We might not be dealing with generations of lore like Star Wars, or rabid fan expectations like the Marvel Universe, but the first two Paddington flicks are no easy act to follow. Arriving on American soil with a hush that’s slowly grown into a roar, director Paul King’s double feature has achieved something like family film cult status, with whimsy and an open-heart leading to endless revisitations. Articles citing Paddington 2 as one of the most fondly reviewed films of all time might be clickbait, but they also point to the near-unanimous praise that the second entry still enjoys, a level of adoration that almost necessitated another sequel. Eight long years have passed since our favorite British bruin escaped wrongful incarceration, more than doubling the time that elapsed between the first two installments, with a commensurate amount of change occurring behind the scenes. A lithe, gentle adventure following an anthropomorphic CGI bear wouldn’t seem to harbor the weight of immense expectations, but don’t be fooled; among a certain crowd, Paddington in Peru is event cinema.

No one involved is oblivious to this fact, especially not director Dougal Wilson, who has some sizable shoes to occupy in King’s absence. Determined to fill them by measuring his forebarer’s feet down to the centimeter, the most notable attribute of Wilson’s aesthetic is its fealty to the house recipe, with bright colors, playful slapstick, and quirky interludes all paying homage to what’s come before. The stylistic kinship is likely a safeguard against the movie’s titular relocation, assuring audiences that you can take the cuddly hero out of Windsor Gardens but not vice versa, and the calculation is a smart one. Things can get a little testy down in Darkest Peru, but the visual and auditory warm bath of the first two outings remains in place. Wilson can’t reach King’s spirited flights of fancy or visual sumptuousness, but his impersonation is surprisingly convincing. You might need a bit more persuading when it comes to Peru’s other prominent absence.

By all accounts, it was Sally Hawkins’ decision not to reprise her role as Mrs. Brown, but the lack of ulterior motivations does little to mitigate the pains of recasting such a central part. Emily Mortimer does her best, but the two actors have wildly divergent talent sets. The previous matriarch was daffy, inviting, and occasionally attuned to a sort of cosmic aloofness that ran countercurrent to everything else on hand, operating as an audience avatar who shared in our bemusement with her surrogate son’s accidental antics. Her replacement is much more brow-beaten and dire, an adjustment that’s regrettably in keeping with the heightened dangers of the movie’s far-flung station. King’s films had their fare share of mortal peril, but Peru ups the ante with a rollicking third act that’s likely to prompt seat squirm among younger viewers. You’d never want to envision a world where Hawkins wasn’t in the initial entries, but this might be the feature that needed her most, the choppier waters here desperately in need of her calming, wide-eyed wonder.

Mortimer’s face isn’t the only new one we meet as the Browns travel to South America, a journey set in motion by a letter from The Home for Retired Bears. The pages, detailing the escalating emotional distress of Aunt Lucy (voiced by Imelda Staunton), prove prophetic when Paddington’s only living relative goes missing, but it’s hard to focus on the dour news when you’re so delighted by its deliverer. Playing a nun whose potential for deceit is made text within minutes of her appearance, Olivia Colman is clearly having a ball, and the joy of watching one of the world’s finest actors completely let loose is irresistible. Antonio Banderas embodies a similar sense of relish as a cartoonishly suave and swashbuckling boat captain, but our familiarity with his presence in less high toned affairs makes his turn less novel. Like Nicole Kidman and Hugh Grant before her, Colman uses the franchise to reset our expectations, and the results are as delicious as a marmalade sandwich.

The fun she’s having threatens to relegate the Brown family to supporting players, but Hugh Bonneville isn’t content to go out quietly. Forever the series’ secret weapon, Mr. Brown’s chafing against his own tentative nature is as broad and jovial as we’ve come to expect, raised in the pecking order of importance by a spouse who’s no longer game for all the rambunctious festivities. He’s an unsung hero, forever destined to take a backseat to the shenanigans of our protagonist, and the weight of our affections won’t be changing anytime soon. Comparing a talking, three foot teddy to dinosaurs and spaceships might sound a little lofty, but the character of Paddington is one of the best special effects in modern cinema, capable of winning our sympathies with the smallest change in expression while existing convincingly in a practical world with human co-stars. Throw in Ben Whishaw’s dulcet, winsome intonation, and you’d be wise to bring a box of tissues.

They may come in handy when the film reaches its penultimate destination, though the trek to El Dorado can be a bit bumpy. It wants for a guiding thematic principle, a mooring akin to Paddington’s exploration of the immigrant story, or Paddington 2’s soft-spoken interrogation of dehumanizing systems of justice. Peru is more of a simple travelogue, tipping its cap to the confusion of straddling between two cultures without fully committing to the motif. The character might just work best as an outsider, especially when the implicit niceties of the project bristle against the more sordid aspects of Britain’s global history. That may be too high-falutin an argument for such a merry, well-intentioned excursion, but watching Machu Picchu crumble at the expense of a computer generated cuddle buddy comes with an unwelcome whiff of colonialism. Thankfully the treasure waiting within is ready to soften the blow.

It’s frankly too good to spoil, operating simultaneously as a twist ending and a reminder of why these movies are so beloved in the first place. Other forms of reminisce are littered throughout, and while callbacks to former triumphs seem to rule the day in our current cinematic landscape, it’s charming to see such a humble collection of films give itself a little pat on the back. A hard stare here, an animated interval there; Peru’s inclination towards self-referentiality skips past the groans of yet another post-credit stinger into something immediately more insular, a well-earned celebration of former triumphs. Perhaps there will be further adventures, and perhaps not; the Paddington flicks aren’t here to advance an agenda or make leering promises of further continuation. They’re polite, never pushy, and even if the trilogy capper can’t reach the heights of its ancestry, you’ll hardly need to be cajoled into looking after this bear.