‘Smurfs’ (2025) Review: Rihanna Powers A Blue-Hued, Music-Fuelled Reboot

La la la la la la—the glizzy blue creatures are back, louder, weirder, and bolder than ever. This vibrant reboot yanks the Smurfs out of their comfort forest and hurls them into a kaleidoscopic adventure full of teamwork, mischief, and Rihanna-led musical numbers. It’s part multiverse romp, part pop concert, and entirely unserious—in the best way. What follows is a sugar rush of colour and chaos that doesn’t always make sense, but never really needs to.

It all kicks off with that familiar jingle—the classic Smurf chorus echoing through a peaceful village. Then, BAM: the vinyl scratches, the beat drops, and suddenly we’re in a remix. A pulsing pop-dance track takes over, announcing that this film isn’t here to coast on nostalgia. Instead, it’s remixing the brand with glitter, lore, and musical energy.

Now, this isn’t the Smurfs’ first time on the big screen. Back in the early 2010s, we got those New York-set live-action hybrids starring Neil Patrick Harris and Katy Perry as Smurfette. Those entries were best remembered for awkward human/Smurf bonding and a mildly alarming fixation on Smurfette’s hair. ‘Smurfs’ is technically still a hybrid too—it’s set across real-world locations like Paris, Munich, and the Australian Outback.

And yes, there are CGI kangaroos.

This time around, the humans mostly fade into the background. The Smurfs run the show. And visually, the film leans fully into vivid comic-book animation layered over striking live-action backdrops.

Visually speaking, it’s a welcome return to the source. The Smurfs now resemble the original creations of Belgian cartoonist Peyo—rounder, livelier, and full of expressive charm. They’re also unbearably cute—like plushies brought to life with attitude. The animation embraces a bouncy, squash-and-stretch style, enhanced by action lines, zippy sound effects, and comic speech bubbles that sometimes pop into the 3D space and physically knock the Smurfs around.

Meanwhile, before the mayhem kicks in, the film lays down its lore. Long ago, four magical books kept balance in the universe. But when a league of intergalactic evil wizards—Asmodius (Octavia Spencer), Chernobog (Nick Kroll), Jezebeth (Hannah Waddingham), and the particularly persistent Razamel (JP Karliak)—decide to erase all goodness, the books become targets. One of them, the sassy and sentient Jaunty Grimoire (Amy Sedaris), manages to escape and has been hiding ever since.

Eventually, we shift to present-day Smurf Village. That’s where we meet No Name (James Corden)—a Smurf without a defining trait, which in this world is a full-blown identity crisis. Every Smurf has something: baking, yelling, and doing sound effects. But No Name? Nothing sticks. He tries cobbling. He tries shark taming. Yeah, he even tries just… trying. Still, no dice.

Thankfully, Smurfette (Rihanna) is always in his corner. She encourages him to keep experimenting. But in a place where your name is literally tied to your talent, not fitting in hits hard.

Then comes a surprisingly emotional musical number. No Name sings about being the odd one out. That moment sparks something. Literally. He starts glowing, levitating, and—without meaning to—activates Jaunty Grimoire’s hidden magic. That surge sends out a signal, and Razamel, ever watchful, locks on. Things escalate quickly.

Razamel wastes no time. He rips a portal above Smurf Village, triggering a tidal wave of chaos. Smurfs get sucked into the void like blue jellybeans. Papa Smurf (John Goodman) tries to keep the village grounded. But just before he’s pulled into the swirl, he shouts one final instruction: “Find Ken!” It’s cryptic, but it’s all the Smurfs have left to go on.

What follows is a whirlwind. The Smurfs launch into a globe-trotting mission packed with set pieces, songs, and rapid costume changes. It’s chaotic, colourful, and honestly kind of adorable.

One minute they’re swinging through vinyl records, the next they’re dodging kangaroo stampedes in the Australian Outback—yes, there are CGI kangaroos, didn’t we say that before? The pace rarely slows down—sometimes to its detriment—but it stays energetic. Whether they’re portal-hopping, glitter-dancing, or rapping to save the day, there’s always a beat drop and a wink.

Comparisons to Trolls are hard to avoid. Both films follow a duo—Branch and Poppy over there, No Name and Smurfette over here—on a vibrant, music-fueled journey through weird worlds. They’re small. They’re misunderstood. And they sing their way toward self-acceptance. Heck, some poofy hairy characters even show up later on.

But where Trolls keeps its structure tidy and emotional arcs a little more clear, ‘Smurfs’ embraces the messy. It’s more chaotic and less concerned with coherence than it is with colour and vibes.

Still, this reboot feels more in tune with the spirit of the Smurfs than past efforts. It’s not the classic version, sure—but expecting them to stay stuck in the ‘80s forever isn’t exactly fair. And compared to the uncanny CGI cat that screeched through Times Square in the last franchise? We’ll take vinyl portals any day.

Yes, it still ‘Roger Rabbits’ its way through real settings. But here’s the twist—the style never shifts. The Smurfs remain animated in every scene, whether they’re tiptoeing across cobblestones or bounding through Outback dust. That consistency makes all the difference.

As for the plot, it’s your standard kid-friendly recipe. A chosen one. A glowing destiny. A big bad. And yes, a climactic moment where friendship unlocks the ultimate power. It’s familiar, bordering on predictable. But ‘Smurfs’ isn’t trying to be ‘Inside Out’. It’s here to entertain and get the kids bopping in their seats.

In that, it mostly succeeds. The animation bursts with energy. The transitions snap and swirl. Visually, it’s like licking a rainbow popsicle while bouncing on a trampoline.

Along the way, the Smurfs cross paths with an ever-growing roster of oddball characters—like Natasha Lyonne’s poofy-sphere Mama Poots, and eventually Ken (Kurt Russell), revealed to be Papa’s long-lost brother. The lore keeps dropping, the cast keeps expanding, and the weirdness only escalates.

Oh, and yes—Gargamel is still here in this version, along with a not-CGI – and frankly, cuter – Azrael. But this time, he’s more of a lesser evil. The real threat comes from his more dangerous and unhinged brother, Razamel. Compared to the chaos Razamel unleashes, Gargamel almost feels like comic relief, a washed-up wizard just trying to keep up in this modern age.

Toward the end, the film even swings big. As the Smurfs open portals to alternate worlds, the art style begins to shift. There’s a Play-Doh world. A pencil sketch world. An Atari-style pixel universe. Even a full-blown anime sequence. It’s brief but bold, evoking ‘The Amazing World of Gumball’ in its ability to play with form and tone.

Musically? It gets the job done. But don’t expect the next Timberlake bop like “Can’t Stop the Feeling.” Unlike ‘Trolls’ or ‘K-Pop Demon Hunters’, this soundtrack won’t be dominating the radio waves. The songs are fine—forgettable outside the film, but fun in the moment. They move the plot, add emotion, and provide breathers between dimension-hopping chaos.

What grounds the glitter is the film’s core message. No Name’s arc is about identity—about feeling out of place when everyone else seems to know exactly who they are. That’s a resonant theme, especially for younger viewers still finding themselves.

The film also values community. Every Smurf brings something to the table. And Papa Smurf’s backstory adds a hint of guilt and redemption. The village, it turns out, was built as a second chance. It’s not deep, but it gives the silliness a bit of weight.

Then, of course, the final number hits. A glittery, pulsing, all-hands-on-deck dance sequence—because how else are you supposed to end a modern animated film?

‘Smurfs’ doesn’t aim to reinvent the genre. But it embraces its chaos with confidence, cuteness, and charm. And it practically begs us: “Please don’t stop the music”. Sure, it’s generic in parts—but the kids in our screening were laughing, singing, and vibing with the colours. And honestly? That’s the only verdict that matters.