Live-Action ‘Lilo & Stitch’ Is a Reminder That Even the ‘Best’ Adoption Situations Still Have Grief and Loss

For many, this story feels heartwarming. But for adoptees, especially those of us who were separated from siblings or placed outside our extended communities, the praise can sting. I’m one of seven siblings, but I was the only one completely separated from our biological family when my birth mother placed me for adoption in 1993. So watching the new live-action Lilo & Stitch praised as a “positive” adoption story wasn’t just disappointing for me—it was painful.

The premise of the original animated Lilo & Stitch movie was built on the foundation and power of family AKA ohana in Hawaiian. Hawaiian culture also has a tradition called hanai, which is an informal adoption of grandparents, cousins, or even non-biological relatives like a neighbor.

Hanai tradition vs. U.S. adoption practices

The Hawaiian hanai tradition stands in stark contrast to how adoption is often understood in the U.S., especially by white Americans, where adoption is typically framed as a solution to a parent’s failure to provide. Often, the state or adoptive parents legally sever ties with the biological family. Even in cases of open adoption, contact is rarely legally enforceable—and many open adoptions close within the first few years. That reality runs directly counter to the spirit of hanai and the deep, communal bonds it’s meant to preserve.

That’s what made the original animated Lilo & Stitch so powerful—Nani wasn’t just a sister to Lilo; she embodied the role of caregiver, protector, and family. She was struggling but never stopped fighting to support Lilo and keep her with her. The film honored the spirits of ohana and hanai by showing that family isn’t defined by perfection or paperwork, but love, responsibility, and deep cultural ties. 

While many complaints of the film have flown under the radar, user @_wehiii, a Kanaka Maoli, wrote a meaningful critique on Threads: “Do yourself a favor and look into my people and land’s history. I think you’ll get why we’re not happy with the way the remake was written in comparison to the original Lilo & Stitch.” Another critical review of the live-action Lilo & Stitch by Robert Pitman stated: “I think that the 2025 remake fundamentally misunderstood the themes and emotions of the original movie.”

Problems with the live-action Lilo & Stitch 

Now, many of us aren’t against reimagining beloved stories—but when those stories carry deep messages about family and survival, it matters how we tell them, and who gets to frame the narrative. In the new movie, the heart of hanai is missing. We hear Lilo tell Nani she likes her less as a mom and more as a sister, reinforcing the typical western ideals of what a family “should” be (one that our current administration’s “pro-family” stance promotes as a married heterosexual couple with children.) Here are some other critiques of the movie.

Framing the foster system as the best option

Before Tutu stepped in as the extension of hanai as their neighbor and David’s grandmother, handing Lilo over to the system is framed as the best option. Not only for Lilo, but for Nani to be able to pursue her dreams with a full-ride scholarship to a school on the mainland. 

This remake undermines the original film’s powerful message that with the support of the community, Nani could raise Lilo, even against the odds. As someone who grew up separated from my siblings, I carry the weight of all the moments we never got to share. The childhood bonds I lost aren’t just memories I missed, they’re a part of me that was taken. So seeing Nani—even with access to a magical portal—forced to sneak in bedtime visits shattered me. For me, that quiet hiding wasn’t heartwarming, it was a reminder of how systems that claim to protect children often end up erasing the very relationships that matter most. 

Failing to acknowledge a system failing families in need

We need to remember the movie isn’t just a fictional rewrite. It echoes the very real failures of the child welfare system, which continues to separate Native Hawaiians and marginalized families at disproportionate rates, often without offering meaningful support or pathways to reunification. The story may be fictional, but it mirrors reality: a family forced to choose between medical debt and staying together. In this version, the only “solution” presented is surrendering Lilo to the system so Nani can avoid financial ruin. A heartbreaking reflection of how poverty—not neglect—so often drives family separation.

Neglect, not abuse, is the primary reason most families are separated. And when we live in a country that doesn’t supply families with affordable childcare, housing, and universal medical care, the system will swoop in and provide a new family with stipends and resources to care for the child. Many Hawaiian families are struggling with higher poverty rates as well as the legacy of colonization that has impacted how Indigenous people and People of Color are treated. The past has shaped how parents respond to the continued stress of providing within a flawed system, resulting in cases of neglect, like Nani.

Using western family ideals

We see how much Nani loved Lilo, but she clearly couldn’t afford consistent childcare, reliable transportation, or even a stocked fridge. These are all basic, critical parts of raising a child—yet she’s expected to navigate it alone. It’s a reflection of how western, individualistic ideals shaped the director’s reimagining of the story. In an interview with Deadline, Dean Fleischer Camp stated, “Nani, who I always felt was a little too rose-colored glasses for somebody in her situation, was so smart and has had to abandon a lot of these dreams or defer them because she had to take care of her little sister and inherited all this responsibility at such a young age. It just felt like she might not have such an easy time buying into, ‘Nobody gets left behind’ because she certainly would feel like, well, I’m struggling here.”

Not acknowledging what could happen after

The reality is that within 12 months, the foster care system will push for a permanent placement for Lilo—an adoption. So, we can imagine Tutu would be given the typical option in these situations, the option to adopt Lilo. The worst part, as a child welfare advocate, is knowing that even if she advocates for her to stay and wait for Nani to graduate and get a stable job, the system will most likely remove her and place her in a different family who is willing. Further separating the sisters with no guarantee that Nani will be allowed into Lilo’s life.

Seeing my own story in the live-action Lilo & Stitch

As an Indigenous person who was separated from my siblings because of this exact mindset—that struggle means unfitness to parent—I felt this story deeply. My birth family didn’t lack love, they lacked support. And, like Nani, they were navigating impossible decisions under pressure from systems that don’t make space for community care. Even when the social worker tried to help Nani come up with a plan for stability in the live-action Lilo & Stitch, she was given unreasonable deadlines that were changed at a whim.

This is what the remake misses entirely in their “perfect” depiction of adoption. It treats letting go as the ultimate act of love—when for those of us who lived through it, separation wasn’t loving, it was a loss we’re still grieving. I didn’t reconnect with my siblings until adulthood. The years we lost can’t be returned. And while we’re working to rebuild something now, it’s layered with grief for everything we missed. Watching Nani hide bedtime visits through a portal wasn’t just a plot choice, it was a mirror. A reminder that the world still too often values dreams and degrees over family and roots, especially when that family isn’t white, wealthy, or “traditional.”

Final thoughts for families seeing the live-action Lilo & Stitch

We need to look past the surface level of the efforts made by the directors to tell Nani and Lilo’s story. They depicted the child welfare system working, which was them viewing the system through rose-colored glasses. Leaving us with a movie ending that we are supposed to celebrate, despite the fact that Nani and Lilo’s relationship will forever be subjected to further obstacles.

It’s frankly a tragedy that director Camp positioned Nani not having the burden of Lilo as a positive. Instead of leaning on the beauty of hanai—with a little Disney magic—of having the support of family, neighbors, and aliens to raise Lilo, as in the original animated movie. We deserve stories that don’t just romanticize adoption or sacrifice, but tell the truth about what’s lost along the way. Stories that reflect the strength of families like mine: imperfect, fractured, and still fighting to stay connected. Because ohana doesn’t mean walking away. It means holding on, even when everything else tells you to let go.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Melissa Guida-Richards, Contributing Writer

Melissa is an author, adoptee, and mom of two boys. She has authored two books, Bedtime, The Ultimate Battle and What White Parents Should Know About Transracial Adoption, and runs a podcast, Adoptee Thoughts, in her spare time.

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