Name: Ivy + Bean
Genre: Family, Adventure, Comedy
Released: 2022-09-02T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Keslee Blalock, Madison Skye Validum, Lidya Jewett, Nia Vardalos, Garfield Wilson

The opening scene of Ivy + Bean (2022) is a deadpan masterstroke: Ivy, perched on her windowsill, watches the world with the solemnity of a tiny philosopher, while next door, Bean hurtles down a homemade zip line into a pile of leaves. Director Elissa Down frames these two worlds in stark contrast, setting up the film’s central question—can these opposites not just coexist but thrive? The answer, delivered over 90 minutes, is a resounding yes, though not without some bumps along the way.

Based on Annie Barrows’ beloved book series, this Netflix adaptation follows Ivy (Keslee Blalock), the quiet, introspective neighbor, and Bean (Madison Skye Validum), her boisterous new next-door resident. The film’s strength lies in its faithfulness to the source material’s heart: the messy, beautiful alchemy of friendship. Down and writers Jeff Stockwell and Kathy Waugh nail the tonal balance between whimsy and sincerity, particularly in scenes where Ivy’s cautious nature collides with Bean’s reckless abandon—like their attempt to “borrow” a baby (Nia Vardalos’s Mrs. Trantz) for a day, a sequence that earns laughs without undercutting the emotional stakes.

Down’s direction is at its best when she lets the performances breathe. Blalock and Validum share an undeniable chemistry, particularly in quieter moments, such as their late-night campout in Ivy’s backyard. Here, Down’s camera lingers on the girls’ faces as they whisper secrets under the stars, a subtle but effective choice that underscores the film’s themes of empathy and understanding. The cinematography, though functional, occasionally elevates these scenes with soft lighting and intimate close-ups, creating a sense of warmth and intimacy.

Where the film falters is in its pacing. The first act zips along with energetic charm, but midway through, the plot stalls on repetitive set pieces—Bean’s antics start to feel less like genuine mischief and more like filler. A subplot involving a neighborhood ghost (Lidya Jewett’s Nancy) lacks the bite of Barrows’ original ghost story, diluting tension with broad comedic beats. Down’s reliance on static shots during these sequences further weakens their impact, missing opportunities to visualize Ivy and Bean’s interior lives through dynamic framing.

The performances are a mixed bag. Blalock’s Ivy is a standout—her ability to convey quiet determination with minimal dialogue is remarkable. However, Validum’s Bean occasionally veers into one-note hyperactivity, robbing the character of nuance. The supporting cast fares better, especially Vardalos as the exasperated but loving Mrs. Trantz, who grounds the film’s emotional core.

The originality score takes a hit not because the film is uninspired (it’s clearly made with care), but because it plays too safely within the confines of its genre. The ghost subplot, for instance, feels like a missed opportunity to delve deeper into the girls’ fears and insecurities. Similarly, the film’s resolution—where Ivy and Bean’s friendship is solidified through a climactic adventure—lacks the emotional weight of Barrows’ original stories, which often explored more complex themes of growth and change.

Themes of empathy and understanding are woven throughout the narrative, but they’re rarely explored with the depth found in the books. The film’s central message—that opposites can become the best of friends—is a valuable one, particularly for its target audience of young viewers. However, the execution often feels simplistic, relying on broad strokes rather than nuanced character development.

Comparisons to other family films are inevitable, but Ivy + Bean struggles to stand out in a crowded field. While it shares DNA with films like Ramona and Beezus (2010) and The Peanuts Movie (2015), it lacks the visual flair and emotional resonance of those projects. The film’s reliance on static shots and conventional cinematography further distances it from more visually inventive family fare.

Ultimately, Ivy + Bean is a solid but unremarkable addition to the genre. It’s clear that Down and her team care deeply about the source material, and there are moments of genuine charm and warmth.