Something quite interesting happens when we look beyond the confines of major studios, particularly when it comes to contemporary animation – we discover new and revolutionary works that change our perspectives and present us with something entirely unique and exciting. While they have been doing some wonderful work recently, Pixar and Disney have been overtaken in the race to make an impression on the world of contemporary animation by smaller studios that may not have their resources, but possess a certain scrappy tenacity that makes their output so extraordinary. Tomm Moore has been at the forefront of a few very strong animated film, directing masterpieces such as The Secret of Kells and Song of the Sea, two films that defined their respective years in regards to animation, with their simple style and poignant stories exemplifying the fact that less is more, and that the more effort that is put into giving the viewers something unique, rather than providing them with a spectacle, the higher the reward. Moore has returned with his third entry into this loose trilogy, the astonishing Wolfwalkers, a film that is heavily steeped in folkloric traditions (much in the same way as its predecessors), and made with a stunning beauty that we’re not likely to find very often in an era where computer-generated animation reigns supreme. This isn’t to disparage the excellent work being produced by those who do rely on the wonders of modern technology – but there is something so vivid about the hand-crafted world that Moore and co-director Ross Stewart produce through the distinct, classical style they evoke for this film. Compounded on this striking visual palette is a story that will make even the most cynical of viewers’ hearts soar in absolute awe-inspired wonder, since the story surrounding this film tends to touch on something very deep within us, a fiery sentimentality that is almost universal in how we can find some way to relate to it. All this effusive praise may seem hyperbolic – when dealing with a work as singular and powerful as Wolfwalkers, exaggeration is never truly possible.

Absolutely every frame of Wolfwalkers is brimming with energy, which is a result of a pair of directors who were aware of the story they wanted to tell (working from a stunning screenplay by Will Collins), and understood exactly where they were hoping to take it, on both a narrative and visual level. Much like the previous two films in Moore’s trilogy, Wolfwalkers borrows heavily from Irish folklore, operating as beautiful manifestations of old tales and fables, which the directors weave into unforgettable images, bringing them to an international audience in a way that feels authentic and honest, without it being obviously indebted to generations of traditions. What often happens in such instances is a beloved story is taken and adapted into a major film, which is distributed to a much wider viewership, and in the process of adapting it to the screen, the sincerity and earnestness embedded in the original begins to erode in favour of making it palatable and approachable to all audiences. Wolfwalkers doesn’t have such a problem, giving the utmost respect to the sources that inspired it, and being unabashedly proud of its Irish heritage. It leads to some very interesting changes in the structure of the film, as well as some character motivations (one can consider the main antagonist, a fictionalized Oliver Cromwell, who is shown as being incredibly religious, but in a way that comes across as sincere, rather than being a cause to villainize him further). Moore has always made sure that his films carry with them a sense of understated pride, which he infuses into every moment of this story, each one filled to the brim with an authenticity and meaningful curiosity that speaks volumes, especially when working with something that could’ve easily have come across as trivial or unremarkable had it not been executed with the precision and honesty of someone who not only had a deep respect for these stories, but an active involvement in them, stemming from his own cultural background.

There are essentially two criteria that any successful animated film needs to meet in order to be considered a success – the story, and the animation. In terms of the former, one needs both a strong premise, as well as the ability to stretch it out over a longer period of time, since many animated films tend to come across quite slight in theory, with most of the dialogue and situational writing contributing to the wider sense of enjoyment. Regarding the latter, the animation doesn’t need to be flawless or necessarily beautiful, but at least memorable (consider how we occasionally come across some incredibly disturbing works that use animation as a means to terrify). On both accounts, Wolfwalkers is a resounding success. The research that went into this film is incredibly evident in both the overall storyline, and the dialogue, which has a timbre of authenticity that indicates a lot of work went into it, and it is met by some extraordinary work on the visual platform, with such meticulous detail going into every frame. It doesn’t happen often, but the best kind of animated film is one that makes you stop and marvel at how anyone could possibly create something so beautiful from nothing, using only their own god-given tools (whether a pen and paper, or a computer) to compose something out of essentially thin-air, using only a few distinct ideas to mould an unforgettable experience. Wolfwalkers peddles in these very sensations, having such a powerful control over the viewer, leading us through this world through its unforgettable depiction of a particular time and place that may be very much engrossed in the world of fantasy and adventure, but comes across with an honesty we don’t normally see from films in this genre. It’s absolutely incredible what Moore and Stewart show themselves capable of doing, each moment feeling like a hand-made gift presented to us directly, which isn’t a very common sensation, especially not from something as poignant as this film.

There is a third quality that relates to animated films, but which is a lot rarer, and therefore can’t really be expected of all works – the sense of enchantment. If there is one aspect of Wolfwalkers that lingers on more than any other, it would be the magical experience it gives viewers. This is a film that is fully committed to transporting us to an entirely different world, immersing us in the past in a way that not even the most lavish, lush period dramas have been able to do. Through its simple but affecting story that has real-world implications (in the sense that this is a film about individuality and fighting against the status quo), and absolutely gorgeous animation, this is an incredibly potent film that ventures deep into the heart of history, extracting the most beautiful traditions and repurposing them in such a way that they’re accessible to the rest of the world, but still pay the necessary tribute to their sources. There’s a layer of mystique that governs all of this, one that will remind us all of the wonder and amusement we got as children when experiencing the world when we still genuinely believed magic was possible. Every moment in Wolfwalkers carries this sensation, and as we immerse ourselves deeper into this world, the more Moore and Stewart reveal to us, taking us further and deeper into that overgrown forest, in which a myriad of secrets reside, and only a few of them make themselves known to us. The world-building in Wolfwalkers is absolutely incredible, and it’s a film that makes us want to explore this world along with these characters. The more we see of this environment, the more enticing it becomes to us – and when the credits begin rolling, it feels less like the conclusion of a film, and more the shattering ending of a beautiful, unforgettable journey. Not many films can elicit such a reaction, but through its absolute dedication to every frame, word and musical cue that we encounter throughout its duration, Wolfwalkers proves itself to be something of an exception, a masterpiece that is built on some combination of artistic integrity and outright magic, which leads to a film that tends to linger with a potency that will instantly make this a future classic, and a film that represents the brilliance that can come from giving independent artists a platform to make their voice heard, and their beautiful skills known to a world ready to embrace their vision.