The Garfield Movie: Too Much Cheese, Not Enough Pepperoni

The Garfield Movie is enjoyable and witty in parts, run-of-the-mill animated comedy in others

Rahul+Desai

May 17, 2024

The Garfield Movie. Poster detail

MARK DINDAL’s The Garfield Movie is the sort of safe and serviceable film that goes to a job interview with “short-term goals” highlighted on its CV. (I mean there’s ‘movie’ in its title.) It unfolds like the fast-food version of Pixar’s gourmet-level Ratatouille which is just as well, given its titular cat’s super-sized American appetite. The premise: The human-loving and pizza-eating tabby cat rediscovers his street-cat dad only to be forced into a wild week featuring a dairy-farm heist, a vengeful Persian cat and a lovelorn bull. He is of course joined by his best buddy Odie, the dim but hopelessly faithful beagle. I went into the screening hungry, and perhaps the biggest emotion the movie elicits is more hunger — and a few giggles (if you’re above the age of 10). It reproduces that meta Marvel-meets-Ryan-Reynolds-ish humour, an all-too-familiar template in 2024.

In short, it’s nothing to write home about: enjoyable and witty in parts, run-of-the-mill animated comedy in others. In fact it’s hard to even review. Do I like it? Meh. Do I dislike it? Meh. Will I remember it? No. I don’t even think it aspires to be remembered, given its cookie-cutter ambitions and its contentment as a fluffy time at the movies. The backstory starring kitten Garfield is sweet, as is the glutton’s indulgent relationship with his human Jon, whose credit card he keeps maxing out to order takeaway. The adventure itself is a little bloated, what with the train travel and father-son tensions and derivative plan (if you’re a fan of cheese, it’s tough to concentrate on the characters). The casting is a nice little in-joke too: Ted Lasso’s boss (Hannah Waddingham) and grumpy football legend (Brett Goldstein) reunite as a cockney super-villain named Jinx and her canine henchman Roland. There’s also a half-stale, half-cute nod to Tom Cruise and his ridiculous stunts in a spoofy climax.

I also feel like the significance of Garfield — a famously lethargic, spoiled and sarcastic ‘indoor cat’ — is different in a post-lockdown world. Kids scarred by the pandemic might vibe with his antisocial ways, which is perhaps where the film scores in terms of its commentary. The premise is an excuse to challenge Garfield’s stubborn personality. He is forced to get out of his comfort zone and learn some life skills — the entertainment is shaped by his reluctance to do that. The friction between a city-slicking homebody and nature is never small. The message is that even a legendary fictional character has the scope to change a little. His transformation isn’t overdone either: Garfield goes through an eye-opening ride and improves, but he doesn’t shy away from returning to the warm embrace of his couch (and ‘Catflix’ videos). That’s his home, his default state, and his adventure will soon become a fond memory. He remains an indoor cat, just one with a newfound confidence of confronting the outdoors. He remains a human’s cat, just one with the privilege of having bonded with his biological father.

I don’t know what it is, but I never imagined Garfield speaking in Chris Pratt’s voice. Or Chris Pratt speaking through Garfield. I imagined someone like Brett Goldstein being monosyllabic in a grunty voice. Ben Affleck, too. If the point is to subvert our impression of the comic-strip (we could always hear Garfield while reading him), it might have been funny to cast someone (perceivably) chatty like Matt Damon and have him barely speak. Samuel L Jackson as Garfield’s estranged dad is a cool touch, but it’s such a distinct twang that it’s hard to get past the racial stereotyping of a street cat. Waddingham’s been enjoying her post-Ted Lasso fame, allowing herself to get Bond-villainised in both The Fall Guy and now The Garfield Movie. Her Jinx has shades of other famous animated baddies like 101 Dalmatians’ Cruella and The Little Mermaid’s Ursula.

On a personal note, I wanted The Garfield Movie to be like that bite of nostalgic bliss that food critic Anton Ego takes in Ratatouille. I wanted to be transported to my childhood, and all those summers I’d look for Garfield comic-strips to perfect his deadpan look (which, ironically, I did as an adult). My disappointment in the movie is perhaps rooted in its lack of heart. I expected more, but the connection never came. I knew it wouldn’t the moment I noticed that the PR agency invited kids, families and young influencers to an orange-themed ‘press screening’. Their reactions were supposed to shape our moviegoing experience. Somewhere along the way, the movie itself becomes incidental. Not even the title can change that.