IF review: What if the film with Ryan Reynolds as an imaginary friend does speak to adults yet they refuse to listen?

IF looks like a kids’ movie. It has that playful, colorful surface, the kind of light-hearted fantasy that feels made for children. But as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that this isn’t just a movie for kids. It’s for anyone who’s ever lost something. Anyone who’s had to grow up too fast. Anyone who’s forgotten how to feel safe, soft, or free.

Disclaimer: This review reflects the opinion of its author—coincidence or not, also known as Bea, just like the film's main character—, who still believes in imaginary friends, softness, and the power of films that dare to make us feel. (And does not believe in coincidences.)

What IF is about: Childhood wonder, grown-up grief

The film follows a young girl named Bea, processing grief, illness, and the fear of losing her father since she had been through that already with her mother. She crosses paths with Cal, a neighbor who helps her reconnect with a world long abandoned: the world of imaginary friends.

These forgotten companions come alive with charm, humor, and emotional weight, and that's not just for children, but for anyone who once needed something: like an anchor that is visible just to them, to hold on to.

Imaginary friends aren’t just for kids

What starts as a gentle adventure becomes something far more emotional. Because the film doesn’t just show the joy of childhood imagination. It shows what happens when the world tries to take that away.

As adults, we’re told to stop imagining. To let go of play, of make-believe, of anything that can’t be measured or monetized. But IF makes a case for imagination as a tool for survival. It shows that the silly, imaginary friends we once relied on might still be the emotional support we need, especially when life hits hard. Especially when the real world doesn’t offer anything better.

The imaginary friends here go way beyond that mere trope thing. It becomes a metaphor for everything we were forced to abandon to be accepted as grown-ups. And the film dares to ask: what if we never should have?

The emotional core: Bea and Cal

Bea’s story wouldn’t land if we didn’t believe in her. And we do. Her stillness, her sadness, her quiet strength, then the loud and clear sound and imagination that comes from her? It all holds.

And opposite her, Cal becomes more than just a guide. He’s the adult-like reminder that emotional connection is not childish. Being present, being kind, being imaginative, none of these things need to be left behind, dismissed as "things for kids only."

The film doesn’t try to fix anything. It creates space to sit in the feelings. And that’s what makes it powerful.

The soul is there. But where are we?

This is another recent film that was received with mixed reviews. Some praised it as touching. Others said it was “too soft” or “doesn’t speak to adults.” But here’s the thing: I’m an adult. And I got the message.

I got it. Loud and clear. And it hit.

So maybe the issue isn’t that the film isn’t speaking. Maybe it’s that so many adults have forgotten how to listen. We were trained to mock softness. We were taught to dismiss emotion. To reject wonder. We pretend we don’t need those things anymore. But what if we do?

It recently happened with The Electric State, too. Another story full of heart (and soul), dismissed as empty. And maybe it’s not that the stories have no soul. Maybe we’ve built walls too thick to feel them.

Why IF is worth your heart?

This is a film that doesn’t shout. It doesn’t demand attention. It doesn’t try to be clever or cynical. On the surface, it looks like just another film for kids with colorful beings. But it has layers, like an onion, like a Matrioska. It seems to have learned from the Pixar school of making films for kids and adults. And the result? That all combined makes it stand out.

It’s a film that tells you it’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to want comfort. It’s okay to feel the need for an imaginary friend, even if the world tells you you’re too old for that. It’s a movie that understands how fragile people are, and how precious it is to believe in something invisible that still carries you through.

The softness isn’t a flaw. It’s the point.

All in all, it hits deep. It’s a bedtime story for the broken. A reminder that the parts of us we were told to abandon might be exactly what keeps us alive.

Rating with a touch of flair: 5 out of 5 invisible anchors keep us grounded when nothing else does.