Wildwood — A Spellbinding Handmade Fantasy That Gets Lost in Its Own Wilderness

There is something almost rebellious about Wildwood. In an era when animation is increasingly shaped by digital tools and streamlined production, Laika returns with a sprawling stop-motion adventure that celebrates the beauty of things made by hand. Directed by Travis Knight, the film is an ambitious fantasy filled with enchanted forests, talking animals, dangerous villains and the sort of imaginative details that make you want to pause just to take everything in.

Based on Colin Meloy’s novel, Wildwood follows Prue McKeel, a headstrong teenager whose ordinary life in Portland, Oregon, is shattered when a murder of crows abducts her baby brother, Mac. Refusing to accept that he is gone, Prue ventures into the mysterious Impassable Wilderness with Curtis, an awkward but loyal classmate. Beyond the forest lies a hidden world of strange creatures, rival factions and powerful figures whose ambitions threaten far more than one family.

It is a familiar fantasy setup, but the film finds plenty of room to make the journey feel distinctive. Prue is not a chosen hero who begins her adventure with special powers or an understanding of the world she is entering. She is a frightened young person who refuses to give up on someone she loves. Her determination becomes the driving force behind a story that grows steadily larger, eventually placing the fate of the wilderness itself in her hands.

The emotional simplicity of that motivation is one of the film's greatest strengths. Prue does not need an elaborate prophecy to justify her journey. She needs to find her brother, and everything else follows from that decision. Peyton Elizabeth Lee gives the character a convincing mixture of courage, frustration and vulnerability, ensuring that Prue remains recognisable even when the situations around her become increasingly fantastical.

Jacob Tremblay is equally effective as Curtis. Initially less confident than his companion, Curtis brings a nervous energy that provides both humour and an appealing counterpoint to Prue's determination. Their friendship develops through shared danger rather than sentimental declarations, making their partnership feel earned. Neither character is entirely fearless, and the moments when they struggle to keep going give the adventure some welcome emotional texture.

Yet the real star of Wildwood is its animation.

Laika, the studio behind Coraline, ParaNorman and Kubo and the Two Strings, has built its reputation on stop-motion filmmaking that feels tactile, atmospheric and occasionally unsettling. Here, that craft reaches an extraordinary scale. The forest seems to breathe, the creatures possess distinct physical personalities, and the environments are packed with details that reward attention. Fabric, foliage, weathered buildings and miniature landscapes all contribute to a world that feels physically present rather than digitally assembled.

Caleb Deschanel's cinematography makes remarkable use of that craftsmanship. The camera moves through the film's miniature environments with the confidence of a live-action fantasy epic, capturing both the grandeur of the wilderness and the peculiar details hidden within it. Some shots are so carefully composed that they resemble illustrations brought to life, while others use movement and perspective to make the landscapes feel unexpectedly vast.

The result is more than a technical showcase. Stop-motion animation gives Wildwood a distinctive physicality that suits its themes. The forest is not simply a backdrop for the characters' adventures; it feels like a place with its own history, rhythms and dangers. Leaves, branches and animal movements possess a weight that can be difficult to replicate through other forms of animation. The world feels handmade because it is, and that quality gives even its most fantastical moments a surprising sense of reality.

The creature design is another highlight. Talking animals could easily become a parade of amusing side characters, but the film gives many of them striking silhouettes and personalities. Some are funny, others intimidating, and a few are genuinely unsettling. The wilderness is not a cosy storybook retreat where every creature exists to help the heroes. It is a complicated ecosystem populated by individuals with competing loyalties and interests.

That darker quality is especially apparent in Carey Mulligan's performance as Alexandra, a powerful and deeply troubled figure whose grief has hardened into something dangerous. Mulligan gives the character an unsettling mixture of authority and vulnerability. Alexandra is an antagonist, but the film is more interesting when it allows viewers to understand the pain behind her actions without excusing the damage she causes.

Mahershala Ali also lends considerable presence to Brenden, while Angela Bassett, Awkwafina, Charlie Day and Tom Waits contribute memorable voices to the expansive ensemble. The cast gives the woodland inhabitants enough personality to prevent the film from becoming visually impressive but emotionally empty. Even when a character appears briefly, the vocal performance often supplies a sense of history beyond what the screenplay has time to explain.

Unfortunately, time is precisely where Wildwood begins to struggle.

Running for well over two hours, the film attempts to accommodate an enormous amount of mythology, political conflict, character history and fantasy adventure. Its ambition is admirable, but the storytelling does not always keep pace with the richness of its world. New characters and factions arrive with impressive frequency, each bringing another piece of lore or another complication to the central quest.

At first, the constant discoveries create a sense of excitement. The wilderness seems capable of revealing something unexpected around every corner. Eventually, however, the accumulation becomes exhausting. Just as one conflict begins to gain emotional significance, the film introduces another development that demands attention. Some transitions feel abrupt, while certain explanations arrive so quickly that their importance is difficult to absorb.

This is particularly frustrating because the world-building is so good. The film has created a setting worth exploring, yet it sometimes rushes past its most interesting corners. A little more patience would have allowed several relationships to develop more naturally and given the central themes greater emotional weight.

The fantasy narrative itself is not especially original. The influence of The Chronicles of Narnia, Alice in Wonderland and other classic journeys into hidden worlds is easy to recognise. There are familiar elements involving a young protagonist, a mysterious kingdom, an imposing villain and a struggle over the future of a magical land. The film occasionally leans too heavily on these conventions rather than finding a fresh direction for them.

Still, familiarity is not automatically a flaw. The best fantasy stories often draw strength from recognisable structures, and Wildwood has enough imagination in its execution to make many of its familiar elements enjoyable. Its problem is less that it borrows from other works than that its increasingly complicated mythology sometimes distracts from the emotional simplicity that made the adventure appealing in the first place.

The action sequences provide some compensation. Aerial chases, dangerous encounters and large-scale battles demonstrate how effectively stop-motion can handle movement and spectacle. The climactic conflict has a scale rarely attempted in this form of animation, and the filmmakers deserve credit for committing to such an ambitious undertaking. These scenes are visually impressive without completely abandoning the tactile quality that defines the film.

The darker material also deserves attention. Although Wildwood centres on young protagonists, it is not a gentle fantasy designed exclusively for small children. Violence, disturbing imagery, grief and more mature themes give the story an edge that may make it unsuitable for some younger viewers. Parents should check the film's rating and content guidance before deciding whether it is appropriate for their family.

Beneath the adventure, the film offers a thoughtful perspective on grief, courage and humanity's relationship with nature. The wilderness is beautiful, but it is not safe or entirely benevolent. Its inhabitants experience loss, make destructive choices and struggle with the temptation to control circumstances that cannot always be controlled. Prue's journey gradually becomes a lesson in understanding that love can demand courage without granting anyone the power to fix everything.

There is also something fitting about a film so devoted to handmade artistry arriving in a world increasingly fascinated by automation. Wildwood asks viewers to appreciate the tangible and the imperfect: the physical world, the creatures that inhabit it and the value of things that cannot be reduced to efficiency. Its own production embodies that philosophy. Every puppet, set and carefully constructed movement reflects an enormous investment of time and human effort.

Ultimately, Wildwood is a remarkable achievement in animation wrapped around a somewhat overburdened fantasy story. Travis Knight and his team have created a world that is beautiful, strange and occasionally frightening, while Lee and Tremblay give the adventure a warm emotional centre. The film's sprawling mythology and uneven pacing prevent it from reaching the heights of Laika's very best work, but its visual imagination remains difficult to resist.

There are stretches when Wildwood feels as though it is trying to tell several different stories at once. Yet even when the narrative loses its way, the artistry rarely does. The film may not completely conquer its own wilderness, but wandering through it is still an experience worth having.

Rating: 4/5

Do you like it? Let's share it!