Portland, Oregon — Laika’s Fantasy Epic Showcases the Extraordinary Power of Stop-Motion Animation
As artificial intelligence advances, a growing debate has emerged over whether art should be judged primarily by its finished product. Some believe AI eliminates the need for artists to develop and refine their skills, allowing them to bypass the creative process and move straight to the final result. Yet the countless decisions involved in making art are not obstacles to overcome. They are central to what gives a work its meaning. Without that extensive process of creation, AI-generated work risks becoming a mixture of existing art, much of it stolen, stripped of the human qualities that make artistic expression meaningful.
Travis Knight’s Wildwood embodies those qualities. Every extraordinary object on screen reflects a remarkable degree of craftsmanship and attention to detail. The film is a fantasy epic running more than two hours, brought to life through breathtaking stop-motion animation. The sheer scale of the production, combined with its chosen medium, makes the achievement difficult to comprehend.
Stop-motion animation has existed since the silent-film era, and its fundamental technique remains largely unchanged. An object is photographed, moved slightly and photographed again, with the process repeated countless times. When the images are played back at full speed, they create the illusion of movement. The result has an uncanny quality because audiences understand that the objects on screen are tangible creations, even as they appear to move independently.
The process is extraordinarily labor-intensive and intricate. Producing an entire feature film this way can seem either impractical or the work of obsessive creative brilliance. Laika, the studio behind Coraline, ParaNorman and The Boxtrolls, has repeatedly demonstrated that it belongs in the latter category. Its films possess a distinctive eccentricity, and their handmade quality can be difficult to believe, even when computer-generated imagery is incorporated.
Among Laika’s productions, few are as ambitious as Wildwood. Based on the novel by Decemberists frontman Colin Meloy, with illustrations by Carson Ellis, the film follows Prue (voiced by Peyton Elizabeth Lee), a girl living in Portland, Oregon. Her parents are so protective of her infant brother, Mac, that they make her promise never to allow him to leave the house. Prue immediately breaks that promise and discovers the terrible consequences when a vast murder of crows kidnaps Mac, carrying the screaming baby into the sky.
Determined to find her brother, Prue ventures into the woods with Curtis (Jacob Tremblay), an awkward local boy. Their journey takes a dangerous turn when they encounter coyotes dressed in human clothing. The animals attack the pair, separating them.
Prue travels through a succession of fantastical towns, uncovering the legendary history of the Impassable Wilderness while gradually becoming involved in a revolution. Meanwhile, Curtis is captured and taken to the Dowager Governess (Carey Mulligan), who attempts to lure him with the promise of power and violence. Curtis, however, is a compassionate pacifist, and his experience becomes an emotionally demanding ordeal that challenges his philosophical convictions.
Adapted for the screen by Chris Butler, the story draws on familiar fantasy traditions. The Dowager Empress recalls C.S. Lewis’ White Witch, complete with a heartbreaking history. An army of birds that Prue befriends evokes Tolkien’s Middle-earth, while the world’s collection of anthropomorphic inhabitants appears to have emerged from Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland, bringing its absurd bureaucracy along with it. Ultimately, the film builds toward a battle to save the world, a familiar destination for tales of magic and adventure, even those opposed to war.
Recognizing these influences does not diminish the film, although they occasionally make its narrative feel conventional. Rather than blending its inspirations into an indistinguishable collection of imitations, Wildwood carefully combines them into a distinctive mosaic. Its references feel deliberately chosen and assembled with affection, creating an imaginative world shaped by countless creative decisions. And the filmmakers accomplish far more than simply bringing these familiar elements together.
Virtually every character, set, prop and movement in Wildwood feels like an individual feat of illusion. The sheer number of these achievements can overwhelm the senses. Some sequences feature thousands of moving elements operating across multiple levels, with activity unfolding overhead and along the ground as combatants attack one another and volcanic fire consumes the forest.
Many fantasy films build toward elaborate climactic spectacles, but the age when productions emphasized enormous casts and thousands of performers has largely passed. Modern visual effects have made spectacular imagery easier to produce than ever, even without relying on AI.
With Wildwood, however, the difficulty is unmistakable, and that difficulty was embraced deliberately. Knight’s film is impressive even for viewers unfamiliar with the production techniques behind it. For those who understand even a little about the process, the result ranks among the most astonishing animated films ever made.
The film’s extraordinary visual impact depends on the painstaking work required to bring it into existence. Every detail represents a substantial undertaking, and countless people had to determine that each element justified the immense effort involved.
Even with an average story, Wildwood would be among the year’s finest films. Its narrative, however, is far from mediocre. The story is emotionally powerful, its central characters are layered and compelling, and its villains possess intriguing dimensions. An extensive supporting cast adds further richness through characters with distinctive personalities and qualities.
At its heart, the film explores the sacrifices people are willing to make for those they love. That theme lends additional emotional weight to the extraordinary work Knight and Laika have undertaken for their audience.
Wildwood is an exhilarating cinematic experience because the artists’ commitment is evident in virtually every frame. The film makes a powerful case that art cannot truly exist as a meaningful human expression without the effort required to create it.
That effort extends beyond technical mastery. Not every artwork needs the enormous scale and complexity of Wildwood, and expecting every production to meet that standard would be unreasonable. Craftsmanship must also serve a compelling story, bring characters to life and communicate ideas worthy of expression. Those elements demand their own forms of dedication.
Wildwood succeeds on multiple levels, combining technical ambition with emotional storytelling and a deep appreciation for the creative process. It seems like the kind of film that must be seen to be believed, yet even after watching it, the scale of its achievement remains difficult to grasp.
Wildwood premieres in theaters on Oct. 23, from Fathom Entertainment.
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