Buddy feels like a deranged children’s show discovered on a cursed VHS tape: loud, colorful, impressively handmade, and increasingly hostile to its audience. The puppetry, sets, and practical effects are the main attraction, and Casper Kelly commits so completely to the nightmare logic that even the weaker jokes have a fascinating texture. Unfortunately, what works brilliantly as a sketch strains at feature length. The film keeps escalating without finding enough emotional or comedic variety, so the shock of its premise gradually becomes repetition. Cristin Milioti and the cast sell the panic, while the songs are obnoxiously catchy in exactly the right way. I admired how unapologetically strange it is more than I actually enjoyed it. A memorable orange menace trapped inside a movie that needed a sharper edit—and yes, the end-credits song absolutely rules.