Wildwood

There is rarely cause to compare director (and Laika CEO) Travis Knight to Pixar legend Andrew Stanton. As stellar as Knight's sole animated directorial effort is, it cannot hold a candle to the cultural impact of Stanton's first two, nor the box office receipts of even his most forgettable. His work is made all the more impressive by their revered status amongst even the beloved and prolific output of Pixar; while Laika is similarly adored, the time and effort required to realize their admirable ambition within an inherently time intensive art form means Wildwood is just their seventh film in twenty years.

However, 2026 sees a parallel between the two men that implies Knight may just be a time shifted version of Stanton. Both have also shown interest in live-action, and each has two films out this year, one live-action and one animated. The fact is that neither live-action film is any good, although summer tentpole Masters of the Universe was a far more high profile bomb, with misfiring big swing In the Blink of an Eye quietly limping out on Hulu in February. Stanton cleared the air with the perfectly acceptable if uninspired Toy Story 5, which is one of the highest grossing films of the year. Knight's flop follow up is a far riskier bet, a dark fantasy film with intricate lore and showstopping battle sequences, its ethereal beauty offset by the type of nasty, fantastical world missing from the movies as of late. It's been decades since Stanton has truly impressed, while Knight feels like he's just getting started.

Laika's first film in seven years begins with a jolt, a declaration that stop motion can be used to tell mature, harrowing tales, despite its common confinement to children's movies and shows (including their own efforts). The vignette is revealed to be a story passed from a father (Jake Johnson) to his teenage daughter, Prue (Peyton Elizabeth Lee), but delivered as if a recitation of history, further emphasized by its setting on the fringes of their (and Laika's) home of Portland, Oregon. As Prue carts her baby brother Mac (adorably voiced by the director's two-year-old son, Arthur Knight) around the city, its strangeness and iconic scenery equally astonishingly well realized, they're joined by Curtis (Jacob Tremblay), a well-meaning goofball with an unmistakable crush on his classmate. While he distracts Prue just long enough for Mac to be carried off by an uncomfrtoable large murder of crows (in a far more appropriate and better executed homage to The Birds than Eli Roth's recent attempt), she'll almost certainly require his help in order to retrieve him from the Impassable Wilderness and the menacing dowager governess, Alexandra (Carey Mulligan).

Knight previously demonstrated his fantasy bent with Kubo and the Two Strings, so it makes sense that Wildwood has more in common with Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia than the horror-adjacent fare the studio is known for. Despite arguably still the best looking of their output (a testament to its stunning level of craft and creativity rather than a slight on the other films), Kubo was prevented from achieving masterpiece status by a lack of confidence in the audience. Far too many emotional, heavy moments were undercut with a joke more becoming of Kuzco than a samurai adventure.

But Knight and screenwriter Chris Butler, responsible for the majority of Laika's features (along with some other movies), have grown in the intervening years. They achieve a near-perfect balance of the dire stakes with natural humor and jokes born of discomfort, never allowing your laughter to get in the way of the tense drama. The plot is fairly recognizable, including a setup reminiscent of Labyrinth, and centers around Prue's desperate search through various animal societies for those who can aid in her brother's safe return. She ventures through various kingdoms inhabited by different groups of animals united by biology and outlook. Each one brings with it new menace, even if only for a moment before they agree to help. The sight of coyotes in redcoats is as unsubtle as it is frightening, especially once their allegiances come into view. The volume of birds is alarming, especially as so many are oversized birds of prey, despite their kind if forceful wisdom (the crows broke away in revolt and ended up serving another master, hence their aggressive conduct from earlier). Interestingly, Alexandra is not the only human, not by a long shot, which treats us to the wonderful characterization of various tribes with conflicting outlooks. This huge ensemble is filled out with actors of varying levels of notoriety (from Mahershala Ali to Awkwafina, from Angela Bassett to Tantoo Cardinal, and many more), but no one falters for even a second, resulting an incredibly lively world populated by tremendous diversity. Combined with the stellar script and Laika's characteristic otherworldly character design, even the few standard archetypes are elevated above that simple designation.

While the story does not lack for emotional gut-punches, including an all is lost moment that evoked a distressed whisper of "No..." under my breath, it can't live up to the power and intimacy of either Kubo or Coraline. However, it more than makes up for that in the sheer scale and intensity of the final act, a grand and visceral battle sequence complete with side action, calling to mind the Battle of Helms Deep. It's truly mind-boggling to think about the amount of time and effort and precision that went into animating the staggering amount of figures stretching across the battlefield, each frame requiring them all to be adjusted just the right amount. The result is as seamless as can be achieved by hand, the slight imperfections adding to the tactile reality of the human touch, a kind of magic trick that would be almost unbelievable if Laika hadn't pulled it off so many times before. And yet, somehow, they find another gear come the apex of the battle, an explosion of the power of nature and our connection to it that will truly knock your socks off.

It's all wonderfully emblematic of the concerns at the core of Wildwood. The mystery and treasures that lie just next door; the importance of holding on to your sense of wonder; and a world so full of beauty that deserves all of us to fight like hell for what matters, despite its unmistakable imperfections and the punishing waves of hopelessness that threaten to overtake us all. The stunning cinematography from Caleb Deschanel makes it all feel so much more real and urgent, as if you could reach through the screen to experience their existence. Every single person on the team are at the top of their game, culminating in a film that manages to outshine all of their previous work, and easily land amongst the best of the year.