The Blue Apocalypse Nobody Asked For
This isn’t a movie; it’s a social experiment to see how much pain humanity can endure before surrendering its soul.
Cinema used to be about dreams. Sometimes nightmares. But The Smurfs 2025? This is neither. It’s the visual equivalent of dropping your brain into a blender full of blue paint and letting it scream for 98 minutes straight.
The latest attempt to reboot the beloved blue franchise features high-profile voice talent and a Gen Z-focused musical direction. However, critical reception suggests it’s a mixed bag.
While some reviewers noted a fun, chaotic, and occasionally touching tone, most critics agree it’s one of the laziest animated films of the year.
The plot, involving Papa Smurf being captured by evil wizards and Smurfette being sent on a mission to the real world, has been described as a derivative rehash of previous films.
The storytelling fails to resonate with many despite including new lore and a fresh art style. Some critics suggest that the franchise’s simple premise is unsuitable for feature-length films.
The voice cast, including Rihanna as Smurfette, Natasha Lyonne, Dan Levy, and James Corden, received mixed reviews.
While some performances, such as Dan Levy’s, were praised, Rihanna’s portrayal of Smurfette was criticized, with many reviewers feeling she was miscast.
The film’s musical elements, including a new song by Rihanna, were also a point of contention.
Ultimately, the film appears to be a cash grab, with its box office success likely depending more on the international popularity of the characters than on the quality of the film itself.
Let’s start with the elephant in the room: Rihanna as Smurfette. Whoever approved this deserves to be locked in Gargamel’s basement forever. Rihanna is many things: a singer, a billionaire, an icon.
But a Smurf? She radiates intergalactic calm. Watching her voice a squeaky, blue, mushroom-dwelling creature is like hiring Shakespeare to write Hallmark cards.
The story? Oh, you wanted one? Too bad. Instead, we get the usual “Smurf Village is in danger” nonsense stretched thinner than a pancake in a cosmic vacuum.
Gargamel returns—again—this time with a CGI cat that looks like it was rendered on a Nintendo DS. The Smurfs must learn “teamwork” and “believe in themselves.” Revolutionary stuff.
And the tone! Oh, the tone! It tries to be a meta-comedy, winking at the audience with Marvel-style banter.
But watching the Smurfs crack TikTok jokes is like witnessing your grandparents dab at a funeral.
Every “joke” falls flat. Every attempt at relevance feels so forced, as if the executives are screaming, “Please clap!” through the screen.
The visuals? Imagine a world submerged in radioactive coolant. The blue is so intense that you’ll walk out of the theater seeing avatars in your peripheral vision.
The CGI mushrooms glow like mutant neon lamps from a bad acid trip.
Children looked confused, adults looked angry, and one person muttered, “I paid 15 dollars for this?” before leaving halfway through.
But the absolute horror? The soundtrack. It’s awful, of course, because Rihanna probably recorded three terrible songs while making lunch.
By the middle of the film, you’re not watching The Smurfs anymore; you’re at a surreal Rihanna concert where the backup dancers are three-foot-tall blue gnomes. It’s dystopian. It’s hypnotic. It’s unforgivable.
Verdict: The Smurfs 2025 is less a movie and more a cultural crime scene.
Historians should study it as proof of what happens when studios panic and throw celebrities at a wall, praying they stick.
Spoiler alert: It doesn’t
. Gargamel won. We lost.
