By Kris
Light spoilers: this review touches on the antagonist’s motivations without giving them away.
LAIKA Studios has crafted something extraordinary with Wildwood, a visually stunning, emotionally complex stop-motion adventure that ranks among my top three films of the year, alongside Project Hail Mary and The Odyssey.
From its opening five minutes, Wildwood establishes a noticeably darker, more mature tone than even LAIKA’s Coraline. The film is driven by emotionally rich characters, kinetic action sequences, and an intricate narrative that explores a deceptively simple question: What would you do for the people you love?
One of the film’s greatest strengths is its remarkable craftsmanship. LAIKA’s expertly constructed stop-motion models, elaborate sets, and meticulously detailed environments are breathtaking. The animation is so fluid that, at times, it almost becomes difficult to believe you’re watching stop-motion at all. Every character, creature, and environment feels deliberately realized, while the film’s lighting and visual composition lends its fantastical world an extraordinary sense of beauty and atmosphere. Wildwood is also notable as the longest theatrical stop-motion animated film, making its technical accomplishments even more impressive.
As an Oregonian, however, I found myself experiencing something beyond simple admiration. Wildwood is steeped in the landscapes, landmarks, and cultural identity of the Pacific Northwest, particularly the wilderness surrounding Portland. Mount Hood, Haystack Rock, the Columbia River Gorge, and the dramatic cliffs scattered throughout the Willamette Valley are woven into its visual language. So, too, are the more familiar details of Oregon life: Portland’s Saturday Market, independent coffee shops and bookstores, bike lanes, distinctive tree varieties, ivy, and the crows and ospreys competing within the film’s natural world.
Even Salem becomes an allegory for bureaucratic machinery, one of many clever interpretations of distinctly Oregonian institutions and sensibilities. These references make the film feel remarkably personal. There is something genuinely gratifying about seeing familiar places and cultural details transformed into fantasy. At times, though, I found myself distracted by just how many references I recognized, momentarily pulling me out of the story as I tried to identify another landmark or local detail.
The performances are equally impressive. The voice cast, including Mahershala Ali, Awkwafina, and Charlie Day, brings tremendous personality to an already memorable ensemble. Awkwafina’s Septima, in particular, delivers one of the film’s funniest moments: a wonderfully absurd lie told during a deathly serious scene. The contrast is hilarious, and the delivery makes it an instant highlight.
Yet humor never undermines the film’s emotional weight. Wildwood introduces a dark, loss-driven antagonist whose actions initially appear motivated by an overwhelming desire to reunite with a lost loved one. There is considerably more depth to this character than first impressions suggest, and the revelations surrounding their motivations add meaningful complexity to the story. The film understands that love, grief, and desperation can become difficult to separate, especially when someone believes they have nothing left to lose.
That emotional complexity is supported by surprisingly strong character development. The characters feel purposeful, their relationships matter, and even the film’s supporting figures contribute to the larger narrative. Combined with the relentless momentum of its most important sequences, the result is a story that feels both intimate and epic.
Wildwood succeeds on nearly every level: extraordinary stop-motion craftsmanship, fluid animation, beautiful scenery, expressive lighting, a superb voice cast, and a narrative that balances spectacle with genuine emotional substance. Its world is rich enough to receive close attention, even if that abundance of detail occasionally becomes a distraction.
For me, Wildwood is both an exceptional piece of animation and a heartfelt celebration of Oregon’s landscapes, culture, and peculiarities. It is an ambitious, visually unforgettable, and emotionally resonant film that reminds us how far animation can go when artistry and storytelling are given room to flourish.
Verdict: One of the year’s best films, and an especially rewarding experience for anyone who calls Oregon home.
Final Rank: S
Cinema Ranked is a community series. These are Kris’s own opinions, not Get Dangerous Games’ or the Shadows RPG crew’s.