The Twits

I’ve always maintained that Roald Dahl’s stories are at their best when they are just a little bit repulsive. There’s a specific, sticky-fingered joy in his work that most modern "family" movies are too sanitized to touch. I sat down to watch the 2025 animated adaptation of The Twits on my laptop while my neighbor was outside power-washing his driveway; the rhythmic thrum-hiss of the water against the pavement provided a weirdly appropriate industrial soundtrack to a film that is essentially about the friction between two very oily people.

Released into the thick of the Netflix-Dahl era—following the streamer’s massive acquisition of the author’s catalog—this version of The Twits had a lot of "IP-fatigue" hurdles to clear. We’ve seen the whimsical Dahl (Wonka), the symmetrical Dahl (Wes Anderson’s shorts), and now, director Phil Johnston gives us the "unwashed" Dahl. It’s a riotous, visually gooey experience that manages to be the cinematic equivalent of finding a year-old Cheeto under the sofa and deciding to eat it anyway.

A Marriage Made in a Dumpster

The success of The Twits lives and dies on the central couple. If you don't believe these two people genuinely despise each other while being utterly inseparable, the whole thing collapses. Casting Margo Martindale as Credenza Twit and Johnny Vegas as Jim Twit is, frankly, an act of divine intervention. Martindale—usually the "Character Actress" legend we see in things like The Americans or BoJack Horseman—brings a raspy, terrifying vitality to Credenza. Margo Martindale sounds like she’s been gargling gravel and spite for three weeks, and it is perfection.

Johnny Vegas, meanwhile, brings that specific brand of chaotic, bumbling British energy that makes Jim Twit feel like a sentient pile of discarded laundry. Their chemistry is built on a foundation of "The Worm" (a prank involving spaghetti and earthworms) and "The Shrinks" (a slow-burn gaslighting attempt involving wooden planks). Watching them trade barbs is the highlight of the film’s first act. The screenplay, co-written by Johnston and Meg Favreau, understands that the humor shouldn't just be slapstick; it should be psychological warfare waged by two people who haven't seen a bar of soap since the Clinton administration.

Animation for the "Grotesque-Cute" Era

Visually, the film dodges the "minion-fication" trap. Jellyfish Pictures, the studio behind the animation, opted for a style that feels tactile and slightly asymmetrical. There’s a layer of grime over everything. You can almost smell the bird pie. This isn't the slick, plastic-wrap look of some contemporary blockbusters; it’s more in line with the "spider-verse" ripple effect where textures are prioritized over "realism."

The plot expands on the slim 1980 book by introducing a heist-style rescue mission. Maitreyi Ramakrishnan (from Never Have I Ever) and Ryan Anderson Lopez play the two children, Beesha and Busby, who team up with the Muggle-Wumps. Now, I’ll admit I was worried about the animal side of the story. Often, "magical animals" in these movies are just vehicles for pop-culture references and dance breaks. But Natalie Portman as Mary Muggle-Wump brings a surprisingly grounded, almost melancholy dignity to the matriarch of the upside-down monkeys. She keeps the stakes high even when the Twits are busy gluing themselves to the ceiling.

The Netflix Content Soup Problem

My main gripe is one that haunts almost every major streaming release in the 2020s. There’s a lingering sense that the film is being "optimized" for an audience that might be scrolling on their phones. Some of the action sequences feel a bit frantic, designed to keep a toddler’s attention at the expense of the book’s legendary slow-burn tension. In an era where "content" is pumped out to satisfy an algorithm, The Twits occasionally feels like it’s trying too hard to be a "franchise starter" rather than just a weird little story about two awful people.

However, the film finds its heart in the classic Dahl moral: If you have good thoughts, they will shine out of your face like sunbeams. In a 2025 landscape often defined by social media posturing and "curated" perfection, there’s something genuinely refreshing about a movie that celebrates the mess. It doesn't shy away from being ugly, which, ironically, makes it one of the most honest family films I’ve seen in a while. It’s a film that knows exactly how much dirt is under its own fingernails and isn't afraid to show you.

Ultimately, The Twits is a messy, loud, and delightfully mean-spirited romp that honors the spirit of the source material while modernizing the "village" dynamics. It’s the perfect length—99 minutes is the sweet spot for comedy—and it doesn’t overstay its welcome. While it might not reach the "instant classic" heights of something like Matilda (1996), it’s a solid win for Netflix’s Dahl library. If you can handle a few jokes about beard-food and bird-trapping, it’s a great way to spend an afternoon. Just maybe don't eat spaghetti while you watch it.