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“Well, the situation is pretty dire here. Our recommendation is all of our clients to put everything they’ve got into preserved goods and firearms.” That bit of wise counsel comes from the Brain Gremlin – a genetically modified, articulate, spectacled member of the slick creature crowd that overruns Manhattan’s high-tech Clamp Tower skyscraper in helmer Joe Dante’s zany follow-up Gremlins 2: The New Batch. On the surface, it’s merely an financial suggestion from one monster to another. However, oddly enough, it’s also remarkably sound existential counsel. Seriously, hear me out.

When things go bad, the most counterproductive action you can do is take things too seriously. The Brain Gremlin grasps this. Indeed, a large portion of the toothy monsters that occupy Dante’s wild 1990 film (debateably his greatest) possess the same wry, meta sense of humour regarding the blurry line separating everyday life and absolute bedlam. It’s one element of Gremlins 2: The New Batch that ensures my return – and with the passage of time, it’s the theme that strikes the deepest chord.

An Early Life Fascination

Of course, my connection with this movie wasn’t born on such an introspective level. As a child, we were limited to a few battered VHS tapes at home. Included within that collection were Gremlins and its follow-up, the latter housed in a chunky ex-rental box almost certainly acquired from an independent video outlet and boasting grimacing beasts on its knackered cover. I was right away smitten and these films did not delay embedding themselves inside my young, susceptible psyche. From then on, they became an practically routine part of my youthful watching schedule.

Dante’s initial installment commonly garners all the praise, thanks mostly because of its legacy as a semi-scary seasonal fave – and to be fair, I’ve watched Gremlins an incalculable number of times. That said, its successor infrequently obtains the same level of elevated esteem, which feels criminal. As a kid, I’d never miss an opportunity to watch Gremlins 2. During sunny school summer breaks, I’d retreat into the house and play it. When I acquired my personal TV-VHS combo unit, it remained on repeat in my bedroom. With repetition, it ingrained itself in my mindset. If my parents noticed this obsession, they gave no indication of concern.

Subtler Rewards and Societal References

As I grew, new insights rewarded repeat viewings, amplifying the pleasure of watching diminutive verdant beasts gleefully trash a New York high-rise. I learned the forward-thinking development mogul and Clamp Tower owner, Daniel Clamp (John Glover), was modeled closely on the eventual commander-in-chief Donald Trump, with his red-headed employee Marla (Haviland Morris) alluding to his one-time partner Marla Maples. Luckily, Clamp demonstrates more humanity than his real-life counterpart.

The “doomsday” video Clamp plays during the height of creature carnage? I discovered it was modeled after a genuine “Doomsday” video created by the CNN boss Ted Turner as a contingency for the world truly faced apocalypse. I noticed how Dante went out of his way to film varying versions of a self-referential segment where Gremlins seize control of the actual feature in progress. An edit for movie houses, one for VHS and TV, each providing a grinning portion of fourth-wall-breaking cultural alchemy before the term was even a thing.

A Lasting Legacy

While it was creature designer Rick Baker’s wonderfully grotesque creatures that caught my eye as a child, this subsurface richness kept me hooked as an adult. Eventually, I even conversed with Dante about it myself and he had no hesitation telling me he made the movie with the specific aim of ridiculing those who loved its silly-yet-sincere predecessor and craved further installments. “We were going to make fun of the fact you came to see it,” he happily revealed. This Looney Tunes-esque insubordination and determination to not take his sequel as seriously as his Warner Bros bosses evidently expected, only increased my affection for it.

When I endured a abrupt familial death recently, I was taken aback to discover that, during my heightest mourning, all I wanted to do was sit and watch Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Odd, no? Possibly not. The comforting familiarity it furnished was needed to dilute my mind’s grief morass – but the insights it had bestowed upon me as an adult were similarly beneficial.

Like Gremlins tearing apart a genetics laboratory, there’s particular aspects in life you just are powerless over. Dante is aware of it. The Brain Gremlin shares this wisdom. Sometimes, you have to follow their example: welcome the pandemonium, commit your entire being into tinned provisions and hunting rifles and try not to view the world with undue solemnity.

It’s powerful existential guidance from a most improbable origin – and it’s the reason Gremlins 2: The New Batch will eternally stand as my comfort movie.