Slumberland (2022)

Slumberland is the kind of family fantasy that earns its wonder the old-fashioned way: by rooting every dazzling sight in a child’s very real longing, then letting imagination do the heavy lifting. Francis Lawrence turns the dreamworld into a playful, perilous playground of shifting logic and storybook spectacle, while Marlow Barkley gives Nemo an emotional clarity that keeps the film from floating away on pure visual sugar. Jason Momoa is a gleefully eccentric wildcard as Flip, the sort of larger-than-life companion who makes each new dream feel like an invitation to adventure rather than another stop on a plot outline. It’s unabashedly sentimental and aimed squarely at families—so if you’re allergic to earnestness you may resist it—but if you’re willing to meet it halfway, it’s a warm, imaginative ride with genuine heart.

Slumberland is clearly aiming for a big, kid-friendly fantasy about grief—using wild dreamscapes and a chaotic guide (Jason Momoa doing his loudest, loosest work) to help a girl process losing her dad. The problem is it often mistakes noise and visual busyness for wonder, so the emotional beats land softer than they should and the story can feel like a string of set pieces held together by an unsure script. If you’re hoping for something as imaginative and sharp as the premise, or a truly moving family film, this may feel glossy, familiar, and a bit exhausting. Still, it’s colorful, mostly gentle in content, and could work fine for families who just want a harmless, effects-heavy adventure and don’t mind the heart being a little undercooked.