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“Well, it’s rather brutal here. We’re advising all of our clients to put everything they’ve got into canned food and shotguns.” This nugget of wise counsel comes from the Brain Gremlin – a genetically modified, talking, bespectacled member of the oozy monster mob that infests Manhattan’s super-smart Clamp Tower skyscraper in filmmaker Joe Dante’s madcap sequel Gremlins 2: The New Batch. At first glance, it’s simply an financial suggestion from one monster to another. Yet, curiously, it’s also surprisingly sturdy life advice. Truly, listen to my reasoning.

When things go bad, the most counterproductive action you can do is take things too seriously. The Brain Gremlin understands this. In fact, the majority of the dentally-gifted beasts that populate Dante’s chaotic 1990 feature (possibly his finest) possess the same knowing, self-referential funny bone regarding the blurry line separating everyday life and unadulterated chaos. It’s a particular aspect of Gremlins 2: The New Batch that keeps me coming back – and as I age, it’s the underlying idea that echoes the loudest.

An Early Life Obsession

Understandably, my attachment to this movie did not begin on such an philosophical plane. As a child, we only had a few scratched-up video tapes at home. Part of that group were Gremlins and its second chapter, the latter housed in a chunky ex-rental box probably bought from an independent video outlet and featuring snarling creatures on its tattered front. I was right away smitten and these films quickly proceeded embedding themselves inside my small, malleable brain. After that point, they became an practically routine part of my early years entertainment regimen.

Dante’s original typically gets all the accolades, thanks mostly because of its status as a partly frightening holiday classic – and let me be clear, I’ve watched Gremlins more times than I can count. Nevertheless, its follow-up rarely gets the same level of elevated esteem, which feels a travesty. As a kid, I’d always seize the chance to watch Gremlins 2. During sunny school summer breaks, I’d retreat into the house and pop it in. When I obtained my very own TV-VHS combo unit, it stayed in constant rotation in my bedroom. With repetition, it etched itself permanently in my psyche. If my parents detected this preoccupation, they gave no indication of concern.

Subtler Rewards and Societal References

As I got older, new revelations enriched frequent screenings, elevating the fun of watching small emerald creatures happily vandalize a New York high-rise. I learned the future-focused development mogul and Clamp Tower owner, Daniel Clamp (John Glover), was based squarely upon the later-to-be-president Donald Trump, with his red-headed employee Marla (Haviland Morris) alluding to his one-time partner Marla Maples. Thankfully, Clamp demonstrates more humanity than his real-life counterpart.

The “apocalyptic” video Clamp plays during maximum monster mayhem? I discovered it was inspired by a genuine “Doomsday” video commissioned by the CNN boss Ted Turner in case the world really ended. I noticed how Dante made a special effort to film varying versions of a self-referential segment where Gremlins hijack the very film you’re watching. One for cinemas, a separate one for tape and broadcast, each providing a grinning portion of fourth-wall-breaking cultural alchemy before the term was even a thing.

A Persistent Appeal

While it was creature designer Rick Baker’s wonderfully grotesque creatures that drew my gaze as a child, this subsurface richness held my interest as an adult. Eventually, I even spoke to Dante about it myself and he had no reservations telling me he made the movie with the specific aim of ridiculing 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 Looney Tunes-esque rebelliousness and determination to not take his sequel as solemnly as his Warner Bros bosses clearly wanted him to, only made me love it even more.

When I endured a unexpected loss in the family not long ago, I was astonished to realize that, during my deepest grief, all I felt compelled to do was sit and watch Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Weird, right? Perhaps not. The comforting familiarity it offered was essential to weaken my mind’s mourning mire – but the perspectives it had bestowed upon me as an adult were equally valuable.

Like Gremlins rampaging through a genetics laboratory, there’s particular aspects in life you just can’t control. Dante knows it. The Brain Gremlin shares this wisdom. Sometimes, you have to follow their example: embrace the chaos, commit your entire being into tinned provisions and hunting rifles and try not to take things too seriously.

It’s powerful existential guidance from a highly unexpected fountain – and it’s the reason Gremlins 2: The New Batch will eternally stand as my go-to cinematic solace.