Like its mischievous demigod protagonist, the Chinese animated fantasy film Ne Zha II has been a practically unstoppable force. Since its initial release in China, over Lunar New Year, the blockbuster has earned more than $2 billion worldwide. It’s now the highest-grossing film of 2025, the highest-grossing animated film of all time, and the highest-grossing non-English-language film in history.
The film has also been a magnet for conspiratorial chatter, with viewers and critics alike theorizing about the reasons for its box-office success. The film’s feverish run has been referred to by some English-language outlets as evidence of “national pride” in China; when it trounced Captain America: Brave New World in February, Reuters cited Ne Zha II’s victory as proof of China’s “hostility toward rival Hollywood offerings.” Yet as Slate’s Jenny Zhang noted, Chinese audiences—who are responsible for most of the film’s ticket sales so far—haven’t been uniformly supportive of the movie, leaving “verdicts ranging from negative to lukewarm to positive.” Some viewers, she observed, believe that the film’s imagery indeed contains hints of anti-American sentiment; others interpret its hero’s quest for individuality as subtle but sharp criticism of the Chinese Communist Party. When an English-language version of Ne Zha II was announced for an August debut in the United States, via a rare partnership between the Chinese company CMC Pictures and the indie distributor A24, The Hollywood Reporter predicted that the the film’s theatrical release would be a “litmus test of the U.S. market’s appetite for Chinese storytelling.”
As it turns out, the results of that test were less than spectacular. Ne Zha II’s re-release, with a voice cast led by Michelle Yeoh, flopped at the U.S. box office last weekend, making just $1.5 million. But as Deadline pointed out, an English-subtitled version of the film had just been released stateside less than six months ago, not long after the Chinese debut. That release earned more than $20 million, which means that a not-insignificant number of Americans were willing to show up for the film in its original Chinese-language form.
Even if a wider U.S. audience appears to be unfamiliar with—or uninterested in—the franchise, Ne Zha II’s bona fides are inarguable. The film is an epic sequel to a massively popular movie: The first Ne Zha, released in 2019, is currently the second-highest-grossing non-U.S. animated film in history. The follow-up doubles down on its predecessor’s maximalism, producing a chaotic, overstuffed action-adventure comedy with eye-popping visuals that demand to be seen in a theater. As such, Ne Zha II leaves no mystery about why it has become the year’s biggest global-box-office triumph, regardless of whether U.S. theatergoers turned out for the English dub. The film’s victory has been big because the film itself is big—bulky in tone and spectacle. Ne Zha II may be loosely based on a 16th-century novel drawn from Chinese mythology, but it’s an amalgamation of recognizable styles and storytelling techniques designed to appeal to as many viewers as possible.
Consider Ne Zha himself. He’s a popular character from Chinese folklore to adapt on-screen, a constant presence in movies and shows produced in the country over the past century. His ubiquity is in part due to his visual appeal—he can conjure wheels of fire under his feet to zip around in the air, which is undeniably cool—and because his stories are especially malleable in tone. Although he’s usually portrayed as a rebel learning to discipline himself and obey filial values, the most well-known animated versions of him prior to the 2019 film depict him very differently: In 1979’s Nezha Conquers the Dragon King, he’s the tragic embodiment of self-sacrifice. In the 2003 TV series The Legend of Ne Zha, he’s a cheekier, more family-friendly protagonist.
Ne Zha II understands the character’s versatility and uses his story to explore a universal theme: coming-of-age growing pains. Sure, he recites Chinese poetry when announcing himself to enemies and navigates a world awash in Buddhist and Taoist symbolism, but he mostly just wreaks youthful havoc. The Ne Zha movies alter some of the character’s classic traits. Despite how much he enjoys causing chaos, Ne Zha yearns to fit in—a conflict exemplified by his central relationship with Ao Bing, a dutiful and compassionate dragon prince. The two seem to be polar opposites in personality and worldview, but become best friends whose dynamic can be as silly as it is affecting. In Ne Zha II, the duo have to share the same body, leading to crude gags (Ne Zha can allow Ao Bing to take over his body only after ingesting sleeping pills, which he sometimes vomits up), as well as heartfelt discussions about the burden of making their communities proud. Take away the magical, beyond-farcical setup, and what’s left is a timeless story.
The animation, too, captures this sense of familiarity. Chinese-produced animated entertainment, called donghua, has long struggled to establish an identity. The 1979 Ne Zha film, for instance, was released shortly after the end of the Cultural Revolution, during which the genre had been limited by rigid guidelines intended to establish a national style. The resulting movie relied on traditional illustration practices in the form of ink-wash art, layered brushwork, and rich colors. Over the years, donghua became shaped—if not overshadowed—by the look of anime and Hollywood animation; the Ne Zha in the 2003 series resembles a Disney character, defined by thick outlines and fluid movement.
But Ne Zha and its sequel giddily blend Chinese aesthetics with other influences: Painterly backgrounds are mixed with computer-generated, Pixar-like character designs. The emphasis on toilet humor calls to mind bawdy DreamWorks movies such as Shrek. One villain explicitly references Snow White. The extravagant approach mirrors the hero’s untamed energy, all to yield a genuinely spectacular film. Ne Zha II is vibrant and colorful in every frame, whether rendering fantastical locations (floating cities, an underwater empire), mythical creatures (jade birds, intelligent marmots), or battle sequences. The third act, which captures essentially one long showdown among deities of all kinds, is awash with kinetic action. Intricately designed dragons weave in and out of combat, while armies of evil henchmen arrange themselves in gorgeous patterns. At one point, they come to look like a giant tree festooned with golden blossoms.
There is, in other words, almost too much to look at in Ne Zha II—but that appears to be the point. The film’s director, Yu Yang (known as “Jiaozi”), recruited more than 4,000 animators for the project and incorporated the efforts of more than 100 animation studios across China. In an interview, he explained that he approached the movie as if it were his last—and indeed, Ne Zha II feels like a film to end all animated films. It overwhelms the senses, remixes styles, and turns a complicated folkloric figure into a lovable superhero. The film’s English dub may not have been a hit. But even without that achievement, Ne Zha II already won.
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