Filmmaker Henry Selick’s twofold gifts are his abilities to bring nightmares to life and bring life to nightmares – his stylised stop-frame animation films are confidently creepy, but their whimsical charm and cheeky horror comedy lets vibrancy coexist with the macabre in a unique way that audiences apparently love. 

Selick’s newest film, Wendell and Wild, arguably does this more evenly than any of his others. Selick’s first film, The Nightmare Before Christmas (conceived by Tim Burton and made 30 years ago), was as over-the-top as it could be – pairing a ghastly world with musical cheer. Between then and Wendell and Wild, Selick has only made three other films, the most celebrated being Coraline, which is certainly waggish but becomes progressively darker and more poignant.

Wendell and Wild is somewhere in between, striking a balance that makes it a great film for children and adults alike. 

This is largely thanks to Selick’s co-director Jordan Peele, who as well as making horror films such as Get Out and Nope, is a brilliant comedian. Peele and his partner in comedy crime, Keegan-Michael Key, voice Wendell and Wild, a pair of demon brothers, beautifully designed as gnarly purple caricatures of themselves.

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’. The scheming demon brothers Wendell (Keegan-Michael Key) and Wild (Peele). Image: courtesy of Netflix

The two are a classic squabbling, villainous pair, clearly modelled on Pain and Panic, the demon duo in Disney’s Hercules: tall and skinny, short and stout; cunning and irritable, goofy and carefree; and collectively dysfunctional enough to be either unintentionally harmless or unknowingly malevolent.

Wendell and Wild’s mischief is the slimy centre of the film’s edgy madness, so it seems fitting that it be named for them, but they’re not the protagonists. That would be Kat (Lyric Ross), a precocious, strong-willed teenager who has become angry, lonely and suspicious after five years of being moved around in the child welfare system.

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’. Kat (voiced by Lyric Ross). Image: courtesy of Netflix

‘Wendell and Wild’. Image: courtesy of Netflix

The film opens with the memory of her parents’ death, inadvertently caused by her distracting them in a car as an eight year old. She’s deeply traumatised by the accident (“Figured I’d just hate myself for the rest of my life”) and her guilt and loneliness have got her into a lot of trouble, which for an orphan means time in juvenile detention centres. 

Kat believes that people she gets close to are doomed, so she pushes them away to prevent them from getting hurt. But it’s also clear that she is reluctant to form attachments because she is scared of losing people again, thus perpetuating a cycle of isolation. She embraces her own alienation in her punk-rock aesthetic, which is both a form of self-expression and a way to keep others at arm’s length. Kat’s character delves remarkably candidly into the psychological hurt experienced by troubled children and teens. 

When we catch up with Kat, she is returning to Rust Bank, the town where her parents died, where a welfare programme called Break The Cycle has enrolled her in a preppy Catholic school, garrisoned by a gaggle of ghoulish nuns. In the years she’s been gone, the once bustling town has succumbed to rot and all but died, dishevelled houses standing empty; and a pair of opportunistic developers are buying up as much real estate as they can get their hands on to build a large private prison. 

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’. Sister Daley (voiced by Michele Mariana), Kat (voiced by Lyric Ross), and Sister Chinstrap (voiced by Michele Mariana). Image: courtesy of Netflix

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’.(L-R) Father Bests (voiced by James Hong), Kat (voiced by Lyric Ross), and Sister Daley and Sister Chinstrap (voiced by Michele Mariana). Image: courtesy of Netflix

Just as Kat returns to her hometown and is forced to face her metaphorical demons, she meets her actual demons. “They say everyone’s got demons, right? My demons have names”. Their names, of course, are Wendell and Wild. Kat, it turns out, is a hell-maiden, gifted with supernatural powers, and cursed by demons that deceive her into summoning them to the material world. 

Kat is a likeable, hardcore character, but not a pleasant person, making her uncommon as a lead in a child’s film. Making deals with demons is not a trope one generally associates with good guys and Selick uses this to break taboos. The idea of a stubborn young woman working with her demons could well have been influenced by Bean and Lucy in Matt Groening’s animated comedy, Disenchantment. The relationship between manipulated lead and disruptive antihero affords licence push the boundaries of what can be responsibly depicted in children’s entertainment.

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’.(L-R) Kat (voiced by Lyric Ross) and Sister Helley (voiced by Angela Bassett). Image: courtesy of Netflix

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’. (L-R) Wendell (voiced by Keegan-Michael Key), Father Bests (voiced by James Hong) and Wild (voiced by Jordan Peele). Image: courtesy of Netflix

Sometimes that means gross comedy involving snot or gooey bugs; and sometimes it means implied adult content, like Wendell and Wild’s constant ingesting of hair cream, a substance which for demons is an intensely psychedelic substance; but most bold is Selick’s subversive imagery and themes. The mere inclusion of a blood oath, a demonic nun or a zombie priest (voiced to perfection by James Hong) is controversial, and there is fairly sophisticated social commentary on the decay of community, the corrupt nature of privatised development and the prison industrial complex in particular.

It’s notable that the true villains of the film are the Klaxons, a pair of corporate bullies who would casually burn down a town or drown a priest to get what they want. There’s a demon called Buffalo Belzer (clearly a pseudonym for Beelzebub) who rules hell with sadistic delight, tormenting the souls of the dead in a hellish torture fair with the ironic groovy reggae sounds of Ghost Town by The Specials. Even he gets a redemption arc, as if to say: not even Satan is as evil as those who willingly profit off of the misfortune of others. On that note, you’ll notice that one of the Klaxons bears a resemblance to a certain nefarious ex-president of the US. 

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’. Buffalo Belzer (voiced by Ving Rhames). Image: courtesy of Netflix

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’. (L-R) Irmgard Klaxon (voiced by Maxine Peake) and Lane Klaxon (voiced by David Harewood). Image: courtesy of Netflix

In pursuit of all of this hidden and not-so-hidden symbolism, Selick and Peele definitely clutter the plot – the second half of the movie rushes to resolve several subplots at once. Rushed resolution is one of the most anticlimactic qualities of a film – when characters are prone to make 180-degree turns on their motivation based on practically nothing, it feels childish and detracts from the emotional believability of the characters. 

Selick and Peele must have been keen to keep the tone of Wendell and Wild lighter than Coraline without compromising the spooky Halloweenish content, but only the better half of the voice actors are able to pull this off while preserving the drama. Many of the voice actors of supporting characters lacked impetus in moments of action and seemed bizarrely calm and accepting of new supernatural paradigms, so some of the biggest moments were underwhelming. 

Production still from ‘Wendell and Wild’. The Old Guard. Image: courtesy of Netflix

The summation of all of these problems is that the second half of the film is a little more childish than it needs to be, but that is not nearly enough to damn the whole thing. A few of the multitudinous narratives are reached successfully – most notably Kat’s character progression towards self-forgiveness and gratitude for those who are kind to her works well. 

Apart from all that, Wendell and Wild is just a joy to watch. The sets and objects are made with a level of care that grabs one’s attention in a way that cute, polished 3D CGI animation seldom can, and the character designs are wonderfully stylised into vivacious cartoonish figures that are charming even while being slightly grotesque. There’s something unsettling about the jerky movement of stop-frame animation even when it isn’t trying to be. When it’s used to intentionally appear spooky, the medium is arguably at its best, and the combination of Selick’s crafting, Peele’s comedic flare and a damn good soundtrack makes Wendell and Wild a prime example of the art-form. DM/ML

Wendell and Wild is available in South Africa on Netflix from 28 October.

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