Abominable

I first caught Abominable on a Saturday afternoon while my apartment’s radiator was clanking like a ghost in a Victorian novel. I had a bowl of slightly burnt popcorn and zero expectations. By the time the screen erupted into a field of oversized, rolling blueberries, I realized I wasn’t just watching another "kid’s flick" to kill time. I was looking at one of the most visually inventive adventures of the last decade, a film that somehow got lost in the shuffle of 2019’s franchise-heavy calendar.

Magic, Music, and Monstrous Blueberries

The story kicks off in Shanghai, where a teenage girl named Yi (Chloe Bennet, who voiced the character while doing her own "scramble" noises to keep the energy up) finds a giant, fluffy Yeti hiding on her apartment roof. He’s escaped from a high-tech lab run by a billionaire explorer (Eddie Izzard) and a suspicious zoologist (Sarah Paulson). What follows is a 2,000-mile trek across China to get "Everest" back to his namesake mountain.

What makes this journey feel different from the typical "road trip" animated trope is the magic. Everest doesn't breathe fire or fly planes; he hums. His low, throat-singing vibration manipulates nature. It’s a spectacular creative choice that allows the animators to go wild. The blueberry scene is basically a legal hallucinogen for toddlers, but for adults, it’s a masterclass in using color and scale to create a sense of genuine wonder. I found myself leaning in, genuinely curious about what the next "power-up" would look like, whether it was turning a field of yellow flowers into a literal golden wave or riding on clouds shaped like giant koi fish.

The Great Yeti Race of 2019

There’s a weird phenomenon in Hollywood called "twin films"—think Armageddon and Deep Impact. Well, 2019 was the "Year of the Yeti." We had Smallfoot (the loud, musical one) and Missing Link (the stop-motion, high-brow one). Abominable was the third to the party, and it suffered a bit from audience exhaustion. But looking back now, it’s clearly the one with the most heart.

Apparently, director Jill Culton—who was the first woman to solo direct a big-budget animated feature at DreamWorks—spent years developing this. She drew inspiration from her own massive dogs and her desire to see a female lead who was a "tomboy" musician rather than a polished princess. That authenticity shines through in Yi’s relationship with her violin. The music isn't just background noise; it's the emotional spine of the film. Fun fact: the violin solos weren't synthesized. They were performed by a 12-year-old prodigy named Imogen Sloss, giving the music a raw, tactile quality that most CGI films lack.

The film also holds a strange spot in "cult" history due to a brief, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it controversy. It was co-produced by Pearl Studio (based in Shanghai), and a map in the background included the "Nine-Dash Line," a disputed territorial claim in the South China Sea. It led to the film being banned in Vietnam and the Philippines. While most Western audiences didn't notice, it’s a fascinating snapshot of how contemporary cinema has to navigate a global political minefield, even when you're just trying to tell a story about a big, fluffy monster.

A Journey Worth the Trek

The supporting cast provides the comedic friction needed to keep things from getting too sugary. Tenzing Norgay Trainor (grandson of the legendary Tenzing Norgay who summited Everest with Hillary) voices Jin, the image-obsessed cousin. Jin’s preoccupation with his sneakers is the most relatable thing in modern animation, especially when he’s forced to trek through the mud in $400 kicks. Then there’s Albert Tsai as Peng, who provides the chaotic energy that every group of misfits needs.

The film manages to tackle grief—Yi is mourning her father—without feeling like a "lesson." It uses the landscape of China, from the humid streets of Shanghai to the Gobi Desert and the Leshan Giant Buddha, as a character in itself. In an era where every animated movie feels like it’s trying to build a 10-film cinematic universe, Abominable is refreshively self-contained. The plot is basically "E.T. but with more fur and better snacks," and honestly, that’s exactly what I needed.

It’s a movie that deserves its growing cult status. It’s for the people who appreciate the "quiet" parts of an adventure—the moments where characters just sit and look at the stars, or where a violin melody says more than a three-page monologue.

Ultimately, Abominable is a testament to what happens when you prioritize atmosphere over punchlines. It’s gorgeous, it’s funny, and it captures that specific, contemporary feeling of wanting to disconnect from your phone and reconnect with the wild. If you missed it during the Great Yeti Fatigue of 2019, it’s time to track it down. Just make sure you have some snacks ready—you're going to want blueberries.