Stop-motion animation has both a long, nuanced history and contemporary allure. From its origins in silent films to its uses in modern blockbusters, the method is known for its textured aesthetic, back-to-basics charm, high artistry, and attention to detail. Filmmakers can create any character or set-piece with the tools at their disposal, limited only by physical substances, and invent movement with in-camera and editing techniques. Stop-motion lends itself to genres which depict other-worldly elements in believable ways, as it combines the three-dimensionality of practical effects with the infinite possibilities of CGI.
Created from a string of almost identical images to give the illusion of movement (think flipbooks), stop-motion can be visually jarring. When characters are in action, they look unusually jumpy, ideal for insects, androids, and other non-human beings. In Henry Selick’s Coraline (2009), the shapeshifting, soul-stealing Beldam, disguised as Coraline’s other mother, switches from human to a skeletal spider with hands made of sewing needles (a would-be feat of special effects on a live actor). Her movements become erratic and disjointed as she scuttles around on eight legs. Stop-motion complements her jerky, spider-like qualities and creates a more authentic monster (see also: Selick’s James and the Giant Peach (1996) for even more animated insects).
Coraline was the first of five films produced by LAIKA, a stop-motion studio focusing on the supernatural. Its second feature, ParaNorman (2012), is about a boy, a cursed New England town, and a zombie invasion. Claymation, puppetry, and 3D printing create a genuine flesh-and-bone quality that makes each zombie convincingly undead. Unlike CGI, they materialise in the physical world, emerging from crumbly, cracked dirt. And since they’re puppets rather than people, more visual effects are possible, like misplaced heads, rolling eyes, and twisted necks. LAIKA’s stop-motion animation makes these characters feel simultaneously dead and alive — what could be more fitting?
Many horror, sci-fi/fantasy, and adventure films have historically incorporated both live action and stop-motion, allowing creators to seamlessly blend the human and non-human world — an often integral component of these genres. Star Wars spawned an entire galaxy of make-believe creatures, many of which are animated using stop-motion, such as tauntauns, bogwings, and AT-AT walkers. The AT-ATs specifically benefit from stop-motion for two reasons: the technique complements both their robotic, staccato movements (like with Coraline’s Beldam) and their larger-than-life size. Like other effects in the original trilogy, the AT-ATs feel authentic thanks to their artistic medium. George Lucas later remastered the films and added CGI, which — much to fans’ discontent — often sticks out like a sore thumb. When fans sense the difference between a computerised character and the real deal, the entire story loses its credibility; this is especially detrimental to sci-fi, which relies on fans believing the fantasy being presented.
Filmmakers of the pre-CGI era frequently conceived giant beings, like gorillas (King Kong (1933)), lizards (Godzilla (1954)), worms (Beetlejuice (1988)), hornets (Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977)), and the kraken (Clash of the Titans (1981)) largely through stop-motion. King Kong, a hellish, semi-humanoid monster, was sculpted primarily from aluminium, rubber, latex, and rabbit fur. Special effects artist Willis O’Brien wanted him to look half-beast, half-human and walk upright to “gain audience empathy,” though director Merian C. Cooper disagreed, favouring a more brutish beast. After many iterations of man-handling and manipulating Kong’s appearance — implausible if he were alive — they settled on a final design. (Actually, they made four Kong models: three for animating and one for falling down the Empire State Building.) Whilst filming, Kong became a behemoth either through double exposure or rear projection. While potentially meticulous, King Kong’s visual effects convince us that this creature is tangibly, consciously alive, heightening our sense of fear by grounding it in reality.
Outright animation operates without rules, allowing filmmakers to exercise their unfiltered creativity, particularly when world-building. Take The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) and its Halloween Town, complete with a (literally) rolling hill, talking trees, and equally kooky characters: a boogie-man made of bugs, a stitched-up rag-doll, and a skeleton ‘king’. When used alongside live action, stop-motion can be convincingly conscious, but a character made from clay or cloth can give off a lifeless, almost corpse-like quality under the right conditions. This is accentuated by action: beady, blinking eyes, spinning heads, levitating limbs. The Nightmare Before Christmas defies physics and breathes new meaning into personification, all whilst amplifying the corporal experience through texture: string, stuffing, stone, Sandy Claws. This three-dimensionality brings the world to life while retaining its nightmarish nature.
Despite continued advances in computerised technology, stop-motion doesn’t seem to be slowing down. Wendell & Wild (2022), co-written and produced by Jordan Peele, is Selick’s first feature since Coraline. The film combines Selick’s flair for the supernatural and psychedelic and Peele’s talent for interweaving horror with socio-cultural commentary. Guillermo del Toro, known for his taste in the fantastic and the macabre, recently adapted Pinocchio into a stop-motion musical. Both films were financed by Netflix, a move which hopefully signals large-scale acceptance of a medium historically undervalued by Hollywood.
Whether it’s to establish tone or create a character from scratch, stop-motion undoubtedly aids in supernatural storytelling. By designing physical versions of mythical creatures or worlds operating outside earthly confines, filmmakers turn imaginative ideas into bodily experiences. While CGI and practical effects can be attractive options, stop-motion offers the best of both, combining the real with the impossible. The medium continues to serve horror, science fiction, and fantasy, satisfying critics and audiences alike.
