Wendell & Wild
It begins with an emotional blow. Kat has barely been introduced before her life is defined by a loss that will shape almost everything that follows. That opening immediately explains why Wendell & Wild, despite being a fantasy full of demons, jokes and impossible creatures, never completely loses its underlying sadness.
Henry Selick returns to stop motion with a film that feels unmistakably his almost from the first image. There is the fascination with the macabre, characters with impossible bodies, spaces that resemble childhood nightmares and that peculiar coexistence between the disturbing and the funny. Coraline inevitably comes to mind, but the comparison also reveals the differences. That film was cleaner and more precise in its storytelling; this one is noisier, more chaotic and packed with far more ideas.
Visually, however, I find it extraordinary.
It is difficult to watch something like this without constantly thinking about the work behind it. Every gesture, expression, piece of clothing, prop and creature had to exist physically in front of a camera and be manipulated frame by frame. At a time when much animation tries to erase any visible trace of its process, this film does the opposite. The textures, materials and tiny imperfections are part of its beauty.
That craftsmanship is not simply a technical curiosity either. The form perfectly suits Kat's world. Everything looks slightly crooked, exaggerated, imperfect and alive. Faces are angular, proportions are distorted, and the world of the dead can be more colourful and absurd than the world of the living is grey and oppressive. Production design often communicates as much as dialogue.
Kat also works very well as the centre of the story. Her confrontational appearance and defensive attitude hide a burden of guilt that explains much of her behaviour. She is not designed to be instantly adorable. She can be angry, difficult and emotionally closed, which ultimately makes her more interesting.
Wendell and Wild provide the comic counterweight. The reunion of Keegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele works because the two demons are ridiculous, ambitious and frequently incompetent without ever feeling completely malicious. Their strange, unruly energy prevents the film from becoming trapped in Kat's melancholy.
The main problem is that Selick and Peele try to fit an enormous amount into the story. Grief, guilt, friendship, identity, corporate corruption, prisons, community, family, demons and resurrection all compete for space in less than two hours. Professional reviews were divided on precisely this point: some celebrated the ambition while others argued that the narrative flies in too many directions.
I sit somewhere between those reactions. The abundance gives the film personality, but it also prevents some ideas from breathing. There are moments when the plot seems to hurry simply because another subject is waiting, and several characters feel as though they could have been developed much further.
Even so, I find it difficult to criticise a film this imaginative too harshly. Whenever the narrative becomes overloaded, another design, creature, musical choice or visual gag appears and immediately makes the world interesting again.
That may be what I value most about it. It does not feel manufactured from a template. It may be imperfect and messy, but its identity is unmistakable. In an increasingly homogenised landscape of animation, something this handmade and strange feels genuinely refreshing.
For me, it never reaches the magic or narrative precision of Coraline, but it does not need to exist only in that film's shadow. Wendell & Wild has its own personality, a strong central character, dark humour, interesting ideas and astonishing visual craftsmanship.
I had a very good time with it. And the more I thought about how it was made, the more impressive it became.
Henry Selick returns to stop motion with a film that feels unmistakably his almost from the first image. There is the fascination with the macabre, characters with impossible bodies, spaces that resemble childhood nightmares and that peculiar coexistence between the disturbing and the funny. Coraline inevitably comes to mind, but the comparison also reveals the differences. That film was cleaner and more precise in its storytelling; this one is noisier, more chaotic and packed with far more ideas.
Visually, however, I find it extraordinary.
It is difficult to watch something like this without constantly thinking about the work behind it. Every gesture, expression, piece of clothing, prop and creature had to exist physically in front of a camera and be manipulated frame by frame. At a time when much animation tries to erase any visible trace of its process, this film does the opposite. The textures, materials and tiny imperfections are part of its beauty.
That craftsmanship is not simply a technical curiosity either. The form perfectly suits Kat's world. Everything looks slightly crooked, exaggerated, imperfect and alive. Faces are angular, proportions are distorted, and the world of the dead can be more colourful and absurd than the world of the living is grey and oppressive. Production design often communicates as much as dialogue.
Kat also works very well as the centre of the story. Her confrontational appearance and defensive attitude hide a burden of guilt that explains much of her behaviour. She is not designed to be instantly adorable. She can be angry, difficult and emotionally closed, which ultimately makes her more interesting.
Wendell and Wild provide the comic counterweight. The reunion of Keegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele works because the two demons are ridiculous, ambitious and frequently incompetent without ever feeling completely malicious. Their strange, unruly energy prevents the film from becoming trapped in Kat's melancholy.
The main problem is that Selick and Peele try to fit an enormous amount into the story. Grief, guilt, friendship, identity, corporate corruption, prisons, community, family, demons and resurrection all compete for space in less than two hours. Professional reviews were divided on precisely this point: some celebrated the ambition while others argued that the narrative flies in too many directions.
I sit somewhere between those reactions. The abundance gives the film personality, but it also prevents some ideas from breathing. There are moments when the plot seems to hurry simply because another subject is waiting, and several characters feel as though they could have been developed much further.
Even so, I find it difficult to criticise a film this imaginative too harshly. Whenever the narrative becomes overloaded, another design, creature, musical choice or visual gag appears and immediately makes the world interesting again.
That may be what I value most about it. It does not feel manufactured from a template. It may be imperfect and messy, but its identity is unmistakable. In an increasingly homogenised landscape of animation, something this handmade and strange feels genuinely refreshing.
For me, it never reaches the magic or narrative precision of Coraline, but it does not need to exist only in that film's shadow. Wendell & Wild has its own personality, a strong central character, dark humour, interesting ideas and astonishing visual craftsmanship.
I had a very good time with it. And the more I thought about how it was made, the more impressive it became.
Mini Review: It begins with an emotional blow. Kat has barely been introduced before her life is defined by a loss that will shape almost everything that follows. That opening immediately explains why Wendell & Wild, despite being a fantasy full of demons, jokes and impossible creatures, never completely loses its underlying sadness. Henry Selick returns to stop motion with a film that feels unmistakably his almost from the first image. There is the...
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