While stop motion animation was once the leading source of special effects for movies ranging from Rudolph to Terminator, the advent of CGI has decimated the field. In fact, the only two noteworthy stop motion films have been given wide release in the past nine years were The Corpse Bride and Wallace & Gromit. Now, however, one of the medium’s most well-known auteurs, Henry Selick (Nightmare Before Christmas), is returning with a new film, Coraline. The question, then, is whether or not Selick can recapture his earlier genius.
In the past, Selick’s visual brilliance has been compromised by some questionable choices regarding his subject matter (see Monkeybone; or, rather, for the love of God don’t see Monkeybone). Coraline is based on the 2002 novel written by popular graphic novelist, Neil Gaiman. Fortunately the director has finally found a story worthy of his unique aesthetic in Gaiman’s novel. Coraline is an 11-year-old girl who goes through a hole in the wall to discover a strange version of her world, where everybody and everything seems created solely to appeal to her. As is so often the case with dream worlds, however, things quickly take a turn for the worse, and our heroine is stuck trying to save her real parents, and herself, from the deadly Other Mother.
As you might guess from the description, Coraline is quite a bit darker than it might seem at first glance. Make no mistake: this is, first and foremost, a horror film. That might seem obvious when one considers that a major plot point involves sewing buttons into one’s eyes, but even that’s tame compared to some of the imagery in the third act. This may be a children’s movie, but it’s still far darker, visually and thematically, than even such past morbidities as The Nightmare Before Christmas.
On the topic of the film’s appearance, I might as well state the obvious now: it’s gorgeous. In fact, Coraline is easily one of the best-looking films of the decade. Selick’s mastery of stop-motion is in full display here, and the animation is so elegant that one could easily mistake it for CGI. What’s more, the same sense of design that made The Nightmare Before Christmas so memorable is on full display here. Coraline’s world is a surreal work of art that’s equally effective as a paradise or as a nightmare. Nor is the population of this world any less interesting; virtually every character is beautifully sculpted, and their interactions and set pieces are uniformly brilliant.
The characters are well supportedby the voice work. Dakota Fanning is capable as the title character, although John Hodgman is underutilized in his role as Coraline’s father. Easily the strongest performance is Teri Hatcher as Coraline’s Other Mother (as well as her real-world counterpart)—she manages to convey the combination of “love” and menace necessary to make the character function. Meanwhile, Ian McShane and Keith David steal the spotlight as a Russian mouse-trainer and a helpful feline, respectively. In addition to the solid voice work, Coraline also features an outstanding score by Bruno Coulais. The French composer manages to combine whimsy and dread without ever ripping off Danny Elfman, a feat that’s surprisingly rare in modern film.
In spite of all this praise, it must be said that Coraline isn’t quite perfect. The plot, while good, occasionally finds itself wandering. In particular, a third-act Macguffin feels more like a video-game fetch-quest than something that belongs in a film proper. Likewise, the addition of an annoying sidekick character in the form of Coraline’s neighbor, Wieby, somewhat weakens the story’s atmosphere by lessening the sense of isolation.
If these flaws sound minor to you, however, that’s because they are minor. As a general rule, Coraline looks amazing, sounds amazing, and frankly is amazing. Coraline is a masterpiece of a film, and evidence that maybe stop-motion animation isn’t as dead as it appears.
Best animated film since Wall-E. A true work of art, and well worth seeing in theaters.
