Did you grow up with a family movie? That is, a movie you watched again and again as a child, the one choice that all of your siblings would readily agree on, and the one you can extensively quote even now. If you’re a millennial, you likely bought the VHS or accidentally absconded with it from the local video store.
There are very few qualifications for the family movie: some camp, a little emotional resonance, easy viewing, a nice message, and — this is imperative — absolutely no sex scenes. I grew up with a few. While sharing all of our Holland family movies feels like leaking a state secret, I’ll give you one title: seminal early 2000s box-office success “Freaky Friday,” starring Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis.
Frankly, whether “Freakier Friday” is any good by a movie critic’s yardstick is entirely irrelevant.
On Friday, the much-anticipated sequel to “Freaky Friday,” called “Freakier Friday,” debuts in theaters across the country. (And yes, it is much anticipated by me, my siblings and my millennial cohort.) Lohan’s comedic timing, her magnetic chemistry with Curtis and the fact that everyone from the original cast has returned have all garnered buzz.
But frankly, whether “Freakier Friday” is any good by a movie critic’s yardstick is entirely irrelevant. Those who are going to buy a ticket or stream the film are most likely doing so purely based on the power of nostalgic reverence. And that is OK.
For those somehow unfamiliar, the 2003 “Freaky Friday” centers on successful single mother and therapist Tess Coleman, played by Curtis, and her rebellious rock-‘n’-roll-aspiring teenage daughter Anna, played by Lohan. From band practice to Tess’ new fiancé, the two are not understanding one another. After they receive mysterious fortune cookies from a Chinese food restaurant, Anna and Tess wake up the next day to discover they have switched bodies. Then comes an iconic shopping montage, Chad Michael Murray’s Ducati and a vengeful English teacher.
“Freakier Friday” picks up more than two decades later. Anna, alongside very involved Grandmother Tess, is squaring off with an angry teen daughter of her own named Harper. When Anna falls in love with the father of Harper’s nemesis at school, named Lily, it is now three generations that are not seeing eye to eye. This time it is a palm reader that initiates the body swap. And the rest, as they say, is history.
While both movies explore the intergenerational push-pull between parent and child and the emotionally complex realities of family, the message behind the body-swapping hijinks is one of empathy. These movies are heartwarming interpretations of the “walk a mile in their shoes” adage.
It’s very easy to condemn Hollywood’s recent preoccupation with remakes, full franchise reboots and sequels. Relying upon viewer loyalty or, at the very least, brand recognition is a risk-averse and, frankly, lazy way to get a movie made. It also makes an already competitive and shrinking industry even smaller for up-and-coming filmmakers with original ideas. Sometimes, it is ineffectual. Increasingly, the reboot or the sequel fails to carry its audience for another year and another movie and another similar plot. There is fatigue and there is frustration.
Then there is the nostalgia component. Even outside of the silver screen, nostalgia has permeated so much of 2025 culture. It is easy to understand why: We’re wrestling with a deeply fractured American identity, plagued by the remnants of cancel culture and a seemingly universal anxiety. Gen Z is vocal in their longing for the perceived simplicity, stability and comfort of the early 2000s that they never experienced. Millennials, battered by the remnants of hustle culture, embrace nostalgic media as an escape and as a comfort.
“Freakier Friday,” I would argue, exists in the gray because the franchise was rooted in nostalgia from the start. My beloved 2003 “Freaky Friday” is, in fact, the fifth movie adaptation of a 1972 novel of the same name written by Mary Rodgers. The first was a 1976 Golden Globe-nominated version starring Jodie Foster and Barbara Harris. In this way, the “Freaky Friday” franchise does not just exist in early 2000s internet-rooted nostalgia — rather, it’s something shared between five decades and multiple generations.
Moving my own childhood connection to the franchise aside, there is a palpable difference between a sequel that is conceived out of love and appreciation for a loyal audience and one that is a cheap cash grab. I am not so naïvely suggesting that “Freakier Friday” was, you know, made for charity, but what I am pointing to is its deft understanding of why viewers loved the first one so much. This sequel honors the original cast — the humor, the tone and the storyline — while still managing to feel fresh and relevant. In this way, “Freakier Friday” feels like genuine continuation, not exploitation.
“Freakier Friday” may not be pushing cinematic boundaries or mending our broken retrospective culture. But I know this much: It makes for a really great family movie.
