Monster Mash

Spooky season is almost over. That is, if you follow the conventional wisdom that confines it to October. I prefer to color outside the lines and extend it in either direction when it suits me. But with Halloween this weekend, I figured I’d talk about two newer movies that fit the vibe.

First up is Wildwood, the stop-motion animated feature from Laika Studios. We are a pro-Laika household. Our oldest daughter’s favorite movie is Coraline, which I introduced her to years ago, back when I owned it on some ancient physical format. I saw it during its original theatrical run, but she wasn’t even born yet. More recently, I got to take both daughters to see it in 3D on the big screen. That was pretty cool.

Naturally, Wildwood was anticipated. Our youngest spotted the trailer before I did, and while I’ve liked every Laika film I’ve seen, I wasn’t entirely sold on the story. My stomach tends to drop at child-abduction plots, even when the abductors are crows, with whom I’m generally friendly. And yes, that’s the incident that sets everything else in motion.

But this movie is truly a work of art. The animation is an astonishing achievement, made more precious by the rarity of such labor-intensive filmmaking. It adapts a novel by Colin Meloy, the Decemberists guy. I’m not a huge fan of the band, and I had no idea Meloy had written the book. So I can’t comment on that aspect, but the onscreen story was well paced and often quite moving. Laika reportedly spent roughly five years shooting the film. Five years!

Wildwood is a love letter to the natural splendor of the Pacific Northwest, which is our backyard. It also captures aspects of Portland that are unlike anywhere else in North America. One of my favorite moments is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot of Darth Vader riding a unicycle while playing flaming bagpipes.

The movie is beautiful from top to bottom, but it also has something meaningful to say about protecting humanity’s connection to the environment that sustains us, and the importance of defending that relationship collectively. These are obviously important themes for our times. And while Wildwood isn’t a horror movie per se, it has its share of menacing characters and genuinely frightening situations. Try to catch it in theaters if you can.

The other movie was Clayface, which I saw on my lonesome. This is a DC Universe production originating with a screenplay by Mike Flanagan, who ultimately didn’t direct. He was busy with that Carrie television series, which I’m not going to talk about, except to say I didn’t enjoy it much. Clayface was helmed by James Watkins, with Hossein Amini sharing screenplay credit after revisions. Flanagan’s basic story seems to have survived.

It’s a true B-movie, which isn’t an insult. We tend to associate horror B-movies with the cheesy or risible, but this is a quality production. Its reported $40 million budget is modest by superhero standards, yet it looks good and does the job. Ballyhooed body horror aside, it’s driven by character and performance. Leads Tom Rhys Harries and Naomi Ackie show real chemistry even when the dialogue gives them less to work with.

And this is very much a creature feature. I assume Flanagan loves An American Werewolf in London and David Cronenberg’s The Fly as much as I do, because Clayface owes both films a considerable debt. Not just in the grotesque transformations, but in the romantic tragedy. There’s even a scene recalling those movies’ endings, when a woman confronts the monstrous result of a transformation at the precise moment of separation from the person underneath. Spoilers for two classics, I guess.

Unlike those films, Clayface belongs to an ongoing cinematic universe. Happily, you need no DC knowledge to enjoy it. Comic-book readers will recognize a relatively minor Batman villain, while viewers of the animated Harley Quinn series may recall Alan Tudyk’s hilariously grandiose thespian version. Creature Commandos, which launched the current DCU, shows a more monstrous Clayface. I expect future appearances will lean into that.

I might watch Clayface again when it hits streaming. It won’t replace An American Werewolf in London or The Fly, but it’s an enjoyable spooky-season creature feature that won’t leave you feeling stupider for having watched it. These days, that’s no small feat.

Thus concludes our final dispatch from spooky season. Maybe.