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“Well, the situation is pretty dire here. We’re advising all of our clients to put everything they’ve got into tinned provisions and hunting rifles.” That bit of shrewd guidance comes from the Brain Gremlin – a lab-engineered, talking, spectacled member of the slick creature crowd that infests Manhattan’s ultra-modern Clamp Tower skyscraper in filmmaker Joe Dante’s zany follow-up Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Superficially, it’s merely an portfolio pointer from one monster to another. Yet, curiously, it’s also remarkably sound existential counsel. Honestly, hear me out.

When situations deteriorate, the biggest mistake you can do is approach matters with excessive gravity. The Brain Gremlin understands this. In fact, a large portion of the toothy monsters that populate Dante’s wild 1990 film (debateably his greatest) possess the same wry, meta sense of humour regarding the blurry line separating the mundane and absolute bedlam. It’s a single component of Gremlins 2: The New Batch that ensures my return – and as I age, it’s the message that echoes the loudest.

A Childhood Fascination

Naturally, my attachment to this movie didn’t start on such an philosophical plane. Growing up, we possessed merely a few battered VHS tapes at home. Part of that group were Gremlins and its sequel, the latter housed in a thick former-rental sleeve likely purchased from an non-chain rental store and boasting grimacing beasts on its tattered front. I was immediately enamoured and these films did not delay embedding themselves inside my young, susceptible psyche. After that point, they became an practically routine part of my early years entertainment regimen.

Dante’s first film typically gets all the accolades, thanks mostly because of its status as a partly frightening holiday classic – and don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched Gremlins more times than I can count. However, its sequel rarely gets the same level of lofty appreciation, which feels unjust. As a kid, I’d always seize the chance to watch Gremlins 2. During sunny school summer breaks, I’d retreat into the house and stick it on. When I obtained my very own TV-VHS combo unit, it stayed in constant rotation in my bedroom. Over time, it ingrained itself in my psyche. If my parents noticed this obsession, they didn’t seem to mind.

Hidden Rewards and Pop-Culture Easter Eggs

As I got older, new understandings enhanced repeat viewings, heightening the enjoyment of watching diminutive verdant beasts happily vandalize a New York high-rise. I learned the forward-thinking real estate tycoon and Clamp Tower owner, Daniel Clamp (John Glover), was modeled closely on future president Donald Trump, with his ginger staff member Marla (Haviland Morris) echoing his former spouse Marla Maples. Luckily, Clamp demonstrates more humanity than his actual-world equivalent.

The “apocalyptic” video Clamp plays during the height of creature carnage? I discovered it was based on a genuine “Doomsday” video created by the CNN boss Ted Turner should the world truly faced apocalypse. I noticed how Dante went out of his way to film alternate cuts of a meta sequence where Gremlins seize control of the very film you’re watching. An edit for movie houses, another for home video and television, each providing a grinning portion of fourth-wall-breaking cultural alchemy ahead of its time.

A Persistent Appeal

While it was creature designer Rick Baker’s gloriously nasty-looking creatures that captured my attention as a child, this subsurface richness held my interest as an adult. Ultimately, I even conversed with Dante about it myself and he had no hesitation telling me he made the movie with the direct intention of ridiculing those who loved its absurd-yet-genuine predecessor and desired a sequel. “We were going to make fun of the fact you came to see it,” he gleefully confessed. This Looney Tunes-esque rebelliousness and resolve to not take his sequel as gravely as his Warner Bros bosses clearly wanted him to, only increased my affection for it.

When I endured a sudden family bereavement earlier this year, I was taken aback to discover that, during my deepest grief, all I wanted to do was sit and watch Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Weird, right? Maybe not. The comforting familiarity it provided was needed to thin out my mind’s grief morass – but the insights it had imparted to me as an adult were just as useful.

Like Gremlins tearing apart a genetics laboratory, there’s some things in life you just cannot manage. Dante knows it. The Brain Gremlin knows it too. Sometimes, you have to emulate them: welcome the pandemonium, commit your entire being into tinned provisions and hunting rifles and try not to take things too seriously.

It’s robust worldly wisdom from a most improbable origin – and it’s why Gremlins 2: The New Batch will eternally stand as my feelgood film.