When a director like Steven Spielberg returns to a beloved classic decades later, expectations soar to impossible heights. With The Gremlins 3 (2025), those expectations aren’t just met—they’re twisted, magnified, and gleefully shredded by a film that revels in nostalgia while daring to dive deeper into the shadows. What begins as a holiday reunion with Gizmo and the mischievous creatures quickly spirals into something far grander: a global nightmare wrapped in tinsel and teeth.

Spielberg wastes no time in reminding audiences of the rules. Don’t expose them to bright light. Don’t get them wet. And for heaven’s sake, don’t feed them after midnight. But in The Gremlins 3, these rules aren’t just a quirky set of instructions—they’re the foundation of a mythology that stretches back centuries, to whispered legends and long-forgotten secrets. The film cleverly reframes the Mogwai as more than curious pets; they are relics of a cosmic balance, creatures whose existence is bound to ancient rites and dire consequences.
The decision to expand the setting from a small American town to a worldwide stage is both bold and brilliant. Christmas chaos doesn’t stay confined to snowy cul-de-sacs; instead, it erupts in bustling cities, sacred cathedrals, and even hidden laboratories where human curiosity proves just as dangerous as Mogwai mischief. The sense of escalation is palpable, as if the Gremlins themselves have outgrown the playgrounds of the past and now demand the world as their stage.

At the heart of this spectacle is, of course, Gizmo. Once again endearing and heartbreakingly pure, Gizmo’s journey in this film is darker and more personal than ever before. For the first time, he must grapple with the terrifying possibility that his own nature—gentle though it seems—may hold the secret to the Gremlins’ unending cycle of chaos. Spielberg lingers on this conflict, and in those quiet, tender moments, Gizmo becomes more than a mascot; he becomes a tragic hero caught between innocence and inevitability.
The introduction of new Mogwai species injects the film with exhilarating unpredictability. Each variant is brought to life with a dazzling mix of practical puppetry and cutting-edge effects, blending the tactile charm of the originals with the fluid menace of modern technology. From serpentine Gremlins with flickering tongues to bat-winged terrors swooping through Christmas lights, Spielberg ensures that no two monsters are alike, and every scene brims with inventive menace.
Tonally, The Gremlins 3 walks a razor’s edge. The twisted humor of the franchise is intact—gremlins caroling in grotesque harmony, wreaking havoc in toy stores, and parodying human traditions with chaotic glee. Yet beneath the laughter, a darker current flows. The scares hit harder, the shadows stretch longer, and the holiday setting becomes a stage for uncanny contrasts: warmth and terror, joy and destruction, nostalgia and nightmare.

Visually, the film is a feast. Spielberg and his team drape every frame in festive detail, only to desecrate it moments later with sudden eruptions of chaos. Snow-glazed streets sparkle under lights, but Gremlins turn them into battlegrounds of slapstick carnage. Cathedrals echo with hymns, until the rafters are filled with screeching Mogwai silhouettes. The result is an intoxicating dance between spectacle and dread.
Narratively, the film thrives on its exploration of origins. By weaving in ancient texts, forgotten artifacts, and the hints of a larger design behind the Mogwai’s existence, Spielberg crafts a story that feels both expansive and intimate. It’s not just about survival anymore—it’s about understanding, responsibility, and the dangers of tampering with forces that defy control.
The performances anchor the madness with surprising gravitas. Familiar faces return in smaller, heartfelt roles, while the new cast balances awe, fear, and humor with Spielberg’s trademark sincerity. But it is Gizmo—voiced with delicate nuance—who steals every scene, reminding us why audiences fell in love with him four decades ago. His silent courage becomes the emotional compass of the story.

By the climax, when the Gremlins’ rampage reaches its crescendo, Spielberg unleashes a dazzling mix of chaos and catharsis. It’s loud, wild, and unashamedly over-the-top, yet never loses sight of its characters or the themes that tether them to something larger than spectacle. The film ends with a haunting reminder that rules exist for a reason—and when broken, the consequences echo far beyond the holiday season.
Scoring an anticipated 8.5/10, The Gremlins 3 is more than a sequel; it’s a resurrection, a reinvention, and a mischievous love letter to fans both old and new. Darker, funnier, and more magical than ever, it proves that in Spielberg’s hands, even the smallest creatures can cast the longest shadows.