Some stories never end. They just circle back, reshaped by time, memory, and corporate mandates.
In 2002, Lilo & Stitch was a quiet marvel—a Hawaiian tale about alien chaos and human tenderness, oddball enough to slip past the formula machine and honest enough to stick. That Disney would eventually churn it through the live-action grinder was inevitable. That it would cross a billion dollars worldwide in 2025? That, I didn't see coming. But then again, neither did they.
Now we have a sequel in the works—and here's the twist: Chris Sanders, the co-creator and original voice of Stitch, is reportedly in final talks to return as screenwriter. According to The Hollywood Reporter, he's not directing (he's busy with The Wild Robot 2), but make no mistake—this is the biggest creative news attached to Lilo & Stitch 2, and possibly the only one that actually matters.
Because let's be honest: the first live-action outing wasn't exactly a triumph of soul. It was efficient. Polished. Expensive. But it missed the thing that made the animated version linger—the awkward, aching tenderness between a girl and her alien, the kind of story you can't storyboard with algorithmic precision. It had none of Sanders' bite, none of his odd rhythms or emotional messiness.
So now that he's back in the writing room, what does that actually mean?
Well, for one, it signals a rare course correction. Sanders was nowhere near the credited writing team on the remake—Chris Kekaniokalani Bright and Chris Van Waes had that task—and they won't be back for the sequel either. Their absence isn't necessarily a condemnation, but it is a statement. Their version gave us a sanded-down Jumba, a missing Gantu, and the strange choice of turning Nani into something vaguely resembling an absentee guardian. Safe to say, a lot of longtime fans weren't impressed.
And yet, Disney isn't throwing the whole thing out. The same cast, tone, and aesthetic will likely carry over. What Sanders brings is calibration. A voice that understands the DNA of Lilo & Stitch because he helped design it. If Disney has any hope of turning this franchise into something more than another CG-laden cash grab, it starts here—with a writer who remembers what made Experiment 626 more than a toy.
There's still no release date for the sequel, no confirmed director either. (Lilo & Stitch hit PVOD this week and will be released physically on August 26th.) But you can already hear the chatter echoing through San Diego Comic-Con, where Disney adults and cosplayers alike are dissecting the implications. Is this the return of real Ohana? Or just a Band-Aid on a billion-dollar brand?
Let's not get sentimental. Sanders isn't a miracle worker. Studios today don't give you room to be strange—they give you deadlines. What's more likely is that he drafts the spine of the story, lends it some of that peculiar flavor we saw in the original, and then hands it off to new scribes who may or may not understand why a blue alien's hiccup means more than a hundred explosions.
But it's a start. A real one. Not because it's nostalgic, but because it suggests Disney—just maybe—knows the difference between a franchise and a family.
And if they don't? Well… Stitch always did look better with a little chaos.
