Directed by Daniel Chong, Hoppers takes a proudly weird Pixar hook—teenager Mabel Tanaka (Piper Curda)“hops” her consciousness into a hyper-real robotic beaver—and turns it into a surprisingly sharp, big-hearted environmental adventure. It plays like a return to form: gag-dense, fast on its feet, and still willing to land a few emotional punches when the forest (and Mabel’s conscience) is on the line.
Plot Breakdown (With Key Turns)
Mabel’s early “field tests” are pure chaos in the best way—learning to move, sniff out threats, and problem-solve as an animal while trying not to get caught. The film’s funniest stretch is this trial-and-error phase, where the beaver body becomes a slapstick toolkit and a stress test for Mabel’s confidence.
Things tighten up when Mabel realises the forest isn’t a cute backdrop but a living system with rules: rival animals, survival hierarchies, and a wary reaction to anything that feels like human meddling. The Mayor’s “progress” pitch soon turns into machinery chewing into protected land, and Mabel goes from observer to disruptor.
Curda’s performance is can’t really be judged in a blanket “Pixar lead automatically works” way. The voice work has a scrappy, slightly breathless energy that matches Mabel’s whole deal: she’s smart, impulsive, and always two seconds away from talking herself into (or out of) trouble. Curda lands the comedy in the “learning to be a beaver” stretch—little panicked recalculations, quick bursts of confidence, then the inevitable wipeout—without making Mabel feel noisy or try-hard. More importantly, when the film pivots from goofy experimentation to genuine responsibility, Curda finds a softer register that sells the creeping guilt. It keeps the emotional beats from feeling like they were stapled on in the last reel.
John Hamm’s performance channelling his ‘Mad Men’‘s trademark pitch ,is doing something that family films don’t always bother with: he makes the antagonist sound like someone who’d win a local election. The Mayor isn’t moustache-twirly; he’s calm, persuasive, and allergic to admitting harm. Hamm’s smooth authority gives the “progress” pitch a believable shine—exactly the kind that makes people nod along until they notice the forest being shredded behind the slideshow. The vocal choices are controlled rather than showy, which is why the character feels unsettling: he doesn’t rage,
Bobby Moynihan’s performance is the one who reliably spikes the film’s busier action passages with a clean punchline or a perfectly timed bit of confusion. The voice is instantly readable—warm, hectic, and slightly unhinged—in a way that makes exposition go down easier. Even when the plot is sprinting, Moynihan’s delivery gives scenes a bit of breathing room, like the movie is winking at the audience before it throws itself into the next chase.
Our Verdict?
Hoppers feels like Pixar remembering that “high concept” isn’t the same thing as “one joke.” The body-swap beaver premise becomes a full physical-comedy engine: teeth, tail, river architecture, scent trails, the indignity of waddling at speed—the film keeps finding new ways to make Mabel’s borrowed body both a superpower and a problem. The best sequences aren’t just funny; they’re clear, readable set-pieces with stakes that build. A lot of modern animated blockbusters get so frantic they blur their own gags. Hoppers mostly stays crisp.
The eco angle is where the film earns its keep. It doesn’t do the cartoonish “humans are bad” speechifying; it lets the forest feel like a system with its own politics, dangers, and limits. That choice matters, because it stops Mabel from being a saviour parachuting in with perfect answers. She’s meddling in a place that doesn’t need her ego—just her attention and, eventually, her willingness to take a hit for something bigger than her. That’s a more interesting (and more watchable) message than a neat little lecture.
There’s also a pleasantly prickly edge to the humour. The film can be sweet, sure, but it isn’t afraid of awkwardness—Mabel misreading animal behaviour, pushing her luck, taking the wrong lesson from a small win. That’s where the comedy and the character work meet: the laughs come from personality, not just from volume.
Where it wobbles is the late-game tempo. The third act goes bigger and darker—machines, crowds, cross-cut chaos—and it occasionally sacrifices emotional clarity for speed. A couple of major turns happen so quickly that they land as plot mechanics rather than moments. It’s still exciting, but it’s the one stretch where the film’s sincerity threatens to get swept away by its own momentum. The tonal swing may also feel intense for younger viewers once the danger ramps up, especially because the forest stakes are framed as real loss rather than “reset button” peril.
UK/US Release Context
In the UK, Hoppers is positioned as a major family cinema play—ideal for weekend crowds who want laughs first and feelings second. In the US, it’s framed as a mainstream animated event designed to pull in kids and the lapsed Pixar faithful, leaning on the “return-to-form” vibe without pretending it’s nostalgia bait.
Final Verdict
Hoppers is a gag-dense, cleverly staged Pixar crowd-pleaser with an eco story that actually has teeth. Curda and Hamm are both good for very different reasons—one makes the chaos human, the other makes the “reasonable villain” feel real—and Moynihan adds reliable comic spark. The finale moves a touch too fast, but the film’s heart and craft carry it over the line.
4/5 Stars
