Leo follows the fifth-grade pet lizard as he observes this year’s group of kids. Though it starts at surface-level, at some point it blasts through itself with such pure heart, again and again, that it becomes a real tear-jerker. Both sweet and meaningful.
Unexpected! Because everyone expects an ordinary year this year. Same teacher; bully; clown. Then a substitute arrives and forces each student to take home gross old Leo for the weekend. Until this point the movie is just an onslaught of gags (which sometimes are hilarious and sharp, like the piranha-esque kindergarteners causing mayhem, and which are other times eye-rollingly cheap); but soon, it’ll transform.
Another year; another batch.
As Leo learns at the students’ homes, these kids have problems. Instead of helicopter parents, a drone. Instead of hugs, a deceased loved-one. And so on. So Leo, who has seen it all before, decides in his old age to do something meaningful with his up-until-now-oh-so-meaningless life. And to do it he breaks the biggest rule there is.
What follows is a series of funny and deeply tender interactions, about as realistic as you could expect it to be when a benevolent lizard speaks human. With some coaxing the kids sing about their problems, and Leo, all wobbly and phlegmy, sings back.
Teaching. An art and a science.
Sure, the pacing can be jerky and uneven. And sure, we could do with quite a few less jokes. But the way the moviemakers capture real concerns—and real solutions to them—is as patient and beautiful as kind old Leo is.