Is “IF” the Warm Hug We All Kinda Need Right Now?
With its whimsical characters and gentle soul, it’s undoubtedly a family flick. Yet “IF” might have more on offer for adults that you first realise.
Calling all giant fuzzy purple monsters — we’re channelling our inner child to talk about IF, the new big-budget family release from Paramount starring the most creative characters of all — imaginary friends. Or “IFs”, to use their preferred term :)
Just how big is “big-budget”? Director John Krasinski (who many will recognise as Jim from The Office) cajoled a whopping US$110 million from the mountain-monikered studio to bring his fantasy tale to life, from an original script he wrote himself. That’s quite a risk on a title with no underlying IP (like, say, The Super Mario Bros. Movie, which made over US$1.36 billion worldwide in 2023).
The unknown characters aren’t the only potential drawback: the main story is pretty sad, and with his self-deprecating, “I play Ryan Reynolds in everything” vibe, you could argue that the movie’s only big star is generating a touch of audience fatigue. Critics’ reactions have been mixed, too — some point to the film’s warm heart, while others say it’s somewhat unfocused. So with all that said, what kind of experience does IF bring to kids and families?
No disrespect to Mario & Luigi, but this is no fluffy save-the-princess movie. Krasinski clearly has more heartfelt fish to fry, creating a story that tackles topics like childhood grief, coping skills, and our adult need for support and safety that’s just as real (but far more suppressed) than a child’s. Turns out there’s a bit of muscle to be found under IF’s cuddly purple fur.
Our hero is Bea (Cailey Fleming, The Walking Dead), a 12-year-old who’s already lost her mother from cancer. Now, she’s facing her Dad (John Krasinski) needing life-saving heart surgery — in the same hospital where her Mum died. She doesn’t realise it, but that mix of traumatic memories and psychological pressure suddenly triggers Bea into seeing IFs: wild and wonderful imaginary friends whose kids have grown up and forgotten them.
Cue Bea’s mission: help the mysterious but friendly stranger Cal (Ryan Reynolds, Free Guy) to connect these random IFs — the flaming marshmallow, the British-sounding unicorn, the Superhero Dog and heaps more — with new kids who need them most. And hey, if that played out just so and the credits rolled, you’d have a solid (if conventional, and maybe forgettable) family film. But Krasinki ups the stakes quite a bit beyond the usual G-rated range.
When Bea realises new kids aren’t ‘matching’ with the lost IFs, her goalposts shift: can she help Cal reunite the IFs with their original kids, now all grown up? It’s this story point that takes IFs underlying themes into territory that resonates with adults more than usual. Bea is no longer solving problems that are “just” for kids, or cartoon creatures. We’re being told a story about the grief we all feel, the distractions we all face, and the safety blanket we all need sometimes.
How does IF tackle childhood grief?
Krasinski opens the film with a sunny montage, shot home-video style, of a younger Bea with her parents. It’s like an ode to imaginative play — we’re talking dress-ups, shadow puppets, and enough paddle pop sticks & glue to build a replica of the Titanic. It’s a quickfire way for the film to show us three things at once: that Bea’s family prizes imagination, that they love her dearly, and that losing her Mum will be devastating.
Cut to now, and Bea is a quiet, reserved kid, on the cusp of her teens and clearly resourceful. She’s moving back in with her grandmother while her Dad’s in hospital, which reconnects her to a few of her Mum’s old things. These touchstones — like when she finds the video camera that shot the opening scenes — dredge up Bea’s grief, and connect it with the potential of losing her Dad as well. She’s almost pre-processing a future grief that hasn’t yet arrived.
Her Dad is keenly aware of the trauma that his hospitalisation is stirring up in his daughter, and he keeps up a playful energy, using sight gags and unexpected humour around her at all times. Is it all just a distraction? Krasinski seems keen to underline that it’s more like a choice; a belief system that says imagination and positivity is vital. But Bea pushes back on his wackiness.
She reminds him that he doesn’t need to shield her from the realities of his condition; “I’m not a kid,” she says. Krasinski circles back to this later at a key point in the film, when Bea tearfully cries, “I’m just a kid!” It encapsulates that ‘neither-both’ feeling that’s so vivid at 12 years old. Mature enough to understand the spicier aspects of life, but still needing emotional support and protection (especially after, or during, an enormous loss).
What does IF have to say about adult pressures?
This is where IF has a little more to say than your average Minions movie. It might also see a few grown-ups dabbing their eyes instead of scrolling through their phones midway through a kiddo’s movie. Naturally, Bea’s Dad’s heart scare gives the story its emotional stakes, but Krasinski doesn’t pin the entire film on it. Instead, he includes other real-world adult characters for whom Bea’s actions make a genuine difference.
A big driver of the story is Bea and Cal tracking down the original “kid” that dreamed up Blue (voiced by Steve Carell), the enormous, goofy purple fur-bag who’s heroed in every poster. It turns out to be Jeremy, a stressed office worker who’s anxious about a big business pitch. He can’t see Blue anymore — an instant metaphor implying that, like almost all of us, Jeremy has let his childhood imagination fade amid the pressures and realities of adulthood.
The fun bit is seeing Bea figure out how to finally reunite these grown-ups with their IFs, and seeing the role the IFs play in supporting their former kids — not logistically, but emotionally (Blue giving Jeremy the support he needs to tackle his business meeting, for example). We know it’s fantasy, of course. But witnessing someone rediscover their long-lost emblem of childhood security as their eyes swim with happy tears? It’s proper heart-swelling stuff.
For kids, they see cute characters helping grown-ups get a win. But for adults, these scenes are a subtle nod to actual realities, like COVID nurses facing immense work strain, or ageing seniors, or small business owners going under. Krasinski is saying, being an adult is hard. Some of us are paddling so hard for survival, we’ve let anything that was once fun and frivolous drain away — an optional extra in life. We all need a cheerleader or a hug sometimes. So what if it’s a weird dancing bee or a cartoon dragon doing the hugging?
How does IF explore the importance of real-world creativity?
Aside from the mindset of Bea’s Dad that we went into earlier, IF prizes the values of creative play in myriad ways. The opening sequence is like a love letter to analogue joys — it seems to plead with us, “Get off your devices and PLAY with real stuff, for the love of Play Doh!!” This old-school, tactile feel extends from the film’s themes like pipe-cleaners that wind their way into the characters, the set design and even the costuming.
For example, Bea’s outfits are a throwback blend of adult patterns and childlike textures that speak very clearly to the two-sided nature of her emotional state (I’m not a kid/I’m just a kid). She wears ruffled pants and knitted tops with a visibly tactile quality; they’re the sartorial equivalent of a happy embrace. In a practical, but no less important sense, Bea’s costumes also needed to age down Fleming (who was 16 during filming) to play her preteen character.
Mid-film, we meet one of the IFs who’s an art teacher (seen as an anthropomorphised version of a painter’s poseable wooden figurine). When Cal takes Bea to visit a “retirement home” for IFs, the art teacher inspires Bea to totally redesign the place using her imagination. It’s one of the most entertaining scenes in the film. Bea joyfully reenvisions her surroundings with a Wonka-like zeal that’s fantastical, but never digital. The film’s stylistic ethos is on things you can actually hold and touch — and we don’t mean an iPad.
So what’s the takeaway from IF?
We kicked off this Guide with a few doubts around IF, and we can’t say every choice works. For a guy on the heart surgery waiting list, Bea’s Dad is oddly upbeat, and Bea’s grandmother’s IF, Blossom, has a Steamboat Willie-ish look that’ll be basically meaningless to kids. The story’s also caught a bit between eras — camcorders and sock puppets in the 2020s, really? But these are surface quibbles that fade when it’s clear the film has something genuine to say.
Kids need stories that don’t pander to them. They can hack a bit of on-screen trauma too (ask any 80s kid — Artax the horse drowned in a literal Swamp of Sadness). There’s value in giving children a film that’s fluffy on the outside with spiky bits underneath. For a kid who might’ve lost a parent, or any children who are processing a different loss — or even just navigating that classic pre-teen “I’m not a kid/I’m just a kid!” zone — we’d bet that IF will mean a lot.
That’s not IF’s saving grace, though. For every kid at the theatre, there’s a parent, grandparent, aunt & uncle, or carer sitting right alongside them. Each of them was a kid once too, with their own fears and dreams, and IF taps into them with an unapologetically mushy sense of delight. IF may not bring your long-lost imaginary friend bouncing back to life, exactly, but it might just whoosh you back to an age when you adored that warm, comfy feeling they gave you.
Originally published at https://good.film.
