One theme explored in Julian Glander‘s animated film, Boys Go to Jupiter, is the importance of giving kids personal space rather than pushing them to explore other, more literal spaces. The film feels like a dream-like take on Rugrats. Billy 5000 (Jack Corbett) often acts as the voice of reason among his friends—Freckles (Grace Kuhlenschmidt), Beatbox (Elsie Fisher), and Peanut (J.R. Phillips)—but when he pursues independence, the question arises: does gaining freedom mean leaving his friends behind?
The gang drifts through summer as outcasts, relying on little more than each other. Even Peanut’s “initiation” feels redundant, as if he already belongs. With no parents, teachers, or siblings guiding them—Billy’s sister barely registers—they fill the void with pranks, banter, and existential musings. They recall The Lost Boys not in plot but in spirit, caught in a restless limbo. Early in the film, they encounter a strange wormlike creature on the beach. The brief adventure quickly slips away, signalling a world where oddities can appear at any moment.
Despite its interstellar-sounding title, the story rarely leaves Earth. Its most cosmic thread comes from Dolphin Groves Juice Company and its eccentric CEO, Doctor Dolphin (Janeane Garofalo), whose origins are best left unspoiled. Her relationship with her daughter Rozebud (Miya Folick) contrasts sharply with Billy’s home life. Billy’s mother barely acknowledges him—even receiving food from him earns no recognition. Watching Doctor Dolphin guide her daughter highlights the absence in Billy’s upbringing. This gap—between the care he never received and the independence he craves—drives much of his story, making his journey to define “home” as much about emotional space as physical freedom.
When Billy delivers food to Rozebud, the narrative spirals into dreamlike territory. At times, it recalls Yellow Submarine, with a soundtrack nodding to early Beatles psychedelia. The film begins quietly, with the boys at the beach pondering life’s meaning. Their failed attempt to capture the worm adds a playful hook, though it fades too quickly. A few earlier foreshadowing cues could have tied its role into the story more effectively.
Visually, Boys Go to Jupiter delights. Its hybrid of claymation textures and pastel CGI suggests The Sims filtered through Gumby, creating a look unlike anything DreamWorks—or any major studio—would attempt. That idiosyncratic aesthetic is a large part of the film’s charm. At its heart, this is a coming-of-age tale.
Billy, adrift since dropping out of school, hides his sharp intellect behind apathy. His ability to calculate complex math in his head hints at potential he refuses to use, choosing delivery jobs over confronting his future. That tension defines him—a boy resisting a world that demands more than he’s willing to give. The story builds toward his decision about what “home” truly means.
Without spoiling specifics, the climax riffs on alien-abduction tropes in surprising and subversive ways. Some viewers may find Boys Go to Jupiter polarizing, but for those willing to embrace its eccentric rhythms, the payoff feels honest. This teen wants to live on his own terms, and the film honours that.
Rather than tease a mid-credits scene, the film closes with a strange but definitive resolution. Florida’s Everglades, already steeped in myths and half-told tales, deepen the film’s sense of mystery. A subplot involving dolphins and local urban legend could have been expanded, though lingering on it might have slowed the pace. A few moments drag and could have been trimmed, but the film maintains a satisfying rhythm. Even so, Boys Go to Jupiter hits the right notes for those who’d rather drift into the weird than settle into the ordinary.
3½ Stars out of 5
Boys Go to Jupiter Movie Trailer
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