Laika Studios Brings a Story of Love, Grief, and Forgiveness to Life with ‘Wildwood’ (2026)

Written by Camryn Carmichael. Photographs by Miha Palancha.

Fans of the iconic LAIKA Studios left nothing to chance when it came to securing their spot in line at Lucas Theater on Oct. 25. The iconic studio that brought us the stop motion classics “Coraline” (2009), “Paranorman” (2012), and “Kubo and the Two Strings” (2016) had just released their latest film: “Wildwood”—and they left nothing to chance, with the earliest attendees lining up as early as 3:00 a.m. for the 9:00 a.m, screening.

The eager buzz from the line wrapped around the theater reached a fever-pitch. The half hour leading up to showtime was a mad dash between the best seats, the best snacks, and the bathrooms. But after everyone settled, and a few opening remarks, the lights dimmed, and the “WILDWOOD” title card appeared like a beacon in the dark. The crowd had no choice but to erupt. We cheered for the film, for the nostalgia, and for the sixteen-year labor of love.

Opening on a dark and stormy night, the first scenes of the film give us a glimpse into the sad backstory of a young prince named Alexei who makes an even darker discovery. Little did we know, these few minutes only scratched the surface, and nothing was as it seemed.

Without dawdling, the film shifts to the cloudy skies of Oregon and into the home of the main character: Curtis. Whose father uses Alexei’s story as cautionary tale for her infant brother Mac. That afternoon, Prue is saddled with babysitting her young sibling and given an important rule: Mac is not to leave the house—under any circumstances. But like any spunky young teen with a bike and an attitude, she and Mac abscond to a quaint downtown coffeeshop where we meet Curtis, an awkward kid who goes to the same school as Prue and desperately wants to be her friend. 

Unable to shake Curtis—despite her efforts—the three walk to a nearby park where Mack runs off to play. But when the two get distracted, one of them notices something strange: crows…everywhere. As they close in on her baby brother, Prue runs to save him, but these birds swarm them in hundreds. And before they know it, Mac is several stories in the air and being flown out of sight. Together, Prue and Curtis race back through town after the flock, but by the time they catch up, the crows have disappeared over the infamous Impassable Wilderness. 

As Prue and Curtis give chase into the wooded labyrinth of ivy and secrets, they’re thrusted into a magical new world that separates them by force, sending them on vastly different journeys. Without giving too much away, through imprisonment and fiery battles, Curtis will learn that friends can be made in the unlikeliest of places with the unlikeliest creatures and give us the strength to become someone beyond what we ever thought possible. But through Prue’s journey, we see the power of an older sister’s unconditional love, and the importance of forgiveness for past wrongs done by strangers and loved ones alike.

The most enthralling element of this film, however, never ceased to be the medium itself: stopmotion claymation. Every few minutes it would occur to me that every strand of hair caught in the breeze, every car driving down the street, every hot-chocolate spilled (if you know, you know) were brought to life by hand with painstaking passion. While the sheer amount of man hours that go into such large projects was no surprise, the extent which the team worked to maintain continuity on every possible level was nothing short of awe-inspiring—especially the fiery battle scene that takes place toward the end.

According to director and LAIKA Studios CEO Travis Knight, “I knew it was going to be one of the most challenging things we had ever done because it is a combination of every single technique that we use. It’s stop motion, practical effects, digital effects, it’s visual effects—it’s all these things blended together.”

To add to the crowd’s astonishment, the director also revealed the entire scene was storyboarded almost entirely by the same person: the exceptional artist and craftsman, Oliver Thomas.

“This is a very, very, special artform,” said Knight. “It wears its humanity openly. It’s one of the reasons I think it deserves to stay alive.”

At its core, “Wildwood” is a story about the power of loss, love, empathy, and healing. A testament to author Colin Meloy’s elaborate, impeccable worldbuilding, Knight’s adaptation of the novel came to be because it left him with a feeling that “stuck under his ribs” that he just couldn’t shake. Thus he embarked on a journey that would take the studio over a decade. For the thriving stop-motion community, this project was well worth the wait.

“We’ve really tried to keep the art form alive for 20 years now,” said Knight. “It’s never going to be the most popular form of filmmaking, and I really, firmly, believe that art needs advocacy—it needs champions.”

This sentiment was echoed in the form of rapturous cheers from the audience. As fellow creatives, it was both comforting and empowering to hear our rallying cry from the mouth of an industry giant. Especially considering the box office earnings of “Wildwood” were far lower than anticipated during the film’s opening week, though Knight remained steadfast in his love for his craft and all man-made art.

“There is something very special about human artistry, human creativity, and human effort, and that’s demonstrated in no better way than in stop motion,” he said. “Which is why we continue to push against the tide of the infernal machine (which is trying to take over our lives) and say, ‘No, there is something that matters about the human touch, and we have to hold onto it.’”