Note: This film was watched as part of the 2026 Oak Cliff Film Festival line-up
Dating back to the 1999 short The Scooby-Doo Project, writer/director Casper Kelly has specialized in TV show pastiches. That talent memorably and surreally materialized in his outstanding 2014 short Too Many Cooks, which smushed together countless eras of television history into one kooky nightmare. Kelly contorting small-screen programming into unhinged mayhem continues with his first theatrical film directorial effort, Buddy. The film's title refers to Buddy the Unicorn (Keegan-Michael Key), a cuddly-looking orange unicorn who anchors a children's TV show. This obvious Barney pastiche (Buddy even opens with a riff on a Barney episode where the T-Rex gives a nervous kid "magical" dancing shoes) is incredibly precise in mimicking its influences, right down to the 1.33:1 aspect ratio and colors in the whimsical Fisher-Price-looking sets.
Buddy spends his days singing, dancing, and imparting morals to the four children who live with him. One of those youngsters is Freddy (Delaney Quinn), who begins to suspect something's askew once a disobedient child vanishes. Witnessing Buddy commit an act of violence makes her and the other kids realize that this Barney clone is more Ghostface than the Bear in the Big Blue House. She and her adolescent companions make a break for it. They leave Buddy's house to secure help in the far-off land of Diamond City. Meanwhile, in the real world, Grace (Cristin Milloti) feels like something's off in her life. Like something's missing. A sudden sighting of an orange unicorn on her TV (one that doesn't exist according to the internet) only fuels her suspicions.
Buddy is a longer and grander expansion of Casper Kelly's fascinations (he penned this script with Jamie King). Unfortunately, Buddy also follows numerous projects depicting handmade children's entertainment going dark. In 2019, The Banana Splits Movie had the costumed animal Banana Splits characters going on a murderous rampage. Don't Hug Me I'm Scared delivered a barrage of engrossing shorts juxtaposing children's show puppets with dark storytelling. Even the Five Nights at Freddy's movies, which lend slasher movie energy to Chuck E. Cheese animatronic pastiches rather than kids' television fixtures, tread similar terrain. A new entry in this crowded domain requires more specificity than, unfortunately, Buddy offers.
The greatest issue here is simply that Buddy struggles to feel either shocking or scary. While Kelly's Too Many Cooks had countless visuals that inspired "what am I watching?" emotions in the viewer, Buddy remains relatively straightforward and expected. Surrealism is frustratingly kept to a minimum, while the "darkest" are rarely unpredictable. Decades of "dark Barney" jokes just mean that the idea of a Barney-esque character lopping heads off or exhibiting ghastly injuries doesn't have immense innate value. Only Buddy's grisly solution for how he can fit down a well reaches proper gasp-inducing heights. Otherwise, Buddy struggled to leave me terrified or in suspense. It mostly comes off as the same "what if the Teletubbies killed people?" punchlines I already found old hat in middle school.
Massive props, though, Kelly, cinematographer Zach Kuperstein, production designer Anna Kathleen, and costume designer Shawn-Nova Foley (among many other artists) for making the recreations of a 90s kids program so eerily spot-on. Everything from the textures on Buddy's house to the camera movements to even the ham-fisted musical motifs in the score could easily fit on a Barney VHS tape circa 1997. Even if you've never seen the pop culture properties inspiring these elements, these handmade visual accomplishments would still resonate as exquisitely realized. Happily, inspired practical effects work continues littering the screen even once the story shifts away from Buddy's domain. As a demonstration of tactile craftsmanship, Buddy delivers.
Committed performances from the assorted child actors and Milloti are also laudable, ditto a mid-movie homage to one of the most iconic images from The Night of the Hunter. Unfortunately, Buddy often stumbles when it needs to exude madcap confidence. This is especially true in a plodding finale constantly stopping and then ramping up the film's intensity. This approach comes off as sweaty, not suspenseful. Meanwhile, the less said about the generic stabs at "random" humor, like a grown man making out with a Howdy Doody pastiche, the better. In these moments, Buddy tragically comes off as a shallow masquerade of better, more unhinged children's entertainment pastiches.
For those just looking to see an orange unicorn rip off the face of an anthropomorphized train or stab people, Buddy will fleetingly suffice. For those unfamiliar with works like Don't Hug Me I'm Scared, this title will surely resonate as more distinctively impactful. Alas, Buddy left me largely detached and thinking about how much I preferred that one "cut for time" Saturday Night Live sketch where Michael Keaton played unhinged cash-strapped Pee-Wee Herman. As a showcase for practical effects and accuracy to what it's skewering, Buddy works fine. As a horror film or something new in the crowded space of dark takes on kids' television, Buddy's far from the best pal around.
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