The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Coraline (2009), directed by Henry Selick

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: 'She's An Angel' by They Might Be Giants

       I’ve talked before about how Tim Burton gets all of the credit for The Nightmare Before Christmas in spite of being the producer, and how the director Henry Selick deserves some more recognition and respect. Unfortunately I wrote that in the review of Monkeybone, which isn’t exactly the greatest example of filmmaking acumen in the world. But this is a new year, a new Marathon, so why not give him another shot at blogging glory?

       Released in 2009, Coraline was directed by Henry Selick, written by Selick, and produced by Selick, Bill Mechanic, Claire Jennings, and Mary Sandell through Laika and Pandemonium Films, based on the novel by Neil Gaiman. Dakota Fanning provides the voice of the titular Coraline Jones, who has moved to the Pink Palace Apartments in scenic nowheresville. Not her choice of course -- she had friends, a life, back in Michigan. Now? Now she’s stuck in a run down mansion with parents who are too busy to spend time with her, and her neighbors are a bunch of weirdos. Life sucks, but one night Coraline is lured by strange mice to a strange door, which leads to an even stranger world. One similar to her own, but… different. In this place her parents aren’t stressed out and overworked, they’re fun and fancy free, and the world isn’t gray and miserable, it’s full of magic and wonder. It all seems too good to be true, and because this is a movie that’s probably the case. Because what happens when your dream world doesn’t let you leave?

It’s probably going too far to say that Coraline saved stop motion animation. Just four years prior Tim Burton had tried to double dip into his Nightmare Before Christmas with The Corpse Bride (with middling success), and adult swim was turning heads with Moral Orel and Robot Chicken, so it was still around if increasingly niche in the age of Flash animation. What Coraline did do however was to show the audience the power and the potential of modern technology to the medium. You watch Nightmare Before Christmas and while it’s still a masterful piece of art you can feel the limits of what Selick could get on screen. By the time of Coraline however you can tell it’s stop motion but it flows so smoothly that it’s easy to forget that it’s stop motion at all, and it does things effects wise that no other stop motion film had ever done before. It really put the wonder back into filmmaking, as well as put Laika on the map pretty much immediately. That Laika even still exists in the wasteland that is theatrical animation speaks to just how well they were able to utilize the momentum from this movie.

  For Nightmare Before Christmas it was Tim Burton, and for Coraline the big name was Neil Gaiman. Back in 1996 Gaiman parlayed his success in the comic book world into a career in show business, and 2007 in particular had seen two of his jobs, Stardust (based on his novel) and the animated Beowulf, make it to the big screen. Coraline was easily the most successful of the bunch, and that makes sense as ‘dark fairy tale’ is firmly in Gaiman’s wheelhouse, as well as Selick’s with his adaptation of James and the Giant Peach. I wouldn’t say he’s really breaking new ground, in fact Coraline bears a lot of similarities to Clive Barker’s “The Thief of Always”, but his fondness for the strange and the archaic comes through on the screen, or at least Selick’s adaptation of it. The name Tim Schafer comes to mind, the mind behind Psychonauts and Monkey Island, and I would say that’s an apt comparison. If you liked Psychonauts, you’d like Coraline.

One more thing I want to bring up is the score, composed by France’s Bruno Coulais. Going into this film I was expecting something along the lines of Nightmare Before Christmas, because obviously, but Coulais is not the same kind of composer as Danny Elfman. Elfman is forceful in his music, even when he’s being subtle he feels bombastic. Coulais by contrast is soft, often sparse, and the use of a children’s choir gives Coraline an atmosphere that is both ethereal and unsettling. It’s very unlike standard kid’s fare, in fact the comparison that keeps coming to mind is Akira, and I couldn’t help but love it. Music nerd that I am I also loved the cameo by They Might Be Giants, other bands wish they could do as much with a minute.

       Coraline gets an easy recommendation. It’s got the wonder that appeals to young kids, it’s got the edge that appeals to older kids, and it’s smart enough to appeal to parents. That’s what you want in a family movie, and it’s something in short supply in the days of Disney and Illumination. When Halloween rolls around and you’re looking for something to do with the kids, grab a bowl of popcorn and pop this one in. A treat that you don’t even have to leave the house for.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2017 - Kubo and the Two Strings (2016), directed by Travis Knight

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "Tsugaru Jongara Bushi", by Ki & Ki

     As much as I tend to lean on the sides of directors when it comes to film making, they are supposed to be the ones calling the shots after all, occasionally I will give credit where credit is due to the studios and production companies through which these films are built, financed and eventually sent off into the world. Would the genre of horror be quite the same without the influence of Hammer Films? Would James Gunn be heading Guardians of the Galaxy or Matt Stone and Trey Parker be pushing two decades worth of South Park if Troma hadn’t lent a helping hand? Introducing money into the equation is the leading cause of fucked up movies, and studio execs love that money, but money is also the only way you make movies at all, so it’s a complicated relationship. When that money is given with an open mind and willingness to explore, that’s when the magic happens.

     When it comes to animation however, a style of film making that is even more collaborative than the standard, it is the studios and production companies where the true power lies. Pixar, Studio Ghibli, Nelvana (responsible for former Marathoner Rock & Rule) Tokyo Movie Shinsa (Castle of Cagliostro and Akira) and now Laika, based out of Oregon. A relative newcomer to the film stage, they’re only about 12 years old, Laika has been slowly building up an impressive body of work since then. Kicking things off with Coraline in 2009, which was likely their biggest hit, Laika defined themselves by their incredibly detailed, masterfully shot, downright beautiful claymation work, crafting films that were fun for the whole family, but didn’t shy away from the darker subjects. In 2012 they came out with ParaNorman (another great one), and two years later The Boxtrolls, the lowest rated and yet ironically the second highest-grossing of their filmography. That may have been for the best, because it was that increased revenue that helped to give us Kubo and the Two Strings.

     In a village by the sea in what is most likely Japan, a one-eyed boy named Kubo lives in a cave overlooking those vast waters. Every morning when he wakes he takes of his mother, who is trapped in a catatonic state, and then travels down to the village in order to make money. Kubo is a master at the art of origami you see, as well as a musician, and when he plays the shamisen these creatures of folded paper literally come to life and move about. He uses these skills to tell stories, tales of the heroic samurai Hanzo and his quest for the Golden Armor, and his war against the evil Moon King. Every time he comes close to finishing this story however, the town bell rings for sundown, and Kubo runs home. Kubo can never be outside once night falls, you see, no matter what.

     What the folks in the village don’t know is that all of Kubo’s stories were true, Hanzo, the Moon King, etc., because Hanzo is Kubo’s father, and his mother one of the daughters of the Moon King. A long time ago Kubo and his mother had washed up on the village, sacrificing Hanzo’s life and one of Kubo’s eyes in order to escape the wrath of the Moon King. That escape was only temporary though, and when those divine forces finally catch up to the broken family, Kubo must go on a journey to recover the Golden Armor in order to vanquish the Moon King once and for all. Kubo, along with a talking monkey and a stag beetle samurai, isn’t just telling stories anymore: He’s living one.

     To say that this film beautiful veers on redundant, because this is a Laika movie and Laika movies always look great. Kubo is a classic Hero’s Quest type story, and the set pieces are suitably epic for the occasion. Windswept tundras, endless lakes, sweeping vistas of mountains and valleys, Kubo’s world is lush and vibrant in a way that very few animated films are able to match. The characters are animated so finely that they seem to breath and move, and it is astounding to consider just how much work Travis Knight and his team had to put in to make it look this good. Even I have to admit that one my favorite films of my childhood, the Nightmare Before Christmas, looks a bit slow in comparison. Of course claymation is like the prog rock of animation; A treat to experience but a chore to record, and the progression of technology smooths that process. ‘Smooths’ being the operative word, it’s a still a lot of work.

     I think what I like most about about Kubo though is that it’s a movie that tells a story about the importance of stories (I believe that would be considered a meta-narrative, but then I’m dumb). Kubo’s mother tells him stories which he tells the villagers, Kubo’s adventure is a story, and our memories of our loved ones who have left us are a story as well. As someone with relatives who suffer from dementia, who have lost a lot of what made them them, I guess it all hit a bit close to home for me.

     It’s a damn shame that Kubo and the Two Strings seemed to slip under the radar like it did, but you’d be doing yourself a disservice if you didn’t check it out. Whether you’re an animation fan, a parent looking for a film for their kid, or you just like shit that doesn’t seem like all the other shit you’ve seen, Kubo is the movie for you. When you’re not busy making your own stories this Halloween, give this one a try. You just might find something you really like.