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“Well, conditions are quite harsh here. The guidance we offer all of our clients to commit their entire holdings into canned food and shotguns.” That bit of shrewd guidance comes from the Brain Gremlin – a genetically modified, articulate, bespectacled member of the oozy monster mob that overruns Manhattan’s high-tech Clamp Tower skyscraper in helmer Joe Dante’s madcap sequel Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Superficially, it’s simply an portfolio pointer from one monster to another. But, in a strange manner, it’s also remarkably sound life guidance. Seriously, listen to my reasoning.

When life takes a turn for the worse, the biggest mistake you can do is view events with undue solemnity. The Brain Gremlin comprehends this. Actually, a large portion of the toothy monsters that inhabit Dante’s unrestrained 1990 movie (arguably his best) possess the same wry, meta funny bone regarding the indistinct border separating everyday life and absolute bedlam. It’s one element of Gremlins 2: The New Batch that maintains my loyalty – and as I age, it’s the message that strikes the deepest chord.

A Youthful Fixation

Naturally, my connection with this movie wasn’t born on such an deeply thoughtful note. In my youth, we possessed merely a few well-worn videocassettes at home. Among them were Gremlins and its follow-up, the latter housed in a thick former-rental sleeve probably bought from an off-brand video shop and sporting snarling creatures on its worn-out artwork. I was immediately enamoured and these films did not delay lodging themselves inside my small, malleable brain. After that point, they became an practically routine part of my early years entertainment regimen.

Dante’s first film usually receives all the praise, thanks largely to its status as a partly frightening holiday classic – and don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched Gremlins more times than I can count. Nevertheless, its sequel seldom receives the same level of elevated esteem, which feels unjust. As a kid, I’d invariably jump at the prospect to watch Gremlins 2. During sunny school summer breaks, I’d lock myself inside 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 mental framework. If my parents noticed this obsession, they appeared unbothered.

Hidden Rewards and Societal References

As I grew, new understandings enhanced frequent screenings, amplifying the pleasure of watching small emerald creatures joyously wreck a New York high-rise. I learned the future-focused property magnate and Clamp Tower owner, Daniel Clamp (John Glover), was inspired directly by the eventual commander-in-chief Donald Trump, with his ginger staff member Marla (Haviland Morris) referencing his second wife Marla Maples. Luckily, Clamp demonstrates more humanity than his genuine article inspiration.

The “apocalyptic” video Clamp plays during maximum monster mayhem? I discovered it was modeled after a genuine “Doomsday” video commissioned by the CNN boss Ted Turner as a contingency for the world actually met its demise. I noticed how Dante made a special effort to film different iterations of a self-referential segment where Gremlins seize control of the exact movie you are viewing. One for cinemas, a separate one for tape and broadcast, each offering a winking bit of self-referential entertainment sorcery prior to the concept being mainstream.

A Lasting Appeal

While it was creature designer Rick Baker’s wonderfully grotesque creatures that caught my eye as a child, this hidden treasure maintained my fascination as an adult. Ultimately, I even conversed with Dante about it myself and he had no reservations informing me he made the movie with the direct intention of mocking those who loved its absurd-yet-genuine predecessor and desired a sequel. “We were going to make fun of the fact you came to see it,” he cheerfully disclosed. This cartoonish rebelliousness and resolve to not take his sequel as solemnly as his Warner Bros bosses clearly wanted him to, only deepened my appreciation further.

When I went through a sudden family bereavement earlier this year, I was surprised to find that, during my most profound sorrow, all I wanted to do was sit and watch Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Weird, right? Maybe not. The comforting familiarity it furnished was needed to dilute my mind’s mourning mire – but the stuff it had bestowed upon me as an adult were similarly beneficial.

Like Gremlins rampaging through a genetics laboratory, there’s certain elements in life you just cannot manage. Dante is aware of it. The Brain Gremlin knows it too. Sometimes, you have to follow their example: welcome the pandemonium, put everything you’ve got into preserved goods and firearms and try not to view the world with undue solemnity.

It’s robust worldly wisdom from a highly unexpected fountain – and it’s why Gremlins 2: The New Batch will forever remain my go-to cinematic solace.