“Super Mario Galaxy: The Movie” gets polarizing reviews? I actually kind of want to live in it.

There weren’t many people in the theater for the late-night screening. As soon as the screen lit up and the sea of stars spread out, I instinctively sank a bit deeper into my seat, like I was looking for a spot closer to the window so I could “poke my head out and look at the universe” whenever I wanted. In that moment I realized this Super Mario Galaxy: The Movie might not be the smartest film of the year, but it’s very likely one of those most suitable for screenshotting as a screensaver. Some people care about plot structure, some stare at dialogue rhythm, but as someone with a screenshot compulsion, my first reaction is always: if I could rent a tiny place in this starry sky, would I be willing to pay the rent?

Back to the movie itself: its current situation is a bit like a small asteroid caught between the gravity of two planets. On the critics’ side, it’s only got about 40% on Rotten Tomatoes, while audiences have given it nearly 90% on the popcorn score. This split-screen effect is even more dramatic than the planets sliced in half in the game. As someone who usually checks ratings first before deciding whether to “move in for a night,” I felt a bit off looking at those two numbers—like the weather forecast says it’s going to rain, but outside the window it’s clearly sunny. In the end I could only walk into the theater myself to see how strong the wind really was.

Judging purely from the atmosphere, this film actually “knows what it wants to grow into.” The galactic backdrop is like a vast sheet of deep blue glass that’s been polished for ages. The stars aren’t randomly scattered specks of light; they sway rhythmically behind the characters, like a soft echo laid under every movement. When Mario, Luigi, and the Princess are standing side by side in space, there were moments I genuinely held my breath. It’s not a feeling of awe, but a simple sense that “the image is just right,” like a screen whose brightness and contrast have just been tuned perfectly. You can’t help but look at it for a couple more seconds before slowly blinking.

But outside of the visuals, the public discourse this time has been much less gentle. Some netizens have reduced the critics’ low scores to a “formula,” which roughly goes: if your male lead is a man, you have no Black characters, no gay characters, and the main storyline is still a heterosexual romance, then the media will demonize your movie. Related memes are piled up in the comment sections, and some people half-jokingly, half-complainingly say, “Soon you’ll see something like a ‘Black Bowser-sister’ setup.” Whether or not you agree with that view, just a brief scroll through social media is enough to feel a mood that mixes teasing with exhaustion, like the damp wind before a storm slowly seeping into every discussion thread.

From a gamer’s perspective, what I’m more curious about is whether the movie captures that cool yet fairy-tale-like sense of space that Super Mario Galaxy had. My favorite thing to do in the game is to ignore the main quest, circle around each tiny planet, slowly push the camera in to watch the light slide along the edge of the celestial body, and then hit the screenshot button. The film carries this over fairly well. Many shots give the characters and environments enough distance; the starry sea isn’t just a backdrop, but something that participates in the emotion. It dims when things are quiet and gets brighter when characters are racing about, like another melodic line running alongside the score.

Coming back to that polarized set of ratings, you could see it as a textbook “case of misalignment between the player community and mainstream criticism.” Critics look at whether the narrative is innovative and the characters are diverse; audiences partly look through nostalgia goggles, partly chase pure fun. And there’s a big group like me who care most about whether the atmosphere can briefly make you forget reality, whether you’re willing to stay in your seat when the end credits song starts, letting the names slide down like a meteor shower in front of your eyes. If “would you want to live in it” were the only metric, then for me, Super Mario Galaxy: The Movie is at least a space hotel worth a short-term stay. The water pressure might be mediocre, the breakfast average, but the nebula outside the floor-to-ceiling windows is beautiful enough to make you quietly sigh when you get out of bed.

As for whether you should “buy a ticket and move in,” I’d give three simple suggestions: If you’re a fan of the original, and you still have even a bit of affection for the visuals and music, don’t let that 40% scare you off—the galaxy inside the theater is worthy of at least one late-night visit. If you’re taking kids, just treat it as a vividly colorful space amusement ride; don’t expect to attend an open lecture on sociology. And if you don’t care about this IP at all and are just passing by, follow your own audience instincts: decide which weather forecast you trust more, or simply do what I did—step into the darkening auditorium, wait until the first beam of starlight hits your face, and then decide whether you want to sit in this universe a little while longer.