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“Well, the situation is pretty dire here. Our recommendation is all of our clients to invest all their resources into canned food and shotguns.” This nugget of shrewd guidance comes from the Brain Gremlin – a lab-engineered, talking, glasses-wearing member of the oozy monster mob that overruns Manhattan’s ultra-modern Clamp Tower skyscraper in filmmaker Joe Dante’s zany follow-up Gremlins 2: The New Batch. At first glance, it’s merely an financial suggestion from one monster to another. Yet, in a strange manner, it’s also remarkably sound existential counsel. Seriously, hear me out.

When situations deteriorate, the worst thing you can do is take things too seriously. The Brain Gremlin understands this. In fact, the majority of the toothy monsters that occupy Dante’s wild 1990 film (arguably his best) possess the same sly, self-aware funny bone regarding the blurry line separating everyday life and pure pandemonium. It’s one element of Gremlins 2: The New Batch that ensures my return – and with the passage of time, it’s the underlying idea that strikes the deepest chord.

A Childhood Obsession

Naturally, my fondness for this movie did not begin on such an introspective level. In my youth, we only had a few scratched-up video tapes at home. Part of that group were Gremlins and its sequel, the latter housed in a bulky previously-rented case probably bought from an off-brand video shop and boasting growling monsters on its worn-out artwork. I was instantly captivated and these films quickly proceeded embedding themselves inside my young, susceptible psyche. From then on, they became an near-everyday part of my early years entertainment regimen.

Dante’s first film typically gets all the accolades, thanks primarily due to its legacy as a moderately spooky festive favorite – and let me be clear, I’ve watched Gremlins on countless occasions. Nevertheless, its successor seldom receives the same level of high regard, which feels criminal. As a kid, I’d invariably jump at the prospect to watch Gremlins 2. During long summer holidays, I’d retreat into the house and play it. When I acquired my personal TV-VHS combo unit, it remained on repeat in my bedroom. With repetition, it became deeply rooted in my mindset. If my parents observed this fixation, they appeared unbothered.

Subtler Rewards and Cultural Nuggets

As I grew, new insights enhanced repeat viewings, heightening the enjoyment of watching small emerald creatures happily vandalize a New York high-rise. I learned the forward-thinking real estate tycoon 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) alluding to his one-time partner Marla Maples. Luckily, Clamp demonstrates more humanity than his actual-world equivalent.

The “doomsday” video Clamp plays during the height of creature carnage? I discovered it was modeled after a real-life “Doomsday” video created by the CNN boss Ted Turner as a contingency for the world actually met its demise. I noticed how Dante went out of his way to film varying versions of a self-referential segment where Gremlins take over the exact movie you are viewing. An edit for movie houses, a separate one for tape and broadcast, each offering a winking bit of self-referential entertainment sorcery ahead of its time.

A Lasting Influence

While it was creature designer Rick Baker’s fantastically vile creatures that drew my gaze as a child, this subsurface richness kept me hooked as an adult. Ultimately, I even spoke to Dante about it myself and he had no qualms informing me he made the movie with the direct intention of ridiculing those who loved its goofy-but-heartfelt predecessor and wanted more. “We were going to make fun of the fact you came to see it,” he gleefully confessed. This cartoonish defiance and resolve to not take his sequel as seriously as his Warner Bros bosses evidently expected, only increased my affection for it.

When I went through a unexpected loss in the family earlier this year, I was astonished to realize that, during my deepest grief, all I desired to do was sit and watch Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Odd, no? Perhaps not. The soothing reminiscence it offered was essential to thin out my mind’s sadness sludge – but the stuff it had imparted to me as an adult were similarly beneficial.

Like Gremlins tearing apart a genetics laboratory, there’s certain elements in life you just cannot manage. Dante is aware of it. The Brain Gremlin shares this wisdom. Sometimes, you have to emulate them: welcome the pandemonium, put everything you’ve got into preserved goods and firearms and try not to approach life with excessive gravity.

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