Luca

The hum of a vintage Vespa engine is the sound of pure, unadulterated freedom if you’re a kid stuck in the doldrums of a predictable summer. In Luca, that engine represents the ultimate escape, even if the kids dreaming about it happen to have scales, fins, and a tendency to turn into sea monsters the moment they hit a puddle. Pixar’s 2021 outing didn't arrive with the bombastic fanfare of a theatrical blockbuster—thanks to a global pandemic and a direct-to-streaming strategy that still feels like a slight—but it has since burrowed its way into the hearts of audiences as a modern comfort classic.

I watched this for the third time recently while nursing a glass of lukewarm sparkling water that had lost all its carbonation, and honestly, the flat water didn't even matter. The film is so drenched in the golden-hour glow of the Italian Riviera that you can practically smell the focaccia and sea salt through the screen.

A Different Kind of Adventure

Unlike the high-concept existentialism of Soul (2020) or the reality-bending antics of Onward (2020), Luca is Refreshingly Small. It’s an adventure grounded in the stakes of childhood: winning a local triathlon, avoiding the town bully, and not getting splashed by a stray fountain. Enrico Casarosa, making his feature directorial debut, draws heavily from his own upbringing in Genoa, and that specificity is the film's secret weapon.

The plot follows Jacob Tremblay as the titular Luca, a "sea-goat" herder who is told the surface world is a place of monsters and harpoons. When he meets the confident, slightly delusional Alberto (Jack Dylan Grazer), he discovers that sea monsters instantly transform into humans when dry. The pair ventures into the town of Portorosso, teaming up with the firebrand Giulia (Emma Berman) to win the Portorosso Cup.

What makes this adventure feel earned isn't the threat of global catastrophe, but the internal "Silenzio, Bruno!"—the mantra Alberto teaches Luca to silence his inner critic. It’s a journey of identity and curiosity. In the current era of franchise saturation where every movie feels like a trailer for the next movie, Luca stands its ground as a self-contained story about the terror and exhilaration of being your true self in a world that might not be ready for you.

The Style of the "Streaming Era" Gem

The animation here represents a pivot for Pixar. Instead of the terrifyingly realistic textures seen in Toy Story 4, Luca embraces a "multiplane" aesthetic inspired by Studio Ghibli and traditional Italian 2D animation. The clouds look like scoops of gelato; the water is a vibrant, stylized teal. It feels hand-crafted. This stylistic choice was a smart move for the streaming era; it pops on a tablet or a home TV just as well as it would have on an IMAX screen.

I’ve heard plenty of discourse about the film’s "queer-coded" subtext, and while Enrico Casarosa has maintained it's a story about "pre-pubescent friendship," the beauty of the contemporary film landscape is how audiences reclaim these stories. Whether you see it as a coming-out allegory or a simple tale of brotherhood, the emotional resonance is undeniable. The stakes are personal, and that makes the climax—a bike race in the rain—feel more intense than a city-leveling alien invasion.

Also, we need to talk about the villain. Saverio Raimondo voices Ercole Visconti with such greasy, over-the-top arrogance that he is easily the most punchable villain in the entire Pixar canon. Watching a grown man bully children over a pasta-eating contest is the kind of low-stakes comedy I live for.

Behind the Scenes and Cult Status

The production of Luca is a fascinating snapshot of our current moment. The cast recorded their lines in makeshift studios—often literally inside their closets—due to COVID-19 lockdowns. Jack Dylan Grazer reportedly recorded his entire performance in his mother’s closet, which adds a layer of "indie" grit to a $200 million Pixar production.

The film has also developed a devoted cult following online, specifically among fans who appreciate its slower, "slice-of-life" pacing. Here are a few bits of Portorosso trivia that make the world feel even deeper:

The name "Portorosso" is a direct nod to Hayao Miyazaki’s Porco Rosso (1992), cementing the film's connection to Japanese animation masters. Maya Rudolph, who plays Luca’s mother, Daniela, brings her signature comedic timing to the role of an overprotective parent who spends half the movie kicking random children into fountains to see if they turn into fish. The director’s real-life best friend was actually named Alberto, and he was the "cool kid" who pushed Enrico out of his comfort zone. Look closely at the posters in the town; there are references to Roman Holiday and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, grounding the fantasy in a very specific 1950s cinematic reality. * The food—oh, the food. Pixar actually sent staff to Italy to learn how to make pasta from scratch so they could animate the physics of the noodles correctly. Pixar’s best movies are the ones where the creators are clearly obsessed with the texture of the pesto.

Luca is a reminder that cinema doesn't always need to be a "spectacle" to be spectacular. It captures that fleeting, bittersweet feeling of a summer that changes everything, right before the reality of "real life" sets back in. It’s funny, it’s gorgeous, and it’ll make you want to book a one-way ticket to the Italian coast with nothing but a dream and a very old scooter.

If you missed this because it was "just a streaming release," do yourself a favor: grab a bowl of trenette al pesto, silence your inner Bruno, and dive in. It’s an unforgettable trip that fits perfectly in your living room.