Notable Cast: Peyton Elizabeth Lee, Jacob Tremblay, Carey
Mulligan, Mahershala Ali, Angela Bassett, Awkwafina, Jake Johnson, Charlie Day,
Amandla Stenberg, Jemaine Clement, Maya Erskine, Tantoo Cardinal, Tom Waits,
Richard E. Grant, Arthur Knight
Whenever a new Laika film is announced, it’s a time to
celebrate. Stop-motion animation may have been seen as an antiquated process,
too time-consuming and too expensive to warrant use, yet over the last couple
of decades, it's become a universal form of cinematic expression, a way for
auteur storytellers to showcase their dedication to “hands-on” creativity. In
the wake of an AI explosion, particularly the tidal wave of inhuman generative
AI slop, stop-motion animation feels remarkably comfortable, standing as a
bastion of an art form whose artists' fingerprints are literally all over
it.
For that reason alone, I would suggest everyone see the
latest Laika film, Wildwood. Blood, sweat, tears, patience, creativity,
and determination are all on screen, in every frame, of a film in this form,
and that in itself is a lighthouse in the story of AI. Odd to think about,
considering Laika announced this film 15 years ago, which feels like eons
before generative AI even existed. Which, to be fair, makes my stomach hurt to
think about.
Yet, that’s not the only reason to see Wildwood. Say
what you want about supporting art, specifically art of any type in the wake of
extinction at the hands of bots, but supporting great art makes it easy. Wildwood
is absolutely that. Travis Knight and his team have crafted perhaps the
greatest stop-motion animated spectacle of all time, built on magical,
fantastical designs and powered by a coming-of-age story that grapples with the
complicated morals and emotions of a modern world; Wildwood is totemic.
Its execution rivals the magic of its characters, its heart beats to the rhythm
of its artistic integrity, and it still manages to be one of the most thrilling
fantasy adventures of the last 20 years. Wildwood is the pinnacle of
what Laika was built to do as a studio, and seeing it succeed so effortlessly
is the kind of cinematic enchantment we need these days.
Wildwood starts off with a fairy tale. The film’s
heroine, Prue - voiced by Peyton Elizabeth Lee- has heard it before, and so
have we. Castles and royalty, loss and bravery, and a world out there that is
dangerous and exciting just outside of our scope. Her father, voiced by Jake
Johnson in another incredible performance, warns Prue’s toddler brother of the
dangers he faces, a warning not unlike those of the Brothers Grimm. She scoffs
at the idea. Another morality tale? Please. The real world has no time for such
things, and she swears to protect her brother because why would she ever let
him wander into the fantastical?
Director Travis Knight and screenwriter Chris Butler know
you’ve seen the fantasy adventure story before too. They’ve heard it before,
just like Prue, and they know we have. They don’t try to deny it, nor do they
try to convince us that it’s different this time. Instead, the film builds on
those feelings and understandings as a blueprint. The world of Wildwood,
the mystical place where most of the film takes place, is built on those
elements. Humanoid animals that speak in our language, evil queens, mystic
druids, a rescue plot that has its protagonists meet various heroes in
different lands, and child endangerment. It’s all here. Wildwood never
shirks owing its influences, whether it's Labyrinth or Princess Mononoke, from
its DNA. It uses that language to tell its characters' stories and, without
acknowledging it directly, stays refreshingly honest.
As an adventure film, Wildwood stuns. As with all
Laika films, it’s absolutely gorgeous visually in every moment. The animation
and attention to detail, whether it's the real-life locations of Portland used
in the opening act or the amount of movement on screen at any given time,
especially the number of characters, their natural settings, and the weather,
is jaw-dropping. Thinking about the hard work and effort it took to consider
all of this could give me an aneurysm if I try too hard, but it’s all there.
Right on the screen with you.
To drive the point home, the film never cuts corners. While it's mind-boggling to think about the audacious nature of taking on the stop-motion battle sequence in the final act - which has no problem showcasing the violence inherent in the clashing armies as they stand and fight for their beliefs, and I’m pretty sure I was keen to see a decapitation in the background that sent a head flying - the real astounding feat of its animation is the truth in the expressions of characters' faces. It’s hard enough to warrant large-scale movement and pacing in this medium, but the manner that they animate the humanity in all of its characters - the inherent sadness that feeds into madness for the film’s antagonist, Alexandra, or the complexity of the overlapping emotions that Prue works through with her parents as she discovers the truth about her family is what makes Wildwood so impressively effective. And that’s something to be said for a film that regularly uses massive flocks of birds as characters in its narrative.
At its heart, though, Wildwood is a coming-of-age
film, which fits its adventure narrative like a tailored glove. As with so many
films of this ilk, it marries the unveiling of the fantastical with its
characters' growth. The adventure she is taken on reveals something unique
about the film. Her growth as a character and the narrative threads that run
throughout the film culminate in two overarching themes worth
noting.
The first is the transition from child to adult and the
realization that reality undermines the belief in magic. It’s hard to believe
that would ever be true while basking in the gorgeously animated sequences that
litter the film with layers of movement to add to its scope, yet the film
certainly carves out its thematic narrative that, for a young person, the
“real” world, with its threats and learned responsibilities, would eventually
negate the magic of the world for them. Even with true magic in this world,
Prue must still come to terms with addressing threats and learning
responsibilities. It’s not that the real world negates the magic. It only
reinforces it. She makes mistakes, like believing in Alexandra’s intentions or
disregarding her school friend Curtis as incapable, and the magic is not there
to fix it. She has to fix it. As a coming-of-age tale, it’s impressive
that the film doesn’t just stop at the lesson that “magic is still real” as an
adult, but that it’s more complicated than that and magic is not the fix. It’s
just the tool.
This approach to believing in magic blends well with its other overarching theme: moral complexity. Too often, young adult stories, especially family-friendly films, lean into one or two morals. Effort is important. Love conquers all. Family is forever. Whatever it is, those films tend to have a clear-cut message. With Wildwood, the message isn't as clear-cut. As Prue truly comes into her own, navigating her feelings about her role in the adventure and what she should have learned, she bluntly tells her father it’s just ‘complicated.’ He agrees. Most things are. It’s perhaps the biggest aspect that sets Wildwood aside from its peers. The moral of the story isn't the same for everyone. Alexandra went to war; people and animals died because she could not let go of her lost son. Prue went to war; people and animals died because she could not let go of her lost brother. Alexandra’s son was lost. Prue’s brother was found. The emotions were the same; the difference was only that in Prue’s plight she saved Wildwood instead of tearing it apart. That’s complicated to consider. This is just one of the many complicated emotional aspects the film manages so expertly for its characters and its audience. If anything, this modern take on the morality of the coming-of-age story is why the rest of the film feels so expressive. It’s the heart of the film, in all its complicatedness, and it lets its magic animate the visuals, the performances, and the writing.
Travis Knight knows how to craft a family-friendly story through
his visuals, his understanding of color and lighting, and his impeccable
pacing, but it’s how he uses the incredible script to bring its characters and
world to life that makes this Laika’s tour de force. The film leans into its
complications, whether it's the details of its stop-motion medium or its characters' emotions, and that's what makes it so, so affecting. The druid
in the film says people forget magic, but magic doesn't forget us, and Wildwood
proves it. In a world where artificial intelligence is stealing art, political
systems strip us away of our rights as people to live as people, and lives feel
torn apart by segregation and unchecked emotional trauma, Wildwood tells
us that, yes, it is complicated, but standing up to fight for the misunderstood
bandits, the farmers, and the children stolen by an army led by broken leaders
is what makes it all worth it.
For all of us who have become too critical or too cynical, Wildwood
is there to remind us, all of us, that the magic still believes, even if we
don’t.
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