By Nicole Veneto

It’s up to us to champion films like Boys Go to Jupiter, which push the medium into exciting new territory when AI slop is literally banging at the door.

Boys Go to Jupiter, directed by Julian Glander. Screening at the Somerville Theatre, September 5 through 7.

Billy 5000 and Donut take a break from the hustle in Boys Go to Jupiter. Photo: Cartuna

Believe it or not, there once was a time when CG animation was considered cutting-edge. If you’re old enough to remember watching Toy Story or any of the early Pixar films on VHS, then you have a certain nostalgia for the plasticky shapes and textures that made that era of CG the realm of the unreal, something that could only exist in the computer as a (literal) new dimension. For a while, CG animation was better suited for inanimate objects and nonhuman lifeforms than capturing the likeness of people. That proximity to the uncanny valley was an implicit reminder of the technical limitations of the medium. The computer could only do so much as a tool — human technique and creativity made up the rest.

But sometime within the last 30 years, CG animation didn’t just lose its edge, it became visually sterile and indistinct. There’s a kind of industrialized sameness to today’s CG animation, where even a commercial for GrubHub (you know the one) looks like Disney’s deeply uninspired recent output. In the rare instance a film injects some new blood into the medium, everything that comes after is just blatant trend chasing. Even Into the Spider-Verse’s lauded hybridization of 2D animation techniques has since been institutionalized as a house style. Like so much art nowadays, the human element has dissipated; everything is algorithmically generated and/or committee approved content. It’s all Cocomelon now.

Enter Julian Glander’s offbeat treat Boys Go to Jupiter, an independently made animated feature where the same market-driven, bottom-line thinking partly to blame for CG animation’s degeneration is played for Floridian absurdity in a coming-of-age tale about a teenage delivery boy befriending an alien life form. Rendered entirely in the free, open-source software Blender, Boys Go to Jupiter has the advantage of looking like absolutely nothing else currently on offer; it resembles something closer to claymation or an experimental tech-demo from CG’s early days. The fact that it’s also a musical about the futility of the hustle-and-grind gig economy makes it one of the most unique animated offerings of the year.

In a Florida beach town, high school drop-out Billy 5000 (Jack Corbett) takes on as many Grubster deliveries as possible to amass the $5,000 he needs to move out of his sister Gail’s (Sorry, Baby’s Eva Victor) garage before the new year. While his slacker buddies Freckles (Grace Kuhlenschmidt), Beatbox (Elsie Fisher, Eighth Grade), and adorable little Peanut (J. R. Phillips) are content to spend their winter break loitering in parking lots, freestyle rapping, and getting trapped in porta-potties, Billy is firmly locked into the grindset, zipping from location to location on his hoverboard collecting tips and exchanging small-talk with customers. Some are kind, like Joe Pera’s elderly golf course owner and his weekly BLT, or an elderly chicken farmer who mistakes golf balls for eggs. Others less so, like a recluse who’ll tip Billy $20 if he pre-chews his hot dog for him. (Which he does.)

Porta-potty antics in Boys Go to Jupiter. Photo: Cartuna

One such delivery to the Dolphin Groves Juice Company reunites Billy with his unrequited high school crush/fruit CEO heir apparent Rozebud (Miya Folick), who believes she can destroy her mother Dr. Dolphin’s (Janeane Garofalo) business from the inside by doing absolutely no work whatsoever. While there, Billy pilfers one of Dr. Dolphin’s experimental lemons. It’s another potential money-maker, in addition to exploiting a loophole in the Grubster app that gives him $7 for every $1 in tips he earns. Unbeknownst to Billy, an adorable baby alien named Donut stows away in his bag and takes up residence in his fridge. Dr. Dolphin’s willing to overlook the theft — if Billy returns both the lemon and a priceless potential research subject in exchange for $5,000. The offer is certainly tempting, especially after Grubster finally catches onto Billy’s exchange rate scheme and depletes his account. Faced with turning in a new friend for the cash he needs, Billy must weigh his actual values against the ever elusive promise of financial security.

Glander’s debut arrives during a stagnant period in big-budget CG animation (Pixar’s flopping so hard lately that Sony got one over by appealing to something equally factory-made: K-pop.) It provides a vision of what could be, if studios were willing to put artistry before franchise potential. An entirely self-taught artist thanks to YouTube tutorials and forums, Glander’s DIY approach is embodied by the film’s surrealistic rendition of the Sunshine State, reimagining Florida’s suburbs as a Playmobil dreamscape dotted with gummy palm trees, giant hot dog stands, and foreboding billboards. Characters resemble toys dumped out on a preschooler’s play mat: some are lanky and noodly, like Betty Spaghetty dolls, while others look more like avant garde sculptures than people. Glander’s eclectic character designs make for some great visual gags too, such as Sarah Sherman’s Minivan Mom, who’s just a giant face bellowing in the driver’s seat window.

Beyond its refreshing visual whimsy, Boys Go to Jupiter offers salient commentary on the constant degradation in late-stage capitalism. The gig economy is just the latest development in a rigged system designed to benefit those up top: substantial profits go to the corporation, while the people who do the actual work — dashing our precious treats to us — scrape by on tips with no benefits whatsoever. (Note to readers: tip generously next time you DoorDash pad thai at 11 p.m.) Billy has bought into the promise that he’s his own boss — not a cog in a deeply exploitative machine. He’s not a “pizza boy,” but part of a “flexible delivery partnership.” Time is money, and every second not spent hustling for moolah is wasted on unproductive activities like showering or spending time with friends and family. Billy eventually realizes just how absurd the grindset “lifestyle”  is — after some extra-terrestrial intervention and dealing with Grubster’s automated service line.

Despite the immediacy of its social commentary, however, Boys Go to Jupiter is as laid back and languidly paced as an August beach day. Unlike Billy’s constant need to make every moment financially productive, Glander sees no need to rush through a conventional narrative. Lest we forget this is also a musical, the nine lo-fi bedroom pop numbers interspersed throughout the film are part and parcel of the film’s chill factor, designed for easy listening on a vinyl record rather than for your three-year-old niece to belt into a toy microphone. That’s yet another stark contrast that sets Boys Go to Jupiter apart from today’s increasingly risk-averse animation landscape. The assertion that “animation is cinema,” championed by so many on social media, has a tendency to obfuscate the fact that mainstream American animation has more in common with the Marvel approach to industrialized filmmaking (arguably entirely CG films themselves) than it does with Bakshi’s or Plimpton’s oeuvres. It’s up to us to champion films like Boys Go to Jupiter, which push the medium into exciting new territory when AI slop is literally banging at the door.

Nicole Veneto graduated from Brandeis University with an MA in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, concentrating on feminist media studies. Her writing has been featured in MAI Feminism & Visual Culture, Film Matters Magazine, and Boston University’s Hoochie Reader. She’s the co-host of the podcast Marvelous! Or, the Death of Cinema. You can follow her on Letterboxd and her podcast on Twitter @MarvelousDeath.