s scenes, which were clearly shot against greenscreen: as good as the cast is, you can’t help but begin to feel disengaged, and it compounds the issue of there being no real jeopardy in Slumberland, meaning it becomes tempting to look at your phone during the chase sequences. The amount of CGI also means it’s often inconsistent, ranging from distractingly fake grass (which was especially unnecessary), plastic, and geese, to genuinely evocative and beautiful sequences involving the sea.
So despite all that, why did Slumberland ultimately work for me? Momoa is certainly a fun, charismatic Bohemian presence, but his screentime is rather minimal, thanks to the premise: no, the true star of this movie is Marlow Barkley, who is its heart and soul. Barkley, who was a winning presence on ABC’s sadly short-lived sitcom Single Parents, continues to demonstrate why she’s a potential great future actress, projecting a sincerity that allows her to be funny without being sassy, and sad without being mushy — she feels like an actual child, creating a believability that means you feel as protective of Nemo as you would be in real life.
Thematically, it succeeds in telling its young target audience that sometimes life can be unpredictable, with circumstances beyond our control, and that we must accept the things we cannot change, with Nemo gradually realizing she may not need to see her father again, and that she must move on with her life. It telegraphs these messages with the subtlety of a sledgehammer — Weruche Opia is especially saddled with conveying much of this in a single, exposition heavy scene in the middle — but it is a kids’ movie. Chandler’s charisma in his brief scenes, and O’Dowd’s acting ability also help ensure the movie is ultimately emotionally affecting (even with, it must be added, the latter’s strange American accent.)
Jo Willems’s cinematography is beautiful in spite of the film’s visual problems, and Pinar Toprak’s piano-centric score is especially lovely too; it helps the movie transcend its tonal issues, ensuring we’re always reminded of the touching core of this hectic story. Ultimately, while flawed, and overly long for a family film at 117 mins, it’s easy to imagine Slumberland becoming a cult classic for many of the kids who’ll stumble upon it on Netflix, and perhaps more than a few jaded adults — I’m certainly glad I wound up watching it, having initially passed on it after seeing the negative reviews.
