Review: ‘Coraline’ — One of the Greatest Animated Films Ever Made

Henry Selick’s deeply atmospheric and creepy 2009 animated film remains his finest work to date

Still from Coraline, via Laika/Pandemonium/Focus Features/Universal Pictures

Henry Selick deserves significantly more credit than he tends to receive as an animator and a director of animation. While his most recent outing, 2022’s Netflix-produced Wendell and Wild, proved very disappointing because of that film’s difficulty in balancing its tone/atmosphere and its storytelling (attempting to be both a Key and Peele comedy at the same time as a horror mystery at least partially inspired by Wednesday Addams’ character), Selick’s other directorial work has boasted consistent brilliance for decades: James and the Giant Peach (1996), The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993, often mistakenly attributed to the film’s story writer/producer Tim Burton instead of Selick himself) and Coraline (2009), as well as the wonderful, painfully underrated live action and animation hybrid Monkeybone (2001, reviewed here in full).

Selick’s 2009 film, based upon Neil Gaiman’s novel of the same name (the less said about Gaiman’s life outside of writing, the better), is an animated masterpiece so incredibly meticulous in its visual detailing that it can be difficult to believe at times. It is a film imbued with a palpable sense of dread within its atmosphere, one that is brilliantly balanced with light comedic flourishes for levity as well as a sense of adventure and mystery which allows the film to appeal to a much younger demographic than the novel that it is based on. The novel, which is seemingly written to appeal to teenagers at the absolute youngest, has a much more pointed focus on the horror elements of its story and world rather than that cautious and well implemented balance found in this film adaptation, making it more widely accessible and emotionally varied. An atmospheric and aesthetic masterpiece (as well as a thoughtful and intelligent adaptation of Gaiman’s novel, adding a number of impressive additional elements to the novel), Selick’s film has aged wonderfully over the last fifteen plus years and it continues to dig its claws in a little deeper with each subsequent viewing.

Coraline tells the story of the titular 11-year-old (voiced by Dakota Fanning, who is terrific especially given her age at the time of filming/recording), a lonely child often ignorantly called Caroline rather than by her actual name, as she moves with her parents into the Pink Palace. The Pink Palace is a crummy apartment building that is practically falling down and which one would expect to see the characters from The Florida Project reluctantly moving into. Repeatedly disregarded by her constantly busy parents, further frustrated by the only other child around (Wybie, or ‘why were you born’, as Coraline lovingly refers to him at one point) and clearly unhappy in her new surroundings no matter how much she attempts to distract herself by exploring them, Coraline is overjoyed when she is led one night to the ‘Other’ world — a place where everything meets Coraline’s wants and needs — which is found on the other side of a tiny door in one of the rooms of her family’s new apartment, at first appearing filled with bricks but by night opening into an alluring purple portal to another world. It is a place that, at first, appears to be perfect — her parents are attentive and dedicated entirely to her in ways that she wishes her ordinary parents would be, Wybie is much less aggravating to Coraline (having been quite brutally turned into a mute) and the surrounding neighbours and environments are now fascinating and vivid, colourful and inviting. Of course, things aren’t as simple as perfection always appears to be, and Coraline soon discovers the disturbing reality behind this facade of the exact life she has been dreaming of.

Still from Coraline, via Laika/Pandemonium/Focus Features/Universal Pictures

The rest of the film tells a grim and frequently disturbing be-careful-what-you-wish-for cautionary tale story that has petrified children and unnerved many adults since its release in 2009. And, from its first scare to its last, it does so beautifully. Coraline is a practically flawless film on all formal fronts, but it is also filled with emotional and meaningful themes, enjoyable and memorable characters and as an adaptation it is also a creatively inspired work which has a terrific understanding of what to change from Gaiman’s already solid novel to improve upon it and which of Gaiman’s ideas to explore in more detail. Its animation, by Laika (the wonderful animation studio also responsible for Corpse Bride, Kubo and the Two Strings, ParaNorman and, if the rumours can be trusted, an upcoming adaptation of Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi which is bound to be stunning!) is breathtaking from start to finish with a versatile variety of great settings and memorable character designs that come across even more remarkably because of their finest handmade details (I was especially surprised, while reading the original novel for this review, to find that almost all of the visual quirks of the characters are from Selick and co. rather than being lifted from the descriptions in Gaiman’s writing, and realising this has only made me more impressed with the creative work conducted on this film!).

Its screenplay is daring and unpredictable, moving into some truly bleak themes and narrative beats during its great third act including the frequently brought up idea of the removal of characters’ eyes, freakishly distorted character designs and the throughline idea of Coraline being neglected to such an extent that the Other world appears idyllic for quite some time despite the early warning signs of the hidden realities of this strange place. The cast also contribute a great deal to the film and the chosen actors are mostly perfectly selected for their roles. Fanning gives one of the finest performances of her career as Coraline and Keith David is consistently scene-stealing as the Black Cat, lending a certain edginess to Coraline’s off kilter sidekick that works brilliantly. Ian McShane, Jennifer Saunders, Dawn French and Teri Hatcher are all also terrific in their roles, expressive and lively and exciting throughout the film.

Still from Coraline, via Laika/Pandemonium/Focus Features/Universal Pictures

Above all else, though, it is Coraline’s unique and unsettling atmosphere that makes it such a great viewing experience. Its visual style is pronounced but never overbearing in ways which distract from the story or the characters, showing the influence of German Expressionism in particular through its tilted angles and uncanny set design (quite a Tim Burton-ism, but it works exceptionally well here!). The oddball character proportions and the perfectly suited, haunting score of Bruno Coulais further the impact of Selick’s oppressive world(s) and make them all the more immersive both narratively and emotionally. The film’s ability to place its moments of levity so well is great, too, as it allows the film to be dark and frightening without alienating (too many) viewers and simultaneously stops it from feeling too bleak for the joys of its adventurous side to be felt.

Most remarkable for its detailed animation and its many nightmarish qualities, Coraline is an impossibly well-crafted film. It is a wondrous, surprisingly dark tale of accepting and being grateful for what you have rather than falling into the trap of constantly wanting more from the world and those who inhabit it alongside us. It is masterfully animated, thrillingly paced and elevated by a variety of unforgettable vocal performances, easily earning a spot among the greatest animated films of the 21st century so far, if not of all time.

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