Cruella

I was watching Cruella while nursing a lukewarm bowl of leftover pad thai that had way too many bean sprouts, and I couldn't help but think: how did a movie about a woman who famously wants to skin puppies for a coat become the most vibrant, punk-rock heist film Disney has ever produced? We live in an era of "villain origin stories" where every corporate IP is being mined for a tragic backstory, but Craig Gillespie—the man who found the humanity in Tonya Harding in I, Tonya—actually managed to make the descent into madness look like a runway show.

The Clash of the Emmas

At its heart, this isn't a Disney remake; it’s a high-stakes psychological war between two women who are far too talented for the world they inhabit. Emma Stone plays Estella with a twitchy, desperate energy that eventually hardens into the granite-cold persona of Cruella. She’s fantastic, but the film truly breathes when she’s squaring off against Emma Thompson’s Baroness von Hellman. Emma Thompson plays the Baroness with a sharp, lethal elegance that makes Miranda Priestly look like a kindergarten teacher. She doesn’t just walk into a room; she colonizes it.

The dynamic between them is intense and surprisingly dark for a film under the Disney banner. When the Baroness casually mentions her philosophy on power—that you can't be kind and a genius—the movie stops being a family adventure and starts feeling like a grim dissection of what it takes to survive in a creative industry that wants to chew you up. Disney finally realized that being bad feels much better than being bored, and they let these two actresses chew the scenery until there wasn't a scrap of velvet left.

Punk Rock and Safety Pins

What really sets Cruella apart from the standard franchise fare is the sheer texture of its world. Set against the backdrop of 1970s London during the punk revolution, the film feels lived-in and grimy in all the right ways. The cinematography by Nicolas Karakatsanis (who also shot I, Tonya) uses a roving, restless camera that captures the chaotic energy of the streets.

The fashion "raids"—where Cruella upstages the Baroness at various high-society events—are the highlights of the journey. Whether she’s emerging from a dump truck in a dress made of literal trash or locking the Baroness in her own car with a spray-painted message, there’s a sense of discovery and rebellion that is genuinely infectious. It captures that specific adventure of the "outsider" finding their tribe. I loved the inclusion of John McCrea as Artie; he brings a glam-rock sensibility that feels like a nod to the era's real-world subcultures, making the representation feel like a part of the film's DNA rather than a checkbox.

The Heist and the Hounds

While the "Adventure" tag might imply a quest for a magical macguffin, the adventure here is a series of escalating heists. Joel Fry as Jasper and Paul Walter Hauser as Horace provide the emotional ballast the movie needs. Their camaraderie with Estella feels authentic, and their hesitation as she turns into the more ruthless Cruella adds a layer of moral complexity that I didn't expect.

The stakes are personal and heavy. The "dead mom by dalmatians" origin is the most unhinged thing a corporate boardroom has ever greenlit, and while it’s easy to joke about, the film plays it with a straight face that heightens the intensity. It treats Estella’s trauma not as a quirk, but as the fuel for a very specific kind of revenge-driven insanity.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

If you look closely at the details, the production of this film was a massive undertaking that leaned heavily into practical artistry rather than just CGI gloss:

Emma Stone actually had 47 different costume changes throughout the movie, which has to be some kind of record for a single character's descent into a breakdown. The "Trash Truck Dress" featured a train that was 40 feet long. It wasn't just a visual effect; it was a physical garment that had to be managed on set. Emma Thompson has stated in interviews that her corsetry was so tight she couldn't actually eat or breathe properly, which probably helped her maintain that "I want to kill everyone in this room" facial expression. The film conspicuously lacks any smoking. Despite the 70s setting and the iconic long cigarette holder of the original character, Disney’s strict ban on smoking in their films meant Cruella had to find other ways to look menacing. Glenn Close, who played the live-action Cruella in 1996, served as an executive producer on this film, passing the black-and-white torch to the new generation. The soundtrack features over 30 songs from the era, including The Clash and Blondie, which cost a significant portion of the music budget but was essential for establishing that specific London vibe.

Cruella succeeds because it refuses to be a simple "good vs. evil" story. It’s a loud, stylish, and occasionally mean-spirited look at ambition and identity. In an era where many franchise films feel like they were assembled by an algorithm, this one feels like it was hand-stitched with a jagged needle. It’s an adventure through the dark alleys of London and the even darker corners of a wounded ego. If you’re looking for a film that balances spectacular production design with genuine character stakes, this is the one to catch. Just maybe skip the pad thai while you watch.