PLOT: In Metropia, a gigantic city in an alternate future, private eye Raymond Gunn is drawn into a case involving an alien murder and a multimedia star named Venus Nova.
REVIEW: Without question, 2026 has been one of the most exciting years for animation in recent memory. Alongside crowd-pleasers like GOAT, The Super Mario Galaxy Movie, and Minions & Monsters, we’ve witnessed underrepresented cultures shine with movies like I Am Frankelda and Forgotten Island, and at least two films, In Waves and Wildwood, are genuine masterpieces. That all happened before Ray Gunn hit the scene, with Brad Bird’s latest scoring another win for mature-rated animation in a medium that demands big swings and bigger imagination.
Coming on strong like the brooding trip-hop saunter of a Portishead track, Ray Gunn is a love letter to the noir genre written in looping cursive, and the paper smells like whiskey and honeyed perfume. Bird’s film, a thirty-year endeavor, wears its influences on its trench-coated sleeve, with movies like Blade Runner, The Fifth Element, The Maltese Falcon, and Metropolis coursing through its veins. Metropia, where Ray’s story takes place, is alive with intrigue, danger, and societal imbalance. It’s the perfect setting for a retro-futuristic murder mystery that feels like a gripping radio drama brought to vibrant life with neon-drenched color and laser particles.
At the center of the mystery are Ray (Sam Rockwell) and Eye-Ra (Tom Waits), a dynamic private detective duo one repossession away from kissing their operation goodbye, before a seemingly easy job of tailing a troublesome pop singer named Venus Nova lands them in even hotter water. The dynamic between Ray and Eye-Ra is one of my favorite aspects of the film. Their mutual respect, playful banter, and integrity, even while involved in shady business, make them more than a pair just trying to get by; they’re also trying to do the right thing. Rooting for them is easy; being charmed by them is like getting served a complimentary glass of the good stuff from an alluring stranger across the bar.
While Rockwell plays Gunn with effortless swagger and earnestness, Waits steals the show as Eye-Ra, his weathered, rusted-iron vocals giving the affable alien a low-end rasp that’s like getting the best shut-eye of your life atop a bed of gravel. Meanwhile, Scarlett Johansson gives Venus Nova a smoky and mysterious cadence as she rips through the film like a tornado with strappy heels. She’s hard, but delicate. In your face, but desperately wanting to hide, to become someone else. Johansson brings ferocity to Venus Nova, but there’s a sadness there, too, giving the character and her performance depth and nuance.
Beyond the film’s visual spectacle is a layered story that spins several narrative plates. It’s a murder mystery noir first, but it also strikes me as a direct commentary on the increasing threat of artificial intelligence, xenophobia, and corporations that bleed their artists dry. While this story does a fantastic job of framing all three, I wanted more direct commentary about the societal divide between aliens and humankind. The opportunity to say something powerful about the walls that divide us feels like it’s right there, but the arm never fully extends to pick the fruit off the tree.
Still, where Ray Gunn truly shines beyond its 1930s and 40s Streamline Moderne splendor, immaculate Film Noir vibes, and sweeping science-fiction cityscape is in its commentary on how corporations abuse their artists. Rather than investing in her as a person, Venus Nova’s reps treat the Lady Gaga-like tour de force like a commodity, a product to be bought, taken advantage of, and sold when her spotlight starts to dim. Meanwhile, she’s a songbird in a cage, desperately beating her wings against incarceration, wanting to sing a different tune. In a way, Ray Gunn is Venus’ story, and it’s through her that I found the film to burn brightest.
Regarding Bird—damn, it feels good to have him back in the spotlight. When you’re watching the movie, pay close attention to how Eye-Ra moves, from the way he spider-crawls alongside buildings to leaning in the passenger seat of a vintage cruiser. The way Bird’s camera follows Eye-Ra around is nothing short of hypnotic, serving as a reminder of why he’s one of the best in the business.
Composer Michael Giacchino, reteaming with Bird on Ray Gunn, delivers another stellar score full of pulpy big-band jazz, rousing chase music, and seductive snare and brass work that turns up the heat on an already atmospheric soundscape. Some duos are destined to make magic together, and it’s obvious that Bird and Giacchino have developed a love language of their own throughout the decades.
In a year of genuine animated bangers, Ray Gunn is another triumph of patience, creativity, and care, leading to another great film. It’s a glittering reminder that animation isn’t just for talking animals, questionable sequels, or checking every parent-approved box off a list. Animation is for everyone, and Ray Gunn walks a delicate line through action, intrigue, and society’s shortcomings to create something special while paying homage to a bygone genre. It’s a smooth, cinematic experience, punctuated by the clinking of ice-cold rocks while a femme fatale stares at you with diamond eyes from the shadows of a dimly lit private booth. Have a seat. Be careful. Try not to die.
I’m giving Ray Gunn a rock-solid eight out of ten. It’s a refreshing animated Film Noir that excels in style, character, and world-building. I can’t wait to watch it again, as it’s another gem in 2026’s ornate crown of outstanding animated achievements.
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