NEW YORK (AP) — Travis Knight, the chief executive of the stop-motion animation studio Laika, wasn’t prepared for the response to the teaser for his new film, “Wildwood.”
As we navigate through unprecedented times, our journalists are working harder than ever to bring you the latest local updates to keep you safe and informed.
Now, more than ever, we need your support.
Starting at $15.99 plus taxes every four weeks you can access your Brandon Sun online and full access to all content as it appears on our website.
or call circulation directly at (204) 727-0527.
Your pledge helps to ensure we provide the news that matters most to your community!
*Your next Free Press subscription payment will increase by $1.00 and you will be charged $20.95 plus GST for four weeks. After four weeks, your payment will increase to $24.95 plus GST every four weeks.
NEW YORK (AP) — Travis Knight, the chief executive of the stop-motion animation studio Laika, wasn’t prepared for the response to the teaser for his new film, “Wildwood.”
NEW YORK (AP) — Travis Knight, the chief executive of the stop-motion animation studio Laika, wasn’t prepared for the response to the teaser for his new film, “Wildwood.”
Almost immediately, it went viral. The early trailer rapidly gained more than 90 million views on YouTube, galvanized by people awed by the apparent scale and emotional depth of Laika’s most ambitious film yet. Sample comment: “AI is the future. Laika: Hold my meticulously handcrafted stop motion beer.”
“People that I worked with — hardened industry folks with wizened black husks of hearts — were sending me text messages: ‘Jesus Christ, your trailer just made me cry,’” Knight says, chuckling.
Why did Knight’s strange, indie stop-motion animated movie resonate so strongly?
“The making of the art leaves fingerprints on the art,” Knight surmises. “And I think people feel that.”
There’s no shortage of people proclaiming that AI is the future. There are significantly fewer proselytizing about stop-motion animation’s assured destiny. But Laika, the Portland, Oregon-based studio, has for two decades tried to keep an old movie art form alive while mixing in more modern, computer-generated advances. (“We’re not Amish,” promises Knight.)
The studio’s first release in 2009, Henry Selick’s “Coraline,” is still its most beloved. But Laika’s commitment to handcrafted filmmaking and darkly gothic tales has won a loyal following over the years, even though its last release was the 2019 flop “Missing Link.”
