Wildwood broadens the horizons for stop-motion, weaving together phenomenal scope and poignant themes into a quilt of staggering animated thrills and immersion; a riveting and utterly spellbinding feast for the eyes and mind.
During an early scene in Travis Knight’s enthralling stop-motion epic Wildwood, the protagonist, Prue McKeel (Peyton Elizabeth Lee), wakes up from a nightmare. An intense close-up captures her startled reaction as her pupils shrink, adjusting to the light in her room. It’s a tiny detail, but it shows how much attention went into crafting this breathtaking animated feature. In an age where soulless mediocrities use generative AI to churn out hegemonised garbage, movies like Wildwood champion the raw, titanic exhilaration of human creativity.
Based on Colin Meloy’s 2011 novel and produced by Laika, the Oregon-based studio behind Coraline, ambitious doesn’t cover the sheer scale of Wildwood. Stop-motion is a meticulous filmmaking style that creates the illusion of movement in objects via thousands of photographs. Wildwood, utilising 136 sets and 231 practical puppets, runs at 131 minutes, the longest stop-motion film on record. With an average of 24 frames a second, that’s over 150,000 photos merging into an engrossing fantasy. Between the disturbing opening and the nail-biting final battle, the gravity of practical artistry effortlessly pulls us into the picture’s orbit.
Matching the cinematic ardour is the simple wonder of the premise: Oregon teenager Prue’s overprotective parents forbid her from taking her baby brother, Mac, outside. She disobeys, resulting in Mac’s abduction by a murder of crows. Prue, alongside her clumsy classmate Curtis (Jacob Tremblay), pursues them into the Impassible Wilderness, a vast, ominous scar of forestry just outside the Portland border.
Luminous greens and browns create a setting as enchanting as it is darkly mysterious; you feel you can reach out and touch every branch or leaf, the production design so detailed it borders on lifelike. In this spellbinding setpiece, Prue finds herself in the middle of a war. The wilderness inhabitants – bandits, anthropomorphic coyotes, and talking birds, among others – are locked in conflict, spurred by the sinister sorcery of the grief-stricken Dowager Governess, Alexandra (Carey Mulligan). Prue must navigate them all if she is to save her brother.
Those well-versed in fantasy will recognise many of the film’s tropes and visual parallels. Narnia’s roots feed the jaw-dropping spectacle and narrative, right down to its witchy antagonist. The gorgeous depictions of greenery, and its backdrop to gritty war, recall the splendour of Princess Mononoke. Even the central gimmick of a girl being drawn into another world is not unlike Coraline. More than merely wearing its influences on its sleeve, however, Wildwood hybridises its pre-existing foundations to create an immaculate fairytale that’s wholly its own identity.
Just as humanity is at the heart of the film’s mise-en-scene and medium, so too does humanity drive the conflict and characters. Despite the wilderness’s bizarre happenings, many of its occupants are grounded by identifiable vulnerabilities. Curtis is a meek boy who wants to play hero, but the story’s harrowing nature catches him off guard. Prue is a spunky but cynical teenager, eager to grow up. The wilderness’s complexities, magic, and death show her what a world at its worst looks like, setting the stage for her growth into someone who truly values life. These gripping character arcs also convey coming-of-age themes like bravery and the transition to adulthood.
Grief is the most resonant theme. Alexandra is not a power-hungry monster like the White Witch, but a woman consumed by the unimaginable loss of her son; a mother who would rip the world apart if it meant seeing her child take one more step. She commits horrendous actions, but the terrifying sorrow that informs her decisions is what makes her so captivating. Mulligan’s voice acting captures indomitable rage and human heartbreak, while Lee portrays Prue’s unwavering determination. From the similar motivations of its hero and villain to a striking midpoint twist involving Prue’s parents, Wildwood is a hair-raising testament to the extraordinary things, both great and terrible, people can do in the name of love.
While embracing the pastiche of classic fantasy stories, Wildwood doesn’t shy away from the dark realities of its premise. Characters are emotionally and physically scarred by their journeys, with each scrape and cut factored into the stop-motion’s continuity. Others die in fashions that border on gory by family entertainment standards; one sequence involving the coyotes executing prisoners is spine-chilling in its blocking and editing. The 12-minute climactic battle is unapologetically gnarly, the eye-popping amass of models and props clashing in an exciting and intricate, but fiery and bloody affair that rivals the thematic heaviness. Knight’s astute direction refuses to handhold the audience, trusting them to handle whatever bleakness is thrown at them. It’s a rare movie that justifies its 12A certificate.
Still, Wildwood never forgets to have fun with its genre conventions and artistic style. Beyond the playful integration of mystical elements and characters tied to magic and nature, the picture balances mature storytelling with a springy zest for adventure. A sequence in which Prue soars through the skies on the back of a giant eagle is among the film’s most mesmerising in its beauty and deceptive complexity. Moments of sturdy laughter placate the tension as Prue figures out the idiosyncrasies of this supernatural world – such as an urgent delivery service run by tortoises. Livening up the wonder, joy and action is a stacked array of supporting voice talents, including, but not limited to, Mahershala Ali, Awkwafina and Angela Bassett.
All of this makes for a stellar fantasy epic whose power is amplified by the heart and virtuosity of its chosen medium. The inherently painstaking nature of stop-motion elevates the film’s themes, story, and character arcs, revelling in the creative process at every turn. Whether it’s grand environmental awe or the articulate recreation of Portland, the film oozes love and tenacity, with the craft paralleling the storytelling in a seamless ode to cinematic ingenuity.
My introduction to Wildwood began in 2024, when I saw a brief teaser during a Laika exhibit at London’s BFI Southbank. Even then, I felt we were in for something special. To have my expectations so resoundingly exceeded is what makes going to the cinema so magical. Wildwood broadens the horizons for stop-motion, weaving together phenomenal scope and poignant themes into a quilt of staggering animated thrills and immersion; a riveting and utterly splendid feast for the eyes and mind. As of writing this review, it’s my film to beat for 2026’s best.
Wildwood is playing now in cinemas nationwide.
Related Stories
Follow Us