Flora & Ulysses

There is a specific kind of magic required to make a movie about a poetry-writing, super-powered squirrel not feel like a desperate grab for a distracted toddler’s attention. Usually, when "family adventure" meets "CGI animal," I prepare for a barrage of fart jokes and frantic slapstick designed to keep a six-year-old from throwing a juice box at the screen. But Flora & Ulysses arrived on Disney+ in the winter of 2021 with a surprisingly sharp wit and a heart that wasn’t just a brand-mandated organ. I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while my neighbor’s leaf blower provided a low-frequency hum that made me feel like I was trapped inside a giant hair dryer, yet the film still managed to pull me into its quirky, comic-book-panel reality.

The Algorithm's Best Kept Secret

Released at a moment when we were all trapped in a streaming-induced fever dream, Flora & Ulysses is a textbook example of a film that deserved a theatrical life but got swallowed by the "Content" maw. It’s part of that strange, post-2015 era where mid-budget gems are often dumped onto platforms without the fanfare of a Marvel spectacle, leaving them to be discovered by accident on a rainy Sunday. Director Lena Khan treats the source material—Kate DiCamillo’s Newbery Medal winner—with a stylistic flair that feels more like an indie comedy than a corporate product.

The story centers on Flora, played by a remarkably self-assured Matilda Lawler. Flora is a self-proclaimed "natural-born cynic" who uses superhero logic to navigate the wreckage of her parents' recent separation. When she rescues a squirrel from a runaway vacuum cleaner (the "Ulysses 2000," naturally), the rodent develops super-strength and a penchant for typing deep thoughts on a vintage typewriter. It’s absurd, yes, but the film leans into that absurdity with a deadpan grace that reminded me of why I liked Paddington so much. It treats the ridiculous with total sincerity.

No Tights, No Cape, Real Stakes

In an era where we are drowning in "Franchise Fatigue," this film offers a refreshing deconstruction of superhero tropes. Flora’s world is saturated with comic book lore, but instead of building a "Cinematic Universe," the film uses those tropes to explore internal landscapes. Matilda Lawler is the anchor here; she doesn't do "child actor preciousness." She delivers lines about hopelessness and "the looming abyss" with the weary weight of a Philip Marlowe, which makes her eventual bond with a bushy-tailed acrobat feel genuinely earned.

The adventure elements are surprisingly inventive for a film that mostly takes place in a quiet suburb. We get bike chases, a high-stakes break-in at a donut shop, and a recurring antagonist in Danny Pudi’s Miller—an animal control officer who treats a rogue squirrel with the terrifying intensity of a Bond villain. Most CGI animals look like they’ve been taxidermied by a haunted computer, but Ulysses actually has a soul. The animation team managed to give the squirrel a personality that relies on physical comedy rather than giving him a celebrity voice-over—a choice that saves the movie from becoming another Alvin and the Chipmunks disaster.

A Cast That Understands the Assignment

What elevates this beyond a "kids' movie" is the adult ensemble. Ben Schwartz plays Flora’s father, George, a failed comic book artist working at a Staples-esque supply store. Schwartz reins in his usual high-octane energy to give us a father who is visibly struggling but trying to keep the wonder alive for his daughter. His chemistry with Matilda Lawler is the film’s secret weapon. Then there’s Alyson Hannigan as the mother, a romance novelist grappling with writer's block and the fear that she’s losing her connection to her family.

The film is littered with "Hey, I know them!" moments for comedy nerds. Seeing Ben Schwartz and Danny Pudi—two pillars of modern cult television—face off over a squirrel is a delight I didn't know I needed. Apparently, the production was a bit of a DuckTales reunion, as both actors (along with Bobby Moynihan in a cameo) voiced characters on the rebooted series. It gives the film a loose, improvisational energy that you rarely find in big-studio family fare. It feels like everyone involved was having a genuinely good time, which is a vibe that can't be faked.

Flora & Ulysses is a bright spot in the often-cynical landscape of modern streaming releases. It captures that rare "Amblin-esque" feeling of a world where wonder is just around the corner, provided you're willing to look past the "looming abyss" of adulthood. It’s a film about divorce, disappointment, and the healing power of a rodent who can do a superhero landing. While it might have been lost in the Disney+ shuffle, it’s a journey that reminds me why we need stories about the small heroisms of everyday life. If you’ve got ninety minutes and a lingering fondness for comic books, give this little squirrel a chance to stick the landing.