
2001 · Andrew Adamson
For a family movie night when nobody can agree, or when you want to laugh at something that also leaves you a little soft-hearted. Pure comfort with a smirk.
An ogre who wants nothing more than to be left alone in his swamp finds it overrun with evicted fairy-tale creatures, so he strikes a deal with the preening ruler responsible: rescue a princess from a dragon-guarded castle, and get his solitude back. Along for the quest is a donkey who will not stop talking, and a princess who turns out to have ideas — and secrets — of her own.
Fast, cheeky, and stuffed with jokes that fly at two altitudes — pratfalls and pop songs for the kids, sly fairy-tale sabotage for the adults — yet it sneaks up on you with real warmth about being loved as you actually are.
Eddie Murphy's Donkey is one of the great voice performances — motor-mouthed, needy, and impossible to dislike — while Mike Myers gives the ogre a gruffness that keeps cracking to reveal the hurt underneath.
The film weaponizes its whole toolkit against the storybook tradition: a gleaming, theme-park-perfect kingdom played for satire, a pop soundtrack where you'd expect an orchestra, and a script that flips every fairy-tale rule it touches. The CG was cutting-edge for 2001, but it's the comic timing in the editing that still lands.
It won the first-ever Oscar for Best Animated Feature and competed at Cannes, proving animation could be irreverent, adult-witted, and hugely popular all at once — and it reset the tone of American family films for a generation.
Reception & legacy: how Shrek was received, argued over, and remembered →
DreamWorks' fairy-tale demolition job, adapted from William Steig's slim picture book into a pop-culture landmark: an ogre who likes his swamp, a princess with secrets, and a kingdom whose gleaming theme-park perfection is a barely veiled raspberry blown at Disney — reportedly with Jeffrey Katzenberg's post-Disney grudges baked into the villainous Lord Farquaad. The film's irreverence was structural, not just tonal: Smash Mouth on the soundtrack, fairy-tale creatures processed like refugees, a princess who belches. It won the first-ever Academy Award for Best Animated Feature and screened in competition at Cannes, the first animated film to do so since Disney's Peter Pan in 1953 — an almost comically perfect irony. Its legacy cuts two ways: it opened animation to adult wit and genuine sweetness about self-acceptance, and it licensed two decades of smirking, pop-scored imitators. The production's great what-if is audible in its history: Chris Farley recorded most of the role before his death, and Mike Myers, cast in his place, re-recorded the entire part in a Scottish accent — at a cost of millions in redone animation.
Lines of influence