Wildwood (2026) Review
Before my screening of Laika Studio’s newest stop-motion masterpiece, there was a hideous, fully AI-generated Fanta commercial. It was a sobering reminder of how rare this kind of painstaking craftsmanship has always been, but increasingly so in our digitized modern age. Sixteen years in the making, the film follows Prue and her classmate, Curtis, into a magical forest in search of her kidnapped brother, only to get caught in the middle of a civil war between talking birds, witches, and magical ivy. Part coming-of-age, part war epic, and part family drama, this script is overloaded, sometimes to a fault. But despite the story struggling under the weight of its adaptation, Wildwood remains one of the most stunning films this year. It is easily the most ambitious film to ever use the stop-motion medium, and I think there is more riding on the success of this movie than one might initially think.
Of all the films in Laika’s filmography, only Coraline (2009) has ever turned a profit. The studio’s dedication to keeping this medium alive, then, can’t be attributed to box office returns. CEO Travis Knight has spoken at length about the company’s mission to make art, not money, and has drawn on his family’s vast wealth to support the studio; but that doesn’t mean every loss is inconsequential. Laika’s commitment to human artistry has given the studio a distinctive voice in an industry largely dominated by franchises and sequels. With so much time, effort, and resources invested in Wildwood, one can only imagine how meaningful its success would be not just to the studio, but to filmmaking as a whole, despite the flaws of its script.
Chris Butler’s writing does an efficient job of introducing us to the characters and their world, but by the time credits roll, one can’t help feeling that enormous parts of their respective arcs were glossed over. Colin Meloy and Carson Ellis’ 2011 novel runs over 500 pages, so it’s understandable that a film barely exceeding two hours would struggle to accommodate so much story. Prue is unconvinced by her hippie parents’ love of nature, making her eventual ability to communicate with magical vines a fitting development, but we barely see her overcome anything on a personal level in order for that change to feel earned. Similarly, Curtis goes from being a demure wallflower to a young man clearly disturbed by having to kill someone on the battlefield, yet the film never meaningfully interrogates his trauma or how the war alters his sense of self. By the film’s end, both he and Prue have killed someone, but the plot never slows down to explore what that means for them both on a human level. Instead, we see them swapping stories as they walk out of the forest smiling and laughing, which feels woefully inadequate in addressing the weight of the more mature themes the film attempts to tackle. There’s also a plot twist that feels like it should complicate things a lot more than it does. The war itself fares little better. We barely get a sense of how having their homelands stolen by an aggressor has affected the bandits, or what resistance means for the people of North and South Wood. In times like these, I think these themes deserved more room to breathe, even if the images are rendered so stunningly.
Seeing AI’s rise shift several industries in real time, along with the recent Skydance merger, makes me really appreciate this handmade, original story even more. But beyond its contextual importance, Wildwood is one of the greatest feats the stop-motion medium has ever seen. Its world feels so fully realized, and there are so many elaborate crowd shots, gorgeous camera movements, and intricate uses of focus that I genuinely cannot wrap my mind around how Laika’s animators pulled it all off. With over 140,000 faces created for more than 200 puppets, the sheer scale of this production is unprecedented, making for one of the most immersive theatrical experiences this year. The film also makes wonderful use of warm lighting, which contrasts with the more restrained palette used in battle scenes. It’s a remarkable achievement, one that captures both the wonders of childhood and the horrors of growing up in times of war.
I wish I could tell you this is a perfect movie, but perfection is an impossible standard, and perhaps an unfair one for a two-hour stop-motion war epic facing the immense challenges of both production and distribution. Instead, I’m grateful that we still live in a time when art like this can exist. At one point, Prue is biking through her city and passes a puppet modeled after the book’s illustrator, Carson Ellis, selling paintings beside a sign that reads, ‘Enjoy handmade art before it’s gone.’ I couldn’t agree more. Wildwood is now in theaters, and if you love movies, I think you’ll find plenty to love here.
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