Creature features have a long, lucrative history in cinema, usually erring on the bloodier side of things. But Netflix’s Chupa takes a vampiric mythical beast and makes it the cutest little chirping koala-cat-griffin around, with a sprinkling of Spielberg on top.
Director Jonás Cuarón hinges his family-friendly fantasy film around the terrifying Latin-American legend of the chupacabra — the literal translation for the Spanish word “chupacabra” is “goat sucker.” But instead of a horror film in which many a caprine soul is vanquished, Chupa is a sweet, thoughtful adventure about family, celebrating heritage, and flipping the bird to bad guys who’d pursue magical creatures for money.
What is Chupa about?
Set in 1996, Chupa centers around Alex (Evan Whitten), a 13-year-old kid from Kansas City who finds himself embroiled in a wild adventure while visiting family in Mexico. Alex stumbles upon a strangely adorable (and thankfully not too bloodthirsty) winged creature hiding in the barn of his abuelo Chava, a delightfully melodramatic former luchador played by Demián Bichir. The young chupacabra is all alone, afraid and separated from its family.
Alex and his cousins Memo (Nickolas Verdugo) and Luna (Ashley Ciarra) must keep Chupa safe from a conniving scientist who’s working for some ambiguously no-good investors. As Richard Quinn, Christian Slater is middlingly evil, with some serious Alan Grant vibes; he’s curious about Chupa as a scientist, but his employers have much more nefarious reasons for snagging the little critter.
Chupa takes a vampiric mythical beast and makes it adorable.
Of course, the real star of the show is Chupa itself. Cuarón and the visual effects team have created a very cute interpretation of the legendary being, rumors of which made an impression on the director as a child. “The chupacabras [were] first seen in the early ’90s in Puerto Rico. After this, there were sightings of the creature all over Latin America… It was believed this creature fed on the blood of goats,” Cuarón told Netflix’s Tudum.
Instead of a hairless, blood-sucking monster, Chupa is a furry, chirping, chittering, cooing cub that’s like a cat-meets-koala-meets-griffin, pouncing all over the joint before letting out deep, mournful howls for its mum.
Credit: Netflix
Surprisingly for a creature feature, the film reveals the teeny tiny chupacabra almost immediately, with the first glimpse of the little feathered friend quivering and whimpering under the flashlights of the evil scientists. The film’s opening scenes, in which the chupacabras are pursued by the bad guys, are reminiscent of monster movie expeditions like The Mummy, or the Sea Whip sequence in Shadow and Bone Season 2 — a group of bumbling intruders disturb a wild animal’s lair intending to dominate or kill it. Right at the top, Chupa reminds us humans would inevitably treat magical creatures like absolute shite.
Slater is fittingly PG evil as the antagonist. Chupa keeps it pretty vague as to who these bad guys are, exactly — just impatient investors wanting their valuable beastie caught and delivered. Slater leans into the whole moustache-twisting villain of it all as Quinn but keeps it clean for younger viewers. “Son of a…” is as curse-filled as this script gets.
Chupa delves into the power of family and embracing your heritage
One of the core themes running through Chupa is the disconnect between Alex’s life and identity in America and his family heritage in Mexico. Cuarón establishes early in the film that Alex is being bullied at school and made to feel shame for his Mexican heritage in Kansas City, suffering racist taunts and harassment over things as everyday as his lunch. Alex brings this frustration home, taking his anger out on his mother and resenting the trip to San Javier, declaring, “I don’t care about Mexico, OK? I don’t care about the music. I don’t care about the food.”
Alex’s renouncing of his Mexican heritage is steeped in social shame, as he laments, “No one speaks Spanish in Kansas City.” He reactively plunges into seemingly all-American interests like Goosebumps, Beavis and Butthead, McDonalds, Jurassic Park, Ninja Turtles, Looney Tunes, and video games — only to realise his young cousins in Mexico like the same things too. Luna chastises Alex when he’s surprised she’s obsessed with the Beastie Boys: “What? You think Mexicans only listen to mariachi?”
Throughout Chupa, Alex’s trip to San Javier sees him slowly appreciating, then celebrating his Mexican heritage — including his abuelo Chava’s fame as a famed lucha libre wresting legend. When Alex lands, Chava instantly speaks to him in Spanish and is disappointed to find his grandson doesn’t speak it, despite his father’s teaching attempts.
“He tried, I just didn’t see the point,” Alex says.
“What?” responds Chava. “That’s your heritage, something to be proud of.”
Credit: Tony Rivetti Jr./Netflix
Chupa includes more than a few nods to Spielberg.
Chupa is undeniably drenched in what Mashable’s Caitlin Welsh describes as “Amblincore” and the cinematic hallmarks of Steven Spielberg; if you’re not thinking about E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial while you’re watching this, then you might want to revisit the director’s 1982 classic. Alex’s connection with Chupa in the barn, learning to sing and howl together, shares undeniable parallels with Elliott (Henry Thomas) and E.T., and Memo teaching the baby chupacabra to fly feels akin to Gertie (Drew Barrymore) teaching E.T. how to talk.
Director Cuarón acknowledges Spielberg’s influence on Chupra, too. “I’ve always been a huge fan of E.T. and believe that stories like that are so powerful because they play on the idea of kids being misunderstood by adults,” Cuarón told Netflix’s Tudum. “Chupa might be a monster but he’s the only one that truly understands what Alex is going through. The bond between a boy and a creature is so pure, like with a pet, it transcends language.”
Credit: Netflix
Cuarón directly references the Hollywood director’s work through props: Alex’s room is stacked with action figures and posters from Jurassic Park, as well as a plush mogwai from Gremlins. Moments of Carlos Rafael Rivera’s whimsical score sound almost identical to “Across the Stars,” Anakin and Padme’s theme from Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones by John Williams, Spielberg’s longtime favourite composer. Plus, thanks to director of photography Nico Aguilar, Chupa is filled with both windshield shots and moments showing the cast in realisation, awe, or wonder, all of which could be considered nods to “The Spielberg Face”:
As the evil scientist, Slater gets multiple little Spielberg moments: When pursuing the mama chupacabra and her pup in the film’s opening, he picks up a claw in a moment that reeks of Dr. Alan Grant’s (Sam Neill) velociraptor monologue in Jurassic Park. Later, when the clients helicopter in to check in on their investment, throwing Quinn’s paperwork everywhere, it feels like a direct nod to John Hammond’s (Richard Attenborough) dust-conjuring entry into the dig site.
Credit: Netflix
One of Spielberg’s signatures is also themes around absent fatherhood and loss (see: E.T., Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Hook), and you’d better believe Chupa ticks that one off. Alex is mourning the loss of his father, which fuels his character’s arc through the story to find support through his family.
Is Chupa worth watching?
Chupa is a very cute fantasy adventure and Spielberg-like creature feature that touches upon deeper themes of grief, heritage, and family. While it doesn’t reinvent the genre, the film keeps it simple and effective, letting its cast create genuine connection with a CGI mythical beastie. Come for the sweet goat-sucker, stay for the genuinely heart-warming family moments.
