Dragon Ball Z: Resurrection 'F'

In the modern landscape of franchise filmmaking, "resurrection" isn't just a plot point; it’s a business model. By 2015, the Dragon Ball mythos had been dormant for years before Battle of Gods (2013) gingerly poked the sleeping giant. But Dragon Ball Z: Resurrection 'F' was the moment the franchise decided to stop being polite and start being loud again. It’s a film that leans heavily into the contemporary obsession with legacy sequels, bringing back the series' most iconic sociopath, Frieza, to see if he can still draw a crowd. (Spoiler: He definitely can.)

I watched this film on a tablet while my neighbor was loudly pressure-washing their driveway, and strangely, the mechanical roar outside matched the high-octane energy of the screen perfectly.

A Masterclass in Villainous Charisma

What makes this entry work isn't the convoluted "why" of Frieza’s return—Dragon Balls have been a narrative "undo" button for decades—but rather the "how" of his presence. Ryusei Nakao returns to voice the galactic tyrant, and his performance is as silky and menacing as ever. There is a specific delight in watching a villain who is utterly unredeemable. In an era of "sympathetic" antagonists with complex backstories, Frieza’s pure, petty desire for revenge feels refreshing. He’s just a jerk who wants to blow up the planet because his feelings were hurt twenty years ago.

The script, written by series creator Akira Toriyama himself, understands that we aren't here for a deep meditation on the cycle of violence. We’re here to see what happens when the unstoppable force of Goku meets the immovable object of Frieza's ego. The early scenes in "Frieza's Hell"—a colorful nightmare of stuffed animals and marching bands—showcase Toriyama’s quirky sense of humor, reminding us that Dragon Ball has always been as much a comedy as a battle manga.

Kinetic Chaos and the "Z" Aesthetic

Director Tadayoshi Yamamuro leans into the "Action" genre with a ferocity that defines the film’s middle act. The standout sequence isn't even the main event; it’s the Z-Fighters (the B-team, essentially) taking on 1,000 of Frieza’s soldiers. This is where the choreography shines. We see Masako Nozawa’s Gohan, Hiromi Tsuru’s Bulma (in a support role), and even Master Roshi getting in on the action. It’s a beautifully staged melee that uses the environment and varying power levels to create a sense of scale often lost in the "punching in mid-air" sequences the series is known for.

However, the film does struggle with the contemporary transition to digital animation. While the character designs are sharp, the occasional use of 3D CGI for backgrounds and large-scale explosions can feel a bit jarring—a common growing pain in 2010s anime. There's a certain "weightlessness" to the digital effects that doesn't quite match the visceral impact of the hand-drawn-style combat. Gohan looks like he’s about to go for a light jog in a 1980s retirement community in that green tracksuit, a design choice that still haunts my dreams.

The "Blue" Controversy and Franchise Fatigue

By the time we get to the Super Saiyan Blue transformation (or "Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan," if you have way too much time on your hands), the film hits a crescendo of spectacle. The neon-blue hair clashing against Frieza’s new "Golden" form is a visual treat, even if it feels a bit like a toy commercial. This is where the "Contemporary Cinema" context kicks in—this film wasn't just a movie; it was a pilot for the Dragon Ball Super series. It’s a bridge between the nostalgia of the 90s and the multi-platform IP dominance of the 2020s.

But with that modernization comes some narrative frustration. Ryo Horikawa’s Vegeta is finally given the chance to settle his lifelong score with the man who destroyed his planet, and the film builds to what should be a triumphant moment of character growth. Instead, we get a literal "deus ex machina" from the gods Koichi Yamadera (Beerus) and Masakazu Morita (Whis). The final five minutes are a narrative emergency exit that robs Vegeta of his greatest win, opting for a safe, status-quo-preserving ending that leaves a bit of a sour taste for long-time fans.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

Interestingly, the entire movie was inspired by a song. Akira Toriyama was listening to the heavy metal track "F" by the Japanese band Maximum the Hormone, which is a tribute to Frieza. He liked the energy so much he decided to write a movie around it. You can actually hear the song during Frieza’s mid-movie power-up, and it provides a gritty, punk-rock edge that the usual Norihito Sumitomo score doesn't always touch.

The film was also a massive financial success, proving that theatrical anime releases were no longer niche "fan-only" events. On a modest $5 million budget, it raked in over $60 million worldwide, paving the way for the massive Western theatrical successes of Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen years later. It proved that in the streaming era, fans will still show up to the theater if the stakes (and the hair) are high enough.

Resurrection 'F' is a high-speed collision between nostalgia and the future of a global brand. It’s a film that prioritizes spectacle and "cool factor" over narrative stakes, but it does so with such infectious energy that it’s hard to stay mad at it for long. While the ending feels like a bit of a cop-out, the sheer joy of seeing Ryusei Nakao chew the scenery one more time makes it a essential viewing for anyone who ever tried to fire a Kamehameha in their backyard. It’s loud, it’s colorful, and it knows exactly what it is: a love letter to the greatest grudge in anime history.