There’s a unique magic to stop-motion animation when it’s made with the care and precision that Laika brings to its work. That sense of wonder is at the heart of Wildwood. Adapted from the first book in Colin Meloy and Carson Ellis’s Wildwood Chronicles, the film finds director Travis Knight and Laika’s artists delivering a breathtakingly beautiful and unexpectedly dark fantasy adventure. It offers thrilling action, enchanted—and enchanting—natural landscapes, and talking woodland creatures who hold down jobs. And all of that comes before the characters even leave Portland for Wildwood. I’m Tom Jorgensson, and this is my review of Wildwood.
Some places in the world are not meant for people. Dark forests where the trees conceal even darker secrets. Wildwood is most striking in its scale. As the longest stop-motion animated film ever made, it lets Knight take his time building the mythology of Meloy and Ellis’s novels on screen. When 13-year-old Prue McKeel and her classmate Curtis set out into the magical forest realm of Wildwood to rescue Prue’s kidnapped baby brother, Mac, the film’s intricate network of societies, species, and systems becomes endlessly absorbing. Much of that is because of how gorgeous it all looks. Laika’s films consistently expand what stop-motion can do, and the astonishing artistry in Wildwood shows the studio doing it again. From a Portland rendered with intricate authenticity to every distinct region of the vast mystical forest, Wildwood’s devotion to fine detail feels bottomless.
For long stretches, the film is so immersive that it becomes easy to forget it is stop-motion at all. That achievement is even more impressive given the wide range of fantasy elements Wildwood uses. The nature-centered magic and anthropomorphic characters that Prue and Curtis encounter will feel familiar to anyone who loves portal fantasies such as Spirited Away, Labyrinth, or The Chronicles of Narnia, as well as Laika’s own Coraline. But Knight embraces the storytelling economy those archetypes provide with confidence. His “just go with it” approach to how much history he explains means some exposition flies by quickly, yet it rarely feels offensive, especially once the world feels so fully realized by the end. Throughout, the stakes remain high because Prue and Curtis’s actions trigger a rapidly escalating conflict once they enter the wilderness. Losses carry weight, setbacks have consequences, and people die—often enough that it can be surprising. At times, it’s startling to see how far Knight pushes material that might superficially look like a family-friendly romp. Nothing here reaches the hellish nightmare fuel of Phil Tippett’s R-rated Mad God, but Wildwood absolutely earns its PG-13 rating.
Even so, character motivation occasionally trips the film up. Wildwood’s world is fantastical and carefully conceived, but Prue sometimes gets lost in the shuffle. She is a very contemporary 13-year-old, irritated by her granola parents and crushed by the responsibility of losing her brother. That gives her plenty of weight to carry as the story demands more bravery and pluck from her. Peyton Elizabeth Lee’s vocal performance is energetic and dynamic enough to keep Prue likable, but the script rarely defines her by anything beyond the wrongs she is trying to make right. “My brother is in here somewhere, and I’m going to find him.” That may be intentional, perhaps to let younger viewers project themselves into her adventure. Still, it leaves Prue feeling less memorable than the world she travels through.
Curtis, a tabletop-RPG enthusiast who is still stuck on hot chocolate while his peers have moved on to coffee, follows an expected zero-to-hero arc, and Jacob Tremblay handles his comedic timing well. “Look, I banished myself into an orc. The Orc.” The story separates Curtis from Prue for much of the film, and the pacing tends to drag whenever it checks back in with him and the heroic bandits he meets in enemy territory. The record-breaking 131-minute runtime justifies itself from a purely visual perspective, but detours like this can make Wildwood feel a little long in the tooth.
Alexandra, the governess of the Southwood, grows her power within Wildwood. Her grief, stemming from the film’s shockingly macabre opening scene, drives her toward equally dark decisions. As written, Alexandra’s relationship with her grief is far more interesting and believable than her schemes to suppress it, but Carrie Mulligan’s quavering, edgy performance is a consistent highlight. “An outsider child. How beautiful you are.” Some late attempts are made to draw parallels between Alexandra and Prue’s parents, which could have made her an even more compelling antagonist, but those connections are not seeded firmly enough in the early scenes to feel satisfying later. Alexandra’s grief does, however, give Knight opportunities to create some of Wildwood’s most evocative imagery. Those gothic touches are a welcome contrast to the bright, teeming life that defines most of the movie’s visual identity.
What the main characters sometimes lack is more than compensated for by Wildwood’s excellent supporting roster of magical creatures and heroes. Mahershala Ali and Andy Samberg play badass bandits; Richard E. Grant voices an Owl King named Owl Rex; Tom Waits is a rage-filled coyote soldier; Charlie Day is a cowardly turncoat coyote soldier. From Angela Bassett’s giant eagle general to Awkwafina’s spunky rat Septima, the voice cast is central to Wildwood’s personality. “Scared of flying?” “I’m not usually on the outside of the plane.” The color these characters bring to the mix—especially the way the animal characters’ baser instincts peek through their personalities—does as much to create a sense of place as any sun-dappled valley or ivy-ridden ruin Prue and Curtis cross.
As Prue and Curtis try to outwit Alexandra’s forces, Wildwood’s action is breathlessly staged. The early kidnapping of baby Mac by a murder of Alexandra’s crows, and the chase that follows, hints at the gonzo camera work to come. Once the real world is in the rearview mirror, Knight draws from every corner of his meticulously populated frames to add surprising twists to fights or increase the danger of being caught or killed. He also has a judicious eye for when to lock the camera into grounded coverage and when to let it loose. All that excitement is effectively supported by composer Dario Marianelli’s score, a lively orchestral foundation that shifts between folk string arrangements and more modern guitar sounds depending on the environment. “I will tear apart this forest and bring back what it took from me.”
Wildwood is an arresting, exciting fantasy epic, made all the more impressive by the fact that its fully realized, thoughtful world is handmade and hand-animated. The craftsmanship on display from Laika and director Travis Knight in this story of grief and growing up is commendable, and the film’s enormous sense of scale and whimsy are constant pleasures. Wildwood’s ambitions are not always matched consistently by Prue, Curtis, and Alexandra’s individual stories amid all the visual splendor, especially given the movie’s length. But the emotional authenticity the voice cast brings—from the leads down to characters with only a few lines—does a great deal to make up for any shortcomings.