‘Slumberland’ Review: Jason Momoa Clowns Around in Netflix’s Lousy ‘Little Nemo’ Movie

This way-off-base adaptation of comics maestro Winsor McCay's classic character bombards kids with bogus believe-in-yourself lessons and ugly visual effects.

Somewhere between “Alice in Wonderland” and “The Little Prince” in style and sensibility, Winsor McCay’s weekly funny-pages serial “Little Nemo in Slumberland” more than deserves a proper big-screen adaptation. Not that people haven’t attempted it over the years. (At one point, Hayao Miyazaki tried to get an animated version made. Live-action “Dream One” came closest.) And not that “Constantine” director Francis Lawrence’s ugly and all-around off-putting kiddie movie counts — or even has much of anything to do with McCay’s ultra-imaginative turn-of-the-20th-century comic strip.

Yes, the main character is named Nemo, and yes, most of the film takes place in the fantastical subconscious realm of Slumberland, where gravity and time play by altogether unpredictable rules. But that’s about as far as the similarities go — which might explain why Netflix hasn’t bothered to underline the connection in its marketing campaign. “Slumberland” feels less like an adaptation of “Little Nemo” than another big, unwieldy modern visual effects movie loosely “inspired by” an earlier piece of name-brand IP (à la Ben Stiller’s “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” which it rather unfortunately resembles).

Here’s the pitch: Only child Nemo (in a nifty twist, that’s a girl’s name in this imagining) was raised in a lighthouse by her dad, who tells her a vivid bedtime story before disappearing abruptly after the first scene. The accident occurs off-screen and is barely dealt with before Nemo’s packed up to live with her awkward uncle (Chris O’Dowd) in the big city, which she doesn’t like one bit. As Nemo’s new guardian, he sends her to school and struggles to relate, leaving Nemo to her dreams, which have become excitingly vivid since her father’s passing.

The first night in her new home, Nemo’s bed sprouts long spider-like legs, crawls out the window and carries her all the way back to the lighthouse, where she meets Flip, a self-proclaimed “outlaw” thief in a pink suit and feathered top hat. It’s a flamboyantly clownish role of the kind that typically goes to Johnny Depp, but which instead falls to Jason Momoa. While that casting may sound like a distant-second choice, it’s just about the best thing “Slumberland” has going for it. Audiences aren’t accustomed to seeing the “Conan” star’s comedic side, so it’s kind of a gas watching him don a prosthetic belly, pastel nails and pointed teeth to play an impishly uncouth dream-crasher. As Nemo, newcomer Marlow Barkley suggests a young Saoirse Ronan, but never gets the chance to show her range — or to deal with her character’s more complicated feelings.

Instead, “Slumberland” focuses on delivering kid-friendly adventure. Flip (who was a recurring character in McCay’s original comics) is looking for a treasure map that will direct him — and Nemo, who’s clever enough to find it — to a stash of wish-granting pearls. Nemo wants to bring her father back, which might lead you to believe the movie will prove to be about coming to terms with grief and loss, but screenwriters David Guion and Michael Handelman do such an awkward job of handling Dad’s disappearance in the first place, it’s no surprise the resolution to that storyline proves unsatisfying.

“Slumberland” is stronger at conjuring elaborate dream worlds than it is at crafting a satisfying emotional foundation, which is generally true of Lawrence’s past projects as well. Like something out of a Pixar movie (“Monsters Inc.” minus the monsters, perhaps), the film presents a fairly original take on how dreams might be created and managed: They’re all based out of a massive skyscraper where different genres of sleepytime experiences occupy separate floors. With the map in hand, Flip and Nemo figure out how to move between them, which makes for a wild ride, as one person’s butterfly-filled wish-fulfillment fantasy feeds into the toilet tank of an art deco executive bathroom.

At times, “Slumberland” suggests a simpler, kid-friendly spin on “Inception,” although Lawrence lacks Christopher Nolan’s next-level logic and visionary sense of world-building. This movie manages to dazzle at times, but more often than not hurts the eyes, as Lawrence favors wide angles, frantic action and an all-around unappealing visual aesthetic.

The film lacks a conventional villain, serving up sassy “dream cops” who behave a bit like Agent Smith in the “Matrix” movies, as well as a smoky, squid-like nightmare that pursues Nemo throughout Slumberland. It’s all quite garish and rather sloppily organized, which is a shame, since McCay pioneered such an appealing style in his “Little Nemo” comics. The intricately designed end credits — lovely CG vignettes made to look like cut-paper dioramas — rub it in, suggesting a host of other, more intriguing adventures that Nemo could have been exploring instead.