THE STORY – Billy 5000, a teenage gig worker with a rise-and-grind mindset, aims to make $5,000. His quest is derailed by a gelatinous alien’s appearance.
THE CAST – Jack Corbett, Janeane Garofalo, Tavi Gevinson, Elsie Fisher, Grace Kuhlenschmidt, Julio Torres, Joe Pera, Miya Folick, Sarah Sherman, Cole Escola, Max Wittert, Chris Fleming, Eva Victor, River L. Ramirez & Demi Adejuyigbe
THE TEAM – Julian Glander (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 90 Minutes
There’s something wonderfully off about Florida. The sun shines hot, but the stench of swampy air can never seem to dissipate. “Boys Go to Jupiter,” Julian Glander’s dreamy, self-produced animated coming-of-age musical, taps directly into this paradox visually and tonally: sun-soaked yet swampy, festive yet empty, bright yet aimless. It’s a colourful wonderland where teenagers ride hoverboards, hang out in gas station parking lots, and find aliens on the beach. It’s Christmas, but you’d barely know it – palm trees wrapped in lights, fake snowmen on store rooftops, and a sixteen-year-old dropout named Billy 5000 (Jack Corbett) trying to scrape together $5,000. Why? He may not be entirely sure, either. But in the age of hustle culture and late-stage capitalism, it’s the only way he knows he’s moving forward, getting his future all planned out.
Billy 5000 is a fascinating character study: a teen confused by the world and his place in it, pulled in too many directions to find clarity. He’s just old enough to feel the pressure of adulthood, but too young to realize that maybe the race doesn’t have to start just yet. After dropping out of high school and moving into his sister’s garage, Billy’s hustle becomes all-consuming. His friends see it too: he’s different now, obsessed with “cash money” and rarely present, even when they’re chilling at the beach together. There’s something tragic in that urgency – a fear that if he doesn’t make something happen right now, it’ll all be over before it even started.
The plot kicks into gear when Billy, on a food delivery run, becomes the unwitting caretaker of Donut, a giggling alien creature shaped like, well, a donut. Is it a metaphor for innocence? Friendship? Honestly, it’s unclear. But the film isn’t especially concerned with answering those questions. “Boys Go to Jupiter” seems to be more interested in vibes than structure, and in that regard, it truly excels.
The techno score contributes to a retro-’90s feel, evoking early Nintendo games, such as “Paper Boy.” And musically, the film soars. Corbett sings five original songs that capture the essence of teen confusion, especially with lyrics like, “Where am I going? I just turned sixteen,” and “Why do I always feel so heavy?” These capture the anxiety as adulthood closes in. Miya Folick’s shimmering track, “Winter Citrus,” is a semi-Christmas standout that would feel right at home on a dream-pop holiday playlist.
The film’s animation style also echoes a kind of nostalgia. It’s flat, hyper-saturated, and wonderfully strange, less Pixar, more indie video game. The production design is bursting with creativity: a hot dog stand topped with a 20-foot hot dog, a surreal orange grove, and musical numbers that channel the golden age of MTV music videos. Despite its lo-fi visuals, the film radiates style and imagination. It feels less like a budgetary limitation and more like an aesthetic intention, and it works. Much like “The Florida Project,” the film’s use of colour – bubble gum blues and pinks and zesty orange – is incredibly bright, the purest versions of themselves they could be. It evokes that same sense of youth and playfulness as Sean Baker’s film, despite Billy wanting to get away from that as quickly as possible.
Like “The Florida Project,” “Boys Go to Jupiter“ explores youth on the margins of paradise. Both films take place in sun-drenched Florida suburbs where childhood is both magical and precarious, and both feature young protagonists living in the shadow of adult systems they don’t fully understand. Baker’s film has realism, and Glander’s has absurdist animation, but the heartache is the same. Billy and Moonee are spiritual cousins: wide-eyed, resourceful, and on the cusp of losing their innocence.
But while “The Florida Project“ grounded its heartbreak in a tight, focused narrative, “Boys Go to Jupiter“ stumbles in its storytelling. The pacing is languid, and even the eye-popping visuals can’t always hold attention. The world is rich with colour and concept, but there’s a narrative looseness that makes the film feel more like a dreamy mixtape than a cohesive arc. We never really understand Billy’s family life; his relationship with his mother is never explored, and even his sister Gail (Eva Victor) seems to exist in the background. There’s a sense that the emotional stakes could have been more impactful with a bit more character development.
Still, there’s power in the portrayal of teenage burnout. Billy is worn down by the gig economy before he’s even technically entered it. When Rozebud (Miya Folick), his old classmate, whose mother, Dr. Dolphin (Janeane Garofalo), runs a juice factory, reappears in his life, she challenges his worldview: nihilistic, capitalistic, maybe even performative. He acts like he’s more mature than everyone around him. Billy talks about money like it’s salvation, but beneath that bravado is a scared kid with nowhere else to turn. The emotional climax arrives when he’s made an offer that the Billy at the beginning of the film would have been unable to refuse. But as you follow him while he makes his food deliveries, you see how, from the people he meets along the way, his course changes him, and what he thought he was looking for may not be what he really needs.
The film isn’t clear about what it all means, especially regarding the alien. Some will be frustrated by the ambiguity, while others will be charmed by it. But maybe the point is less about conclusions and more about feelings: the heavy ones, the nostalgic ones, the weird ones. The experience of being sixteen and stuck somewhere between childhood and capitalism.
In the end, “Boys Go to Jupiter“ may not fully stick the landing, but it’s a bold, vibrant, and unmistakably personal work of animated cinema. It won’t be for everyone, but like any great piece of outsider art, it doesn’t try to be. Glander has created something strange and resonant, a lo-fi lullaby for the anxious and overworked who just want to be a kid again.
