The series doesn’t just rehash the first movie’s "what if food had feelings" gag. Instead, it uses its absurd premise to skewer everything from the failure of utopian communes and the rise of populist demagogues to influencer culture and corporate monopolies (with a hilarious subplot involving a sentient, villainous Twinkie). Almost the entire original cast returns, which is a minor miracle. Seth Rogen’s Frank remains the earnest, slightly dim hero. Kristen Wiig’s Brenda evolves from a damsel in bun-stress to a surprisingly competent political leader. Michael Cera’s anxious, drug-addled juice box is still a scene-stealer, and David Krumholtz’s lavash flatbread, Lavash, gets a much-expanded role as the cynical voice of reason.

The animation has received a noticeable budget bump from the film’s relatively modest $19 million. The food textures look more appetizing (and thus more disturbing when ripped apart). The action sequences are more inventive, including a jaw-dropping set piece where Foodtopia fends off a siege of sentient silverware. Sausage Party: Foodtopia will not win over anyone who hated the original. The dialogue is still wall-to-wall with F-bombs, graphic sexual innuendo, and startlingly violent food deaths. If the thought of a potato being peeled alive or a live-action cooking show (presented as a snuff film for food) makes you wince, this isn’t for you.

However, for fans of the original, Foodtopia is a surprising improvement. The film’s central joke—ha ha, food wants to have sex and die—ran thin by the third act. The series, by stretching that joke into a full political allegory, finds new life. It’s The Walking Dead meets Animal Farm by way of a late-night Comedy Central roast.