Laika’s 20 years of stop-motion carry lessons aplenty in craft and storytelling

We can list the facts, figures, and statistics about Laika. It’s a Portland-based stop-motion animation studio. It has made five feature films – Coraline, ParaNorman, The Boxtrolls, Kubo and the Two Strings, and Missing Link – since its launch and, in 2025, celebrated its 20th anniversary. The thing is, these stats don’t do justice to what Laika truly represents. Since Coraline, the studio hasn’t missed a beat in producing fan-favourite after fan-favourite, scrupulously creating cinematic treats that mean so much to so many. This is certainly what sits at the heart of the company, as chief marketing and operations officer, Dave Burke, says, “My job is making sure the work created inside the studio finds the audience it deserves.” 

People can’t help but feel drawn to Laika’s films, not simply due to the stories the studio tells, but the original craftsmanship behind them, with every character, set and movement built individually and shot frame by frame. “It’s painstaking work,” Dave says, “but that physicality gives the films a texture and authenticity audiences immediately feel.” Here, through the use of real materials, light and objects interacting within a real space, we feel a close physical connection. “You can feel the human hand behind every frame,” he adds, “at a moment when so much imagery is created digitally, that tactile quality feels more relevant than ever.”

Meanwhile, Nelson stresses the importance of physicality in motion, and how central it is to Laika. “Creating a film that is essentially handmade tethers it to the physical world,” bringing inanimate objects, puppets and scenes to life, “the audience may not be thinking about that while watching the film, but they can feel it.” The tangibility and tactility of stop-motion, Nelson suggests, tie us to our childhood selves, when we perhaps played with toys, wooden blocks, and action figures. Likewise, Laika’s animators play with props, characters, and buildings. “I think of it as a highly refined childhood play.”

It’s clear that Wildwoodembodies the studio’s latest evolution – one that has taken 20 years to arrive at. “In many ways, Wildwood feels like the moment where everything the studio has been developing over the past 20 years comes together,” Dave says, marking, yes, advances in technical proficiency but also big steps in the creative choices they make. One such choice is the scale of Wildwood, with the film featuring hundreds of characters and over 130 locations. “Bigger isn’t always better,” Nelson says, “but the film needed to be this big to tell this epic story,” with the film taking place in an ancient magical forest, playing with the themes of getting lost and finding your way back. “20 years ago, a stop-motion production of this ambition would be impossible to pull off,” Tim says.

The challenge of even starting a book that reflects on 20 years of a studio’s practice wasn’t lost on Tim, but it was a worthy task. “Recognising the value in the craft, Laika’s archives and media services teams have grown over the years,” – they preserve the studio’s individual film assets, both digitally and physically. “As interest in the art form has expanded,” he continues, “it has led to curated international exhibitions, cultural events, and now this book,” with each offering a new space for fans to interact with the worlds they admire. 

Laika: The Magic Behind a Stop-Motion Dream Factory is quite a retrospective and, in the hands of Dave, a moving one. “It’s both surreal and very gratifying,” Dave says, “when you’re in the middle of making films, you rarely stop to reflect on the bigger picture,” nor take stock of one’s success. “In that sense, it’s less a retrospective and more a record of how a creative community develops over time,” acting as a reminder that the studio carries more than just the films on its shoulders, but a dedication to craft and storytelling.