The Hoppers Playbook
How Pixar Turned a Meme-able Lizard into a Modern IP Launch
Animation has always occupied a unique position within the film industry. It is one of the few genres capable of consistently generating both significant revenue and long-term cultural impact. When it works, it doesn’t just perform well at the box office, it embeds itself into people’s lives.
Characters become part of childhoods, worlds extend far beyond the screen, and entire ecosystems of merchandise, spin-offs, and fan engagement begin to form almost naturally.
What makes that particularly interesting today is just how difficult it has become to launch something original within that space.
Audiences are no longer choosing between one or two films at the cinema. They are choosing between streaming platforms, social media, games, and an almost endless supply of content competing for their attention at any given moment. In that environment, simply having a good film is no longer enough. The surrounding campaign has to do more than inform; it must persuade, entertain, and, in many ways, begin building the world before the audience has even bought a ticket.
That is why Hoppers stands out. Not just as a successful release, but as a clear signal of how original IP now has to behave in order to break through.
Not necessarily because it is the definitive example of modern animation marketing - Pixar themselves have arguably delivered stronger, more holistic campaigns in the past - but because it adds another compelling layer to an evolving playbook. It demonstrates, quite clearly, how original IP can still cut through, provided it understands the rules of the current landscape.
Performance & Reception
When Curiosity Converts
Released on March 6, 2026, Hoppers follows Mabel, a girl who “hops” her consciousness into a robotic beaver in order to infiltrate the animal kingdom and protect a woodland habitat. It is a premise that feels both familiar and slightly absurd; the kind of high-concept idea that can either struggle to find its audience or resonate in a very particular way.
In this case, it was the latter.
The film opened to $46 million domestically and $88 million worldwide, marking the strongest debut for an original Pixar film in several years. More importantly, it held exceptionally well into its second weekend, dropping just 37% to $28.5 million. That kind of hold is often a clearer indicator of success than the opening itself, particularly in a market where front-loaded debuts are common and attention drops off quickly.
Now in mid-March, the films reached near $165 million globally, outperforming recent originals (looking at you Elio) and signalling a meaningful rebound for Pixar in this space.
Critically and commercially, the response aligned. A 94% audience score and an “A” CinemaScore reflect a film that connected broadly, particularly with families. It has been described as one of Pixar’s funniest releases in years, leaning more heavily into chaos and absurdity than some of its recent counterparts.
Even the small pockets of criticism - largely centred around slightly darker or more intense moments in the latter half - seem to have added to the conversation rather than detracted from it. If anything, they gave the film an additional layer of intrigue.
What this ultimately shows is quite simple: the campaign didn’t just drive awareness. It successfully converted curiosity into sustained engagement.
Understanding the Real Audience
One of the more important things to recognise with a film like Hoppers is that the primary target audience is not actually children; kinda.
Children are the most visible part of the equation. They are the ones laughing at the trailers, sharing clips, and engaging with characters like Tom Lizard. But they are not the ones buying the tickets.
That responsibility sits with parents.
The dynamic at play here can be understood as a “pest to power” model. The role of the campaign is not to directly convince the decision-maker, but to create enough interest and excitement within the child that the decision is, in effect, made for them. The child becomes the advocate, and the parent becomes the facilitator.
In an environment where attention is fragmented and choices are endless, this kind of indirect persuasion becomes even more valuable.
What Hoppers did particularly well was understanding how to initiate that chain reaction.
From its earliest marketing materials, the film positioned itself as energetic, chaotic, and, above all, funny. The trailers leaned heavily into rapid-fire gags and exaggerated scenarios, while the posters embraced a kind of playful absurdity; bright colours, expressive characters, and situations that felt more silly than sentimental.
This matters, especially in a post-streaming environment where the default behaviour for many families is to wait; a trip to the cinema can be expensive especially if you have multiple kids. By framing the film as something immediately enjoyable - something that could hold a child’s attention and make the cinema trip feel worthwhile - the campaign lowers the barrier to entry significantly.
The marketing for Hoppers didn’t ask audiences to invest emotionally upfront.
It simply invited them to have a good time.
The Marketing Engine
Familiar Foundations, Smarter Execution
At a foundational level, much of Hoppers’ marketing strategy follows principles that are already well established within the industry. There is nothing inherently revolutionary about using humour to sell a family film, nor is there anything new about saturating high-traffic environments with out-of-home placements.
However what does stand out, is the precision of the execution and the way these elements were layered together.
Across the UK, the film maintained a strong physical presence. Large-format placements appeared across the London Underground, including high-impact locations on the Elizabeth Line, alongside bus-side advertising and commuter-focused takeovers; I liked the South Kensington tunnel takeover, perfectly situated for families visiting The Natural History Museum, ideally I should’ve taken photos. These were supported by radio placements during peak travel hours and print executions in publications such as The Times.
Individually, these are standard tactics. Collectively, they form a system of consistent, repeated exposure that reinforces awareness in everyday environments. The film becomes difficult to ignore, not because it is intrusive, but because it is ever-present.
This approach also extended globally.
In Los Angeles, bus stop takeovers were transformed into playful, almost tactile extensions of the film’s world, leaning into scale, colour, and character presence in a way that felt less like traditional media and more like an experience. I could genuinely follow up with a whole other short post on examples I’ve found from the states, y’all get to have a lot of fun with creatives over there…
In Japan, ‘realism’ seems like it was the focus as real logs gnawed by beavers popped up in cinema lobby’s and photo ops appeared in public. Small, but effective details. It grounds the film’s concept in something physical and real, turning what would otherwise be a standard standee into a conversation piece and user generated content.
These executions blur the line between advertising and world-building. They don’t only communicate that the film exists; they reinforce its identity in a way that feels tangible. And in a landscape where audiences are increasingly desensitised to traditional offline formats, that added layer of physicality can be the difference between being seen and being remembered.
More importantly, they serve a broader purpose. In an era where streaming has normalised staying in, out-of-home media plays a crucial role in reintroducing the idea of going out as part of the experience. It acts as a subtle but persistent reminder that this is something happening now, not something to be saved for later.
Where Hoppers begins to differentiate itself more clearly, however, is in how it approaches digital.
Tom Lizard and the Power of the Unexpected
If the physical campaign established presence, Tom Lizard became the bridge that connected that presence to culture.
And honestly, I can’t escape him.
He is everywhere. Across my feed, across platforms, across comment sections. The same dead-eyed stare, the same chaotic energy, the same button-spamming, tongue-flicking nonsense.
And that is exactly why he works.
Tom isn’t just a character. He’s a living, breathing meme.
Before even taking over social feeds, the character began appearing in the real world.
Not in polished, over-produced ways. But in deliberately awkward, low-fidelity moments that felt almost too simple to be official.
Mascots started showing up in cinemas, at events, even behind concession stands. In some cases, they would “interrupt” screenings. In others, they would just exist in the space; spamming a lizard emoji on an iPad, wandering through foyers, or being caught on what looked like CCTV footage.
There’s something important in that.
These executions are incredibly easy to replicate. A green suit, exaggerated movements, minimal dialogue. It’s not high production; it’s high participation.
And that’s the point.
To give a sense of the spread, here are just a few of the ways Tom showed up physically and digitally:
In the real world:
Crashing cinema screenings and interacting with audiences mid-experience
Appearing at IMAX offices, with playful misdirection (Tom Cruise → Tom Lizard)
Serving customers behind cinema counters and greeting guests at entrances
Showing up at random public events, fully leaning into the absurdity
Being captured in lo-fi, CCTV-style clips moving through cinema spaces
Hosting tongue-in-cheek “interviews” and short-form segments in character
Online and in-platform behaviour:
Meme carousels built around “Tom folders” and remixable captions
Short-form videos placing him in everyday scenarios (e.g. triggering water sensors repeatedly)
Trend participation, from “Get Ready With Me” formats to reactive clips
Comment sections flooded with the same looping Tom clips; almost like a calling card
Partnership extensions:
Brand crossovers that adapt his behaviour, not just his likeness
Transport integrations where his “button-spamming” energy translates naturally into the product interaction; Waymo
Cinema partnerships that position him as part of the theatrical experience itself; Odeon
One thing worth calling out here is that Tom doesn’t just exist within the content itself; he exists within the behaviour surrounding it.
I’ve mentioned it a couple of times already, but it’s genuinely hard to ignore once you start seeing it. Almost every post - official or otherwise - ends up carrying some version of the same looping clip in the comments. The button spamming. The blank, almost lifeless expression. The tongue flick. It repeats to the point where it stops feeling like a piece of content and starts functioning as something else entirely.
A reaction. A signal. A kind of shared visual language.
At that point, you’re no longer just distributing content. You’re embedding behaviour into how people communicate with one another. And that’s a very different level of cultural penetration.
This is where the strategy becomes more interesting, because it starts to challenge some of the more traditional assumptions around how campaigns are built. Historically, everything would centre around the lead: recognisable talent, star power, familiar faces that can drive awareness at scale. Hoppers still has that infrastructure in place - a stacked cast, strong performances, all the expected components - but what’s actually doing the heavy lifting in terms of amplification is something far less conventional.
As Chris Colombo puts it, awareness and amplification are not the same thing. A-list talent can ignite a campaign, but amplification often comes from somewhere else entirely. In this case, it comes from a supporting character with no real guardrails, no expectations, and no need to behave “correctly” within the traditional boundaries of brand or narrative.
Tom Lizard became that ‘breakout node’.
He expanded the conversation beyond the typical Pixar audience, creating an entry point for people who may not have engaged with the film otherwise. His presence feels less polished, more chaotic, and infinitely more native to the environments he exists in. And that distinction matters, because in the current landscape, it’s rarely the most important character that travels the furthest.
It’s the most adaptable one.
You see this pattern play out elsewhere as well. Take Grogu, for example. He isn’t the central narrative driver of The Mandalorian, but he is arguably its most culturally significant output. A character that pulled entirely new audiences into the franchise; people who otherwise would not have engaged with the wider Star Wars ecosystem at all.
Tom operates in a very similar way. He lowers resistance. He creates curiosity. He gives people something to latch onto without requiring any real commitment to the broader story. You don’t need to understand Hoppers to understand Tom. You just need to find him amusing, odd, or strangely compelling.
And that, in turn, leads into the broader takeaway.
If you want to compete in the attention economy - if you want to exist within social platforms rather than simply advertise on them - you have to be willing to entertain outside of your core product. You cannot rely on the film alone. You have to create moments that can live independently of it.
That means showing up consistently. Adapting to platform behaviours. Building something that feels less like a campaign and more like a presence that people can engage with over time. Because social media no longer runs on followings in the way it once did; it runs on interests. And those interests are built through repeated, engaging, often slightly chaotic touchpoints that give people a reason to care; even if that care starts at a very surface level.
P.s. I wrote more about this in a previous post through the lens of absurd comedies and finding your audience:
Ultimately though, it becomes a game of cat and mouse.
You entertain the masses to earn attention. You use that attention to create entry points. And from those entry points, you begin to convert different layers of audience; some who stay for the meme, others who move deeper into the world.
Your loyalists will always exist. They are the foundation.
But the broader audience - the ones who weren’t initially in-market - also represent a real opportunity that you cannot let slide.
They just need a reason to step in. For Hoppers, Tom Lizard was that reason.
Social Media as Culture, Not Distribution
Now, whilst Tom Lizard may feel like the centre of gravity, it would be a mistake to assume he represents the full extent of Hoppers’ social reach.
If anything, he’s just the most visible entry point into a much broader, deeply layered distribution system that spans creators, platforms, formats, and behaviours. What becomes clear very quickly is that this isn’t a campaign relying on one tactic or one audience segment. It’s operating across multiple fronts simultaneously, each feeding into the same outcome: sustained cultural presence.
Take influencers, for example. On the surface, this is standard practice. Every film campaign today integrates creators in some capacity. But what stands out here is how naturally those integrations sit within each creator’s existing content style.
You have creators like Bella Prichard documenting UK screenings, focusing less on the film itself and more on the experience surrounding it; the props, the atmosphere, the small details like a beaver-shaped chair that make the event feel worth sharing. Others, like Straw Hat Goofy or Soloscreenings, lean into their established formats: direct-to-camera reactions, quick-turn opinions, content that feels immediate and unpolished in the best way. It’s not overly produced, and that’s precisely why it works.
Then you move slightly outside the expected film commentary space, and things get more interesting. Artists recreating characters out of cardboard. Bakers turning Tom into cakes. Makeup creators painting him onto their eyelids. None of this is forced, and more importantly, none of it feels like traditional promotion. It’s participation.
And that’s the key distinction. The campaign doesn’t just use creators, it gives them something to play with.
That same philosophy extends into how characters themselves are distributed across platforms. As highlighted earlier, ever major character receives their own moment - individual posters, short-form clips, personality-driven edits - creating multiple entry points depending on who or what an audience member gravitates towards. Some will latch onto Mabel, others onto King George, others onto Tom.
Even the smaller executions carry weight. A simple “THIS 🧠 into THIS 🦫” style video becomes a meta joke. A “Your Birth Month = Your Character” carousel becomes a participation mechanic. Downloadable sticker prompts turn characters into tools that live inside group chats, extending the film’s presence into private, everyday conversations.
At that point, the content is no longer confined to feeds. It starts leaking into how people communicate with each other.
The meme layer builds on top of this, but again, it’s not treated as a separate strategy. It’s integrated into everything. Trends are adopted, not interrupted. Whether it’s “Motivation Monday,” slider interactions, or visual bait like “squint your eyes,” Hoppers assets are simply dropped into formats that already exist.
And crucially, they’re executed with just enough self-awareness to feel native. The humour lands because it understands the environment it’s operating in. It doesn’t feel like a brand trying to mimic behaviour; it feels like behaviour that happens to include the brand.
What’s equally important is how this activity extends beyond Pixar’s owned channels. The ecosystem around the film is doing just as much work.
IMAX contributes behind-the-scenes content and interviews that frame the film as an event. Walt Disney Imagineering showcases how the world translates into physical spaces. Retail arms push merchandise drops. Music accounts break down production details. Even outlets like IGN step in with cast interviews and culturally relevant talking points.
Individually, these are small pieces. Collectively, they create a constant stream of touchpoints that keep the film present across entirely different audience segments.
And then there are the quieter, almost incidental moments that arguably say the most.
A monthly recap post that folds Hoppers into Pixar’s wider brand narrative. A simple “tag who you’re seeing this with” prompt that drives social interaction. Even the algorithmic spillover - suddenly being served real beaver/lizard videos because of my constant engagement with Hoppers for example - becomes part of the experience.
It’s all connected.
To say there’s a lot here is honestly an understatement. But the volume isn’t the most impressive part. It’s the cohesion.
Everything, from high-effort influencer collaborations to low-effort meme posts, feels like it belongs to the same system. A system designed not just to reach audiences, but to stay with them; across feeds, across formats, and increasingly, across contexts that extend far beyond the film itself.
From Digital Engagement to Real-World Memory
While the digital execution was undeniably strong, some of the most impactful elements of the campaign came from its ability to extend into the physical world.
The partnership with the National Trust in the UK is a particularly effective example. Through “Hop Into The Wild” trails, the film was translated into an outdoor experience that combined storytelling with exploration. Families were invited to engage with the world of Hoppers in a way that felt tangible, grounded, and shared.
What makes initiatives like this powerful is not just their ability to drive awareness, but their capacity to create memory.
There is a fundamental difference between seeing a piece of content online and experiencing something in a real-world setting. The latter carries a sense of presence that is far more difficult to replicate digitally.
It’s something I became more aware of recently.
Growing up in the ‘sticks’ as we like to say in the UK, a lot of my time was spent in environments where there wasn’t much there in a traditional sense. No constant noise, no endless stimulation; just space. And in that space, imagination tends to fill the gaps.
You project stories onto your surroundings. A tree becomes something else entirely if you allow it to.
I saw that same dynamic play out again not long ago at a wildlife park. There was a simple Gruffalo-themed trail running through the woods. Nothing complex, just cut-outs placed along a path.
But having a child with you that wants to move through it, react to it, engage with it; you realise the execution almost doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the story has been placed into the environment. From there, the audience does the rest.
That is what makes the National Trust partnership so effective. It doesn’t try to overwhelm. It simply creates the conditions for the world of Hoppers to exist outside the screen. And trusts that families will bring it to life themselves.
Interactive Universes and the Next Phase of IP
To add another layer to what is already a very well-oiled machine, Hoppers also extends directly into Fortnite; and, importantly, it does so in a way that feels completely aligned with everything we’ve already discussed.
Even the announcement itself tells you a lot. Rather than opting for a polished reveal, the collaboration was teased through the now-familiar Tom Lizard behaviour; spamming buttons, chaotic energy, low-fidelity humour. It doesn’t feel like a “launch”. It feels like the meme simply found another surface to exist on. The fact that accounts like Disney D23 are jumping into the comments with lines like “Epic crossover?!?” only reinforces that point. The organic and official layers are moving in sync.
And that’s really the underlying shift here.
As I mentioned in my
piece, the playbook has fundamentally changed. You’re no longer building campaigns in the traditional sense; you’re building systems of participation.
In a space like Fortnite, skins aren’t just cosmetic add-ons. They are identity. They are how players express taste, humour, and cultural awareness. They function as fashion, status symbols, and collectables all at once. Which means, quite simply, if your character isn’t playable - if your audience can’t become part of your world - you don’t fully exist within that ecosystem.
That’s what makes the decision here particularly telling.
Out of all the characters available, it’s Tom Lizard who makes the jump.
Not the emotional core. Not the narrative lead. The meme.
Because Fortnite doesn’t operate on narrative importance, per say. Rather, It operates on cultural relevance. Skins are the currency of cool, they signal “I get this reference” in the same way wearing a band tee or a piece of merch once did and still does mind you. Yet Tom, as we’ve already established, is the most adaptable, most recognisable, and most culturally fluid asset Hoppers has.
It’s a perfect fit.
But zooming out slightly, this also sits within a much bigger strategic move. The Walt Disney Company didn’t invest billions into Epic Games for one-off collaborations. This is long-term positioning.
They’re betting on Fortnite evolving into something closer to a digital theme park; a persistent, interactive layer where IP can live, evolve, and be experienced rather than simply consumed.
And when you look at it through that lens, this isn’t just a fun add-on.
It’s infrastructure.
The opportunity isn’t just in dropping a skin and moving on. It’s in building worlds instead of banners. Persistent spaces instead of temporary placements. Environments that players can return to, explore, and use as a canvas for their own expression. Because once you create a space like that, it stops being marketing and starts being destination.
That’s where this is all heading.
You can already see the early signals. A Tom Lizard skin today. Potentially a Hoppers-themed map tomorrow. A playable environment where characters exist, clips are screened, and audiences can move through the world rather than just watch it unfold. It sounds ambitious, but it’s entirely consistent with the direction both Disney and Fortnite are moving in.
And that ties back to the broader shift we’re seeing across the industry.
This era won’t be defined by cinematic universes in the way the last one was. It will be defined by interactive ones. Spaces where audiences don’t just follow stories, but inhabit them.
Fortnite is already functioning as that layer.
Not just a platform. Not just a game.
A cultural backlot.
And in that context, Tom Lizard showing up there isn’t surprising at all.
It’s inevitable.
Ecosystem Thinking as the Underlying Structure
What ultimately ties all of these elements together is a broader approach that could be described as ‘ecosystem thinking’.
Each component of the campaign - from social media and out-of-home placements to partnerships and digital integrations - functions as part of a larger, interconnected system. The goal is not simply to drive awareness through individual channels, but to create multiple entry points that lead back to the same core experience.
A meme becomes a character moment. A character moment becomes a product. A product becomes part of a real-world experience. That experience feeds back into social, and the cycle continues.
This is where Disney’s advantage becomes particularly clear.
They are not building these systems from scratch. They are layering new campaigns onto an existing infrastructure that spans film, parks, retail, and digital platforms.
What Hoppers demonstrates is how that infrastructure can be used more fluidly and more culturally.
Final Thoughts
Looking at Hoppers in its entirety, what stands out is not just how these elements are combined, but which ones are doing the heaviest lifting.
Because while the campaign is undeniably layered, there is a clear throughline running beneath it:
Culture-first thinking.
The memes, the character-led amplification, the platform-native content; these are not supporting tactics. They are central to how the film travels.
Hoppers succeeds not because it reinvents the system, but because it understands where the system has already changed AND chooses to operate within it.
It recognises that audiences no longer engage with stories in a linear way. They encounter them in fragments, across platforms, through interactions shaped as much by other users as by the original creators.
In that context, the role of marketing begins to shift. It is no longer just about telling people what something is. It is about creating the conditions for them to discover it, engage with it, and ultimately carry it forward themselves.
And that is where the real value lies.
If you enjoy deep-dive breakdowns like this - exploring the intersection of film, marketing, and transmedia storytelling - why not stick around.
I write about how stories are sold, how worlds expand, and what the industry gets right (and occasionally wrong) along the way!
This is a fantastic, thorough analysis! I might have to go and watch that film now. I've seen so much promotional material, and I need to see Tom Lizard in action for myself!