Coraline is now showing in selected cinemas nationwide. LAIKA: Frame x Frame, an exhibition documenting the stop-motion worlds created by the acclaimed animation studio, is open until October 1st at BFI Southbank. Book Tickets.
Despite critical acclaim, 2009’s Coraline went somewhat under the radar when it first hit cinemas. Perhaps after a decade of wonderful but light-hearted Pixar and DreamWorks films, its horror-adjacent tone was considered too unorthodox for an animated picture. But I remember how much it captivated me. Its story, visuals, and atmospheric eeriness were like nothing 12-year-old me had experienced. Fifteen years later, it remains one of my all-time favourite films.
Based on Neil Gaiman’s novella and written/directed by Henry Selick of The Nightmare Before Christmas fame, Coraline is a claymation picture that could be described as a grotesque Alice in Wonderland. Coraline Jones (Dakota Fanning) is an 11-year-old who has recently moved to Oregon. She is bored by her dilapidated new home and its barren garden, and feels neglected by her stressed father (John Hodgman) and strict mother (Teri Hatcher). The only intriguing thing about her home is a tiny door in the living room that goes nowhere.
One night, she wakes up and finds that the door does indeed go somewhere: to a parallel world like her own, but with significant differences. The garden is exquisite, the house is alive with colour, and the button-eyed doppelgangers of her parents give her all the attention she craves. Her “Other Mother” is especially loving with her delicious meals and affectionate treats. But this seemingly perfect world has a dark underbelly, one Coraline eventually uncovers and must escape.
Coraline cements its timelessness by adopting and reconfiguring old-school techniques and inspirations. As with The Nightmare Before Christmas, Selick and team opted for stop-motion animation to tell the story, a choice that brings the stunning narrative to life. Where modern CGI techniques might’ve seemed too polished, the physical handcrafting in the sets, models and movements breathes impeccable authenticity into the film. It’s a labour of love that likewise draws on childhood tales of old. Coraline would be right at home alongside fairy tales like Hansel and Gretel, especially given that it is about a child facing temptation and mythical creatures. Even the murky colours and exaggerated character models that dominate Coraline’s reality could be taken straight from the Brothers Grimm.
The colour palette is weaponised effectively to create striking visuals, a choice reminiscent of fantasy films like The Wizard of Oz. Coraline’s initial dissatisfaction is reflected in the muted pinks and ageing greys of her new home. Contrast that with the other world’s warm yellows, blues and purples. It creates an inviting, idyllic setting, only to turn our blood to ice when the sinister truth is revealed, and those same warm colours become harsh greens, deep reds, and soulless black and white. It’s remarkable how so many of the same models and set pieces that inspire wonder in the first half become so horrifying in the second, with the Other Mother’s evolving character design becoming the stuff of nightmares. Underlying it all is Bruno Coulais’ score, strange, haunting, and beautiful all at once. The combination of string instruments, synthesisers, and even a childlike choir singing in cultish gibberish creates lullabies from hell.
By choosing the old-fashioned but demanding methodology of stop-motion to generate the film’s thrills, Selick and team show their gratitude and love for the medium. This touching sentiment ties into Coraline’s central theme: the danger of ingratitude or wishful thinking. This theme informs the visuals and the ominous atmosphere that lingers in every frame, even when Coraline is being spoiled with treats, games and affection from the Other Mother, whose possessive nature makes her a terrifying antagonist.
Coraline could be accurately described as a horror film, with its creepy dual imagery, its spine-chilling music and models, and, particularly, its unconventionally slower pace, a choice that allows the audience to soak up the suspense. The story’s horrifying revelations, paired with visuals and set pieces that shift from benign to malicious throughout the film, only intensify the film’s remarkable grip on our senses. This is a rare modern PG film that feels worthy of its certificate – to the point where it pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable for the rating.
Travelling through this wonderland of eeriness and creativity are compelling characters whose personalities prove just as idiosyncratic as the tone. Instead of the pureness often seen in old Disney heroines, the characters of Coraline all have a degree of nastiness. Coraline herself is quite bratty, but her feelings remain identifiable and treated with earnestness, especially as she grows to reject the other world and its seemingly perfect temptations. Fanning brings vibrancy and spunk to Coraline, making her a fresh, exciting heroine. Hatcher is especially mesmerising in her dual role as Coraline’s no-nonsense mother and as the acquisitive Other Mother. Her use of similar inflexions for both voices adds to the film’s spine-chilling parallels between reality and the other world – her overly loving declarations becoming nail-biting in the process.
Coraline proudly challenges its audience. Its fairy-tale roots breed familiarity, while its reversal of typical tones, characterisations and themes gives it an original and haunting coat of paint. Even the fact that Coraline’s name is a reworking of the more common Caroline – something acknowledged in the film – hints at how the story plays with its tropes and genre to entice its audience, whether through visual enchantment or outright horror. In doing so, it set the precedent for Laika Studios and its range of remarkable claymation films, all of which offer mature, imaginative alternatives to the general springiness of most Disney animations.
I’ve rewatched Coraline dozens of times since its initial release. My enthusiasm for it has only grown. A masterclass in stop-motion animation, it’s an enchanting spectacle that engrosses us through its ominous story, visuals, themes and atmosphere, one whose growing popularity both warms my heart and leaves me feeling extremely validated. Its recent 2024 re-release has given me the perfect opportunity to lavish it with praise, but the truth is I will never tire of this film and everything it has to offer. Compelling, beautiful, dark, funny, horrifying, and everything in between, Coraline should be recognised for what it is: one of animated cinema’s greatest offerings.
Follow Us