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“Well, it’s rather brutal here. We’re advising all of our clients to invest all their resources into canned food and shotguns.” This piece of shrewd guidance comes from the Brain Gremlin – a lab-engineered, speaking, spectacled member of the slimy Gremlin horde that swarms Manhattan’s super-smart Clamp Tower skyscraper in helmer Joe Dante’s unhinged continuation Gremlins 2: The New Batch. On the surface, it’s simply an investment tip from one monster to another. However, oddly enough, it’s also surprisingly sturdy existential counsel. Truly, listen to my reasoning.

When life takes a turn for the worse, the worst thing you can do is take things too seriously. The Brain Gremlin comprehends this. Indeed, most of the dentally-gifted beasts that populate Dante’s wild 1990 film (debateably his greatest) possess the same knowing, self-referential funny bone regarding the hazy boundary separating everyday life and pure pandemonium. It’s a single component of Gremlins 2: The New Batch that maintains my loyalty – and with the passage of time, it’s the theme that echoes the loudest.

A Childhood Fascination

Naturally, my attachment to this movie didn’t start on such an introspective level. In my youth, we were limited to a few well-worn videocassettes at home. Part of that group were Gremlins and its follow-up, the latter housed in a thick former-rental sleeve almost certainly acquired from an non-chain rental store and featuring grimacing beasts on its knackered cover. I was immediately enamoured and these films did not delay inserting themselves inside my small, malleable brain. Henceforth, they became an practically routine part of my childhood viewing routine.

Dante’s first film typically gets all the praise, thanks mostly because of its reputation as a partly frightening holiday classic – and to be fair, I’ve watched Gremlins an incalculable number of times. However, its follow-up seldom receives the same level of high regard, which feels a travesty. 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 stick it on. When I acquired my personal TV-VHS combo unit, it stayed in constant rotation in my bedroom. With repetition, it etched itself permanently in my mental framework. If my parents observed this fixation, they appeared unbothered.

Subtler Rewards and Pop-Culture References

As I got older, new understandings enriched repeat viewings, elevating the fun of watching diminutive verdant beasts gleefully trash a New York high-rise. I learned the future-focused property magnate and Clamp Tower owner, Daniel Clamp (John Glover), was modeled closely on future president Donald Trump, with his auburn-haired worker Marla (Haviland Morris) echoing his former spouse Marla Maples. Fortunately, Clamp possesses greater compassion than his actual-world equivalent.

The “doomsday” video Clamp plays during the height of creature carnage? I discovered it was based on a genuine “Doomsday” video created by the CNN boss Ted Turner in case the world really ended. I noticed how Dante made a special effort to film alternate cuts of a meta sequence where Gremlins seize control of the exact movie you are viewing. A version for theaters, one for VHS and TV, each providing a grinning portion of fourth-wall-breaking cultural alchemy before the term was even a thing.

A Persistent Influence

While it was creature designer Rick Baker’s gloriously nasty-looking creatures that caught my eye as a child, this hidden treasure maintained my fascination as an adult. In time, I even interviewed Dante about it myself and he had no hesitation informing me he made the movie with the express purpose of mocking 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 cheerfully disclosed. This cartoonish rebelliousness and commitment to not take his sequel as gravely as his Warner Bros bosses obviously desired, only increased my affection for it.

When I experienced a unexpected loss in the family recently, I was astonished to realize that, during my deepest grief, all I wanted to do was sit and watch Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Odd, no? Maybe not. The comforting familiarity it offered was necessary to weaken my mind’s grief morass – but the stuff it had imparted to me as an adult were equally valuable.

Like Gremlins tearing apart a genetics laboratory, there’s particular aspects in life you just cannot manage. Dante understands this. The Brain Gremlin shares this wisdom. Sometimes, you have to emulate them: welcome the pandemonium, put everything you’ve got into canned food and shotguns and try not to view the world with undue solemnity.

It’s robust worldly wisdom from a most improbable origin – and it’s the reason Gremlins 2: The New Batch will always be my feelgood film.