This film amazes, captivates and surprises on countless levels.
Chris Butler’s script — lovingly adapted from the 2011 illustrated fantasy novel by Colin Meloy and Carson Ellis — is a touch of L. Frank Baum by way of J.R.R. Tolkien. The 13-year-old protagonists face all manner of good and evil magical characters, some of them not what they initially seem, with everyone engaged in what becomes an ultimate battle that can leave only one side standing.
All that said, this film’s true magic involves the way it was created. It comes from Laika, the Portland, Oregon-based stop-motion animation studio that previously brought us — among others — Coraline, The Boxtrolls and Kubo and the Two Strings. Enchanting as those were, Wildwood overshadows them in terms of ambition and complexity.
As they initially enter the Impassable Wilderness — known by its inhabitants as
Wildwood — Prue and Curtis are astonished by the enormity of its forests. Sadly,
they'll soon be too scared to appreciate all this splendor...
At 130 minutes, this is by far the longest stop-motion “replacement animation” film ever made. Many live-action production and special-effects teams have achieved astonishing levels of world-building, but this film is on an entirely different scale ... and all in miniature. Director Travis Knight focused on this project for 16 years (!), and then — starting in 2021 — oversaw and orchestrated a 231-week production schedule that used 136 hand-crafted sets and 236 (!!!) puppets.
Love is the only word to describe what motivated the army of puppeteers who painstakingly brought everything to life.
The stunning result is impressively lifelike and “real,” but the story remains the most powerful element. You’ll quickly become emotionally invested in these characters.
Knight and Butler open with a somber, mildly sinister prologue set Somewhere Else: an early indication that this saga will have teeth.
Events then begin on an ordinary day, when Portland-based Prue McKeel (voiced by Peyton Elizabeth Lee) questions — likely for the umpteenth time — why her parents (Jake Johnson and Maya Erskine) insist that the girl’s baby brother, Mac, must never be taken outside to play. Alas, when Mom and Dad leave for the day, Prue brings Mac along for a playful tour of the city, the infant happily jouncing in a small wagon attached to the girl’s bicycle.
Anybody who has visited or lived in Portland will love this buoyant montage, as the duo passes numerous iconic landmarks and individuals such as — among many others — Powell’s Bookstore, Voodoo Donuts and the legendary bagpipe unicycler. After stopping at a park, Prue bumps into classmate Curtis Mehlberg (Jacob Tremblay), a shy and socially awkward misfit obsessed with role-playing games, who has no idea how to reveal his crush on her.
But tween angst vanishes abruptly, when — starting with a nod to Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds — Mac suddenly is snatched by a massive murder of crows.
Prue frantically gives chase, Curtis hanging on for dear life in the wagon. Their chaotic, pell-mell pursuit ultimately leads them to the Impassable Wilderness at the edge of town: the one place Prue’s parents have warned her never, everto venture.
Entry ordinarily isn’t even possible for “outsiders” ... and yet the foliage parts, allowing Prue and Curtis to continue their pursuit. But they’re quickly attacked by a squad of vicious, red-coated, weapons-bearing coyotes. Curtis allows himself to be captured, enabling Prue’s escape.
Thanks to a lift from a human postmaster (Len Cariou), Prue is brought to the community of South Wood, where humans and anthropomorphized animals and birds live together peacefully ... or so it seems. Alas, Prue has escaped the frying pan only to jump into the fire; the Governor Regent (Marc Evan Jackson), from whom she expected help, instead imprisons her.
Curtis, meanwhile, has been taken to the coyotes’ leader: the Dowager Governess Alexandra (Carey Mulligan). The earlier prologue now becomes clear: Alexandra, having lost her only son long ago, now is dangerously consumed by grief and rage. She frequently conflates Curtis with her dead son, and makes him a member of her coyote guard ... an “honor” that initially delights the naïve lad, until the implications set in.
More crucially, Alexandra is preparing for a final war against the benevolent forest communities — whom she despises as “bandits” — which are unwilling to allow their ancestral land to be taken away.
And we’re just getting started...
The story expands to include numerous key characters:
• The General (Angela Bassett), a giant golden eagle who becomes Prue’s first benevolent guide;
• Owl Rex (Richard E. Grant), a wise old bird, formerly Crown Prince of the Avian Principality, who answers many of Prue’s question;
• Maksim (Tom Waits), the vicious lead soldier of Alexandra’s coyote army;
• Iphigenia (Tantoo Cardinal), a North Woods mystic;
• Brendan (Mahershala Ali), the imposing Bandit King, and leader of the forest folks’ revolt;
• Niamh (Amandla Stenberg), one of the Bandit King’s scrappiest followers;
• Septima (Awkwafina), a clever rat in league with the bandits, who befriends Curtis; and
• Dimitri (Charlie Day), a misfit coyote discharged from Alexandra’s army, having shirked his duties too many times.
All of the voice talent is excellent, with each character granted impressive emotional depth.
As events become ever more grim, Awkwafina and Day offer occasional doses of welcome comic relief.
The many action sequences are breathtaking, some enhanced with visual effects: Prue and Curtis’ initial frantic pursuit of the crows; Prue’s exciting ride on The General’s winged back; numerous wilderness chases involving the coyotes; and, well, the entire third act.
(Parents, be advised: This film earns its PG-13 rating. Bad things happen to good characters.)
Dario Marianelli’s energetic orchestral score is supplemented by several songs by Meloy, who — when not writing fantasy fiction — is a musician and singer/songwriter best known as frontman for the Portland-based indie folk/rock band, The Decemberists. And yes, two of the aforementioned songs are performed by his band.
On a smaller note, Laika’s films always have the best end credits sequences — including a brief glimpse of the painstaking effort involved, in creating a single short scene — and you’ll want to hang around until the last person is thanked.
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