Paddington in Peru

There is a terrifying weight to the number three in cinema. By the time a franchise reaches its third installment, the gears usually start to grind, the charm begins to curdle into a "brand," and the original spark is often smothered by the sheer necessity of being bigger. For those of us who consider Paddington 2 (2017) to be a foundational text of modern secular goodness, the news of Paddington in Peru felt like a precarious gamble. We’ve spent seven years protected by the memory of a perfect film, and now, with a new director and a significant casting shake-up, the bear was finally stepping out of the safety of Windsor Gardens.

I watched this during a matinee where the air conditioning was set to "Arctic Tundra," which felt ironically appropriate for a bear from Darkest Peru, even if I was shivering through my popcorn. But as soon as that familiar, polite voice of Ben Whishaw filled the theater, the chill didn't matter. The magic, while perhaps a little more weather-worn than before, is still very much intact.

Changing the Guard in the Garden

The most immediate hurdle for any fan is the "Sally Hawkins shaped hole" in the middle of the Brown family. Emily Mortimer steps into the role of Mary Brown, and while she’s a gifted performer, Emily Mortimer playing Mary Brown feels like someone swapped your favorite comfort blanket for a slightly stiffer, brand-new one. It takes a good thirty minutes to adjust to the new energy; Hawkins had a whimsical, ethereal quality that felt almost supernatural, whereas Mortimer plays Mary with a more grounded, albeit charming, franticness.

Behind the camera, the shift from Paul King (who departed to give us the sugary spectacle of Wonka) to music video veteran Dougal Wilson is surprisingly seamless. Wilson inherits a very specific visual language—wes-anderson-lite symmetry combined with a storybook warmth—and he doesn't drop the ball. There’s a beautiful sequence involving a map that unfolds with the tactile joy of a pop-up book, proving that even in our era of "The Volume" and flat LED backgrounds, the Paddington team still prioritizes texture. It turns out Wilson was actually the director behind some of the most iconic John Lewis Christmas adverts in the UK, which explains why he knows exactly how to weaponize sentimentality without making you feel like you’re being mugged for your emotions.

Jungle Fever and Hammy Villains

The "Adventure" part of this adventure-comedy kicks in when the Browns head to Peru to visit Aunt Lucy at the Home for Retired Bears, only to find she’s gone missing on a "scientific quest." This shift in locale is the film's biggest risk. The previous films drew so much power from Paddington’s status as an immigrant navigating the rigid, often absurd social structures of London. Moving the action to the Amazon rainforest turns it into a more traditional "quest" movie, which occasionally feels a bit more "standard franchise" than the idiosyncratic brilliance of the first two.

However, any worries about the plot becoming generic are instantly dispelled the moment Antonio Banderas appears as Hunter Cabot, a riverboat captain with a legacy complex. Antonio Banderas treats the scenery like a five-course meal, delivering a performance so wonderfully hammy it belongs in a deli window. He is having the time of his life, playing a man haunted by his ancestors and followed by a literal "ghost" of his own ego. Between Banderas and Olivia Colman, who plays a singing, guitar-shredding nun (yes, you read that correctly), the film maintains that specific British tradition of casting Oscar-level talent and asking them to be as ridiculous as humanly possible.

The Bear in the Modern Moment

In an era where we are constantly bombarded by "franchise fatigue" and legacy sequels that feel like cynical cash grabs, Paddington in Peru feels remarkably earnest. It doesn't try to "deconstruct" the bear or make him "gritty" for a 2024 audience. It understands that in a polarized, cynical cultural moment, the most radical thing a film can do is advocate for kindness and a hard stare for those who forget their manners.

The CGI on Paddington himself remains the gold standard. In the seven years since we last saw him, the technology has reached a point where his fur, the way water clings to his raincoat, and the micro-expressions in his eyes are indistinguishable from reality. It’s a testament to the crew at Framestore that I never once felt like I was watching a digital asset; I was watching a small, vulnerable friend in a very big jungle. The production faced its own "adventure" during filming, navigating the tail end of pandemic protocols and the logistical nightmare of filming in both the UK and Colombia (doubling for Peru), yet the film feels cohesive and bright.

Is it as tight as the second film? Not quite. The pacing in the middle act gets a little tangled in the undergrowth, and the mystery of Aunt Lucy’s disappearance is solved with a logic that is "charming" if you’re eight and "convenient" if you’re thirty-eight. But when the emotional beats hit—particularly a sequence involving a flickering film projector and a mountain peak—I defy anyone not to feel a lump in their throat.

The film concludes with a sense of homecoming that feels earned, reminding us why this specific IP has survived the streaming-wars era while others have crumbled. It’s a movie that values the "small" things—a marmalade sandwich, a polite "thank you," a family sticking together—even when the backdrop is a sprawling jungle. While I missed the cozy streets of London, the trip to Peru proves that Paddington’s heart is the same in any hemisphere. If you’re looking for a reason to believe that big-budget cinema can still be gentle, this is your ticket.