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The pessimistic spirit of Charlie Kaufman lives in Decorado's cute animated mouse

A cartoon for the depressed and unemployed that evokes sweetness and existential absurdity alike.

The pessimistic spirit of Charlie Kaufman lives in Decorado's cute animated mouse

A silly duck dressed as a sailor, a couple of cute mice, and a community assembled from their assorted forest friends sounds like something so cloyingly Disney that even the House Of Mouse might balk at the scenario as one courting caricature. But in 2026, the fantasy has cracked. Cinderella Castle is in disrepair; unemployment is spiking in Richard Scarry’s Busytown. In Alberto Vázquez’s Decorado, the silly duck is a strung-out ex-star, the mice are watching their marriage collapse, and the community seems like it’s hiding a dark secret behind their smiling faces. This paranoid and dystopian vision of life under capitalism is grim but funny—surreally cartoonish yet filled with sarcastic adult ennui, like Tamala 2010: A Punk Cat In Space punctuated by a dose of Happy Tree Friends‘ goofy gore, eventually approaching something fearful and self-referential enough to evoke the existential absurdity of Charlie Kaufman.

If that sounds like a tough tonal tightrope to walk, be reassured that this isn’t the first high-wire act for the Spanish director and comic artist. Vázquez tackled militarized fascism with his bright yet bleak UnicornWars a few years ago, and now teams up with co-writer F. Xavier Manuel Ruiz to adapt his own short film. Where Unicorn Wars approached Vázquez’s cuddly strain of misanthropy through the language of war movies and political strongmen (and teddy bears), Decorado asks more existential questions using headier cinematic touchstones and a less candy-coated palette. The chubby and jobless white mouse Arnold (Asier Hormaza), always in his bathrobe, doesn’t just get on the nerves of his long-suffering cartoonist wife Maria (Aintzane Gamiz), but eventually fully breaks down, suffering from a Silly Symphony version of Truman Show delusion.

Arnold’s aimless wanderings through the company town of Anywhere, dominated by the omnipresent branding of ALMA (Almighty Limitless Megacorporate Agency) are as dispiriting as the pills he takes every morning—manufactured by ALMA and made with “100% happiness.” Around his SSRI-deadened stupor are all the charmingly animated signs of degradation that medication is helping him ignore. Arsonists set forest fires, then blame scapegoats; listless demons play the harp for monstrous mermaids; a mushroom man’s starving children take bites out of each other; roving bands of abusive police dogs rough up anyone foolish enough to cross their path; and impoverished shantytowns pop up on the fringes of the community.

Whether outrageous or too close to home, these are what make up the stage and setting—the decorado, as an opening definition explains—of a life that feels increasingly unreal. The oddly specific signs telling Arnold that there are no jobs for him only emphasize the point, and serve as one of the film’s best sight gags. This is a world set against one mouse, or at least one that feels like it. But it also feels like that to some of Arnold’s down-and-out friends, like Pollo Crazy (Raúl Dans) and Ramiro (Ander Vildósola), both of whom suffer terrible fates at the hands of the corporatist state. This leaves Arnold mostly alone to investigate the strange goings-on and maybe-conspiracies of his town.

Like the postmodern lamentations of Kaufman, and even Lars Von Trier (there are images here that access some of the depressed profundity of Melancholia), Decorado rages against the machine with half a smile. Of course, that smirk can be too self-satisfied, like when Vázquez introduces a literal Depression Fairy making Maria’s life hell, but for the most part, the biting little jokes and myriad animated details are clever without relying on edgelord provocations. The bigger issue is the script’s structure, which plateaus quickly as Arnold begins suspecting his environment and treads water too long before finally descending into something suitably stirring in the final few minutes.

The film’s most powerful moments, though, allow us the space to consider how the self-reflections of Decorado feel specific to its creator, yet broadly applicable to any artist trying to create while the world burns. An indie animator like Vázquez addressing the empty victories attained through conformity using a mouse-and-duck story isn’t subtle, but it doesn’t need to be; neither do the self-effacing jabs at arthouse films that nobody sees. It makes for a winningly frustrated film, one that doesn’t imagine either the end of the world or the end of capitalism, but one that imagines a shared struggle through a personal, pithy lens.

Director: Alberto Vázquez
Writer: Alberto Vázquez, F. Xavier Manuel Ruiz
Starring: Asier Hormaza, Aintzane Gamiz
Release Date: May 15, 2026

 
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