Okay, settle in and grab your favourite comfy blanket – maybe the one you hid under during the scary bits of Poltergeist. Tonight, we're rewinding the tape not quite all the way back, but to a time when the transition from VHS fuzz to the sharper edges of DVD was upon us. We're talking about the year 2000, and the flamboyant, fur-obsessed return of one of Disney’s most iconic villains in 102 Dalmatians. Does anyone else remember the slight jolt seeing that "102" instead of "101"? It felt like a promise of more – more spots, more chaos, and definitely more Cruella.
### Can a Devil Change Her Spots?
The film kicks off with a concept almost as outrageous as Cruella de Vil herself: rehabilitation. Thanks to some experimental therapy involving Pavlovian conditioning (and a whole lot of bell-ringing), Cruella emerges from prison seemingly cured of her fur fetish. She’s now "Ella," a dog-loving philanthropist who insists on being called such. And who embodies this (briefly) reformed terror? None other than the magnificent Glenn Close, returning to the role she inhabited with such delicious wickedness in the 1996 live-action hit 101 Dalmatians. Close remains the absolute glittering, snarling centrepiece of this sequel. Even as "Ella," there’s a manic energy simmering just beneath the surface, a glint in her eye that promises the inevitable, glorious relapse. It’s a testament to her performance that both the demure Ella and the unhinged Cruella feel equally, terrifyingly plausible within the same character.
### Pups, Parisians, and Preposterous Plots
Of course, Cruella’s reformation is about as durable as a cheap cassette tape left on a car dashboard in July. The chiming of Big Ben reverses her conditioning, and faster than you can say "puppy coat," she’s back to her old ways, scheming with even grander ambitions. This time, she needs 102 Dalmatian puppies to craft the hooded coat of her dreams, adding one extra pup for that crucial hood detail. Partnering with her is the equally flamboyant French furrier Jean-Pierre LePelt, played with gusto by the legendary Gérard Depardieu. Their scenes together are a delightful collision of egos and accents, a masterclass in scenery-chewing that perfectly fits the film's heightened reality.
Trying to thwart their dastardly plans are our new human heroes: Chloe Simon (Alice Evans), Cruella's perpetually suspicious probation officer who also happens to own the new generation of Dalmatian pups, and Kevin Shepherd (Ioan Gruffudd, pre-Fantastic Four fame), the well-meaning owner of a struggling animal shelter. They’re charming enough, providing the necessary romantic subplot and heroic counterpoint, but let's be honest – we're all here for Cruella and the dogs. Speaking of which, the standout pup this time is Oddball, Dipstick's daughter (remember Dipstick from the first film?), born entirely without spots. Her journey to embrace her uniqueness adds a sweet, if simple, layer to the puppy-centric chaos. And who could forget Waddlesworth, the macaw who thinks he's a Rottweiler, voiced with perfect comedic timing by Eric Idle of Monty Python fame?
### Behind the Glamour and the Growls
Directed by Kevin Lima, who had just helmed Disney's animated hit Tarzan (1999) and would later give us Enchanted (2007), 102 Dalmatians certainly looks the part. The production design is lush, moving the action partly to Paris, adding a certain je ne sais quoi to Cruella's couture-fueled crime spree. And the costumes! Oh, the costumes. Designed once again by the brilliant Anthony Powell (who won an Oscar for the 1996 film), Cruella's outfits are even more extravagant, more architectural, more utterly Cruella. Powell deservedly nabbed another Oscar nomination for his work here; each ensemble is a statement piece dripping with menace and high fashion. One particularly memorable creation involved black and white bubble wrap – peak villain chic!
Making a film with this many animals is never simple. While the 1996 film relied heavily on real, trained pups, 102 Dalmatians leaned more into the burgeoning world of CGI and animatronics alongside the real animals, especially for complex sequences like the bakery scene where pups run riot with dough and flour. It’s a blend that mostly works, maintaining that tangible feel we loved in 90s family adventures while allowing for slightly more ambitious set pieces. Filming involved careful coordination, with the RSPCA keeping a close eye on things, ensuring no puppies were harmed in the making of this fur-obsessed fantasy. Fun fact: the reported budget ballooned to around $85 million, quite a jump from the original's $75 million, but it still pulled in a respectable $183.6 million worldwide, proving Cruella's enduring, if slightly diminished, box office appeal.
### Still a Spot of Fun?
Look, 102 Dalmatians doesn't quite capture the same lightning-in-a-bottle magic as its predecessor. The plot feels a bit like a remix of the first film – rescue the pups, stop Cruella – and the new human leads, while likeable, don't quite have the same spark as Jeff Daniels and Joely Richardson. The charm feels a little more manufactured, the formula a little more apparent.
But here’s the thing: it’s still a ridiculously entertaining ride. Glenn Close is operating on a whole other level, clearly relishing every cackle, every sneer, every over-the-top gesture. Gérard Depardieu is a wonderfully campy foil. The visuals are vibrant, the slapstick is energetic (Cruella ending up baked into a giant cake is pure cartoon logic brought to life), and the sheer audacity of Cruella's villainy remains strangely captivating. It’s the kind of film that might have been a Friday night rental staple, perhaps watched after the original, offering another dose of colourful chaos and canine capers. It might not be high art, but sometimes, isn't a bit of high-fashion villainy exactly what you need?
VHS Heaven Rating: 6/10
Justification: While lacking the freshness and tighter narrative of the 1996 original, 102 Dalmatians delivers exactly what it promises: more Cruella, more puppies, and more extravagant silliness. Glenn Close’s iconic performance alone elevates the material significantly, and the production design remains a visual treat. It's formulaic, yes, and the plot runs thin, but it provides enough family-friendly fun and visual flair to warrant a nostalgic viewing, earning it a solid 6.
It might not be the ultimate Dalmatian adventure, but as another chapter in the saga of cinema's most fabulously horrid villain, it definitely left its own stylish spot on our screens.