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“Well, the situation is pretty dire here. Our recommendation is all of our clients to invest all their resources into tinned provisions and hunting rifles.” This nugget of shrewd guidance comes from the Brain Gremlin – a scientifically altered, speaking, glasses-wearing member of the oozy monster mob that swarms Manhattan’s ultra-modern Clamp Tower skyscraper in helmer Joe Dante’s zany follow-up Gremlins 2: The New Batch. At first glance, it’s simply an investment tip from one monster to another. However, curiously, it’s also remarkably sound existential counsel. Honestly, hear me out.

When situations deteriorate, the worst thing you can do is take things too seriously. The Brain Gremlin comprehends this. Actually, most of the dentally-gifted beasts that populate Dante’s chaotic 1990 feature (possibly his finest) possess the same sly, self-aware sense of humour regarding the hazy boundary separating everyday life and unadulterated chaos. It’s one element of Gremlins 2: The New Batch that keeps me coming back – and with the passage of time, it’s the theme that echoes the loudest.

A Childhood Fascination

Understandably, my connection with this movie did not begin on such an philosophical plane. Growing up, we possessed merely a few well-worn videocassettes at home. Part of that group were Gremlins and its sequel, the latter housed in a thick former-rental sleeve likely purchased from an independent video outlet and featuring snarling creatures on its worn-out artwork. I was immediately enamoured and these films did not delay lodging themselves inside my tiny, impressionable mind. Henceforth, they became an practically routine part of my youthful watching schedule.

Dante’s original usually receives all the praise, thanks largely to its reputation as a semi-scary seasonal fave – and don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched Gremlins on countless occasions. However, its sequel seldom receives the same level of high regard, which feels unjust. As a kid, I’d invariably jump at the prospect to watch Gremlins 2. During long summer holidays, I’d retreat into the house and stick it on. When I acquired my personal TV-VHS combo unit, it continued playing looped in my bedroom. Over time, it ingrained itself in my psyche. If my parents noticed this obsession, they gave no indication of concern.

Subtler Rewards and Pop-Culture References

As I matured, new understandings rewarded multiple watches, amplifying the pleasure of watching diminutive verdant beasts joyously wreck a New York high-rise. I learned the forward-thinking development mogul and Clamp Tower owner, Daniel Clamp (John Glover), was modeled closely on future president Donald Trump, with his ginger staff member Marla (Haviland Morris) referencing his one-time partner Marla Maples. Fortunately, Clamp demonstrates more humanity than his actual-world equivalent.

The “end of civilisation” video Clamp plays during the height of creature carnage? I discovered it was inspired by a actual “Doomsday” video produced by the CNN boss Ted Turner should the world really ended. I noticed how Dante made a special effort to film varying versions of a self-aware scene where Gremlins hijack the very film you’re watching. A version for theaters, a separate one for tape and broadcast, each offering a winking bit of meta pop-culture magic ahead of its time.

A Persistent Appeal

While it was makeup maestro Rick Baker’s wonderfully grotesque creatures that caught my eye as a child, this hidden treasure held my interest as an adult. Eventually, I even interviewed Dante about it myself and he had no reservations revealing to me he made the movie with the specific aim of mocking those who loved its goofy-but-heartfelt predecessor and craved further installments. “We were going to make fun of the fact you came to see it,” he gleefully confessed. This anarchic defiance and determination to not take his sequel as solemnly as his Warner Bros bosses clearly wanted him to, only deepened my appreciation further.

When I went through a sudden family bereavement recently, 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. Strange, isn’t it? Possibly not. The comforting familiarity it provided was needed to weaken my mind’s grief morass – but the stuff it had given me as an adult were just as useful.

Like Gremlins tearing apart a genetics laboratory, there’s particular aspects in life you just can’t control. Dante understands this. The Brain Gremlin knows it too. Sometimes, you have to be like them: welcome the pandemonium, put everything you’ve got into preserved goods and firearms and try not to approach life with excessive gravity.

It’s powerful existential guidance from a highly unexpected fountain – and it’s the reason Gremlins 2: The New Batch will forever remain my comfort movie.