The Legend of Ochi review: This beautifully crafted fantasy adventure will make you feel like a kid again
The first time I watched Labyrinth, The NeverEnding Story, and E.T., I remember being struck not just by their fantastic scope but by the very craft that went into building these fantasies. Thanks to the use of animatronics, puppets, matte paintings, and more, these films spun stories that were at once otherworldly yet tactile. I didn't feel like I was just watching a movie — I felt like I could step through the screen and be part of the adventure.
That feeling of childlike wonder returned while watching A24's The Legend of Ochi, the feature debut from writer/director Isaiah Saxon. The Legend of Ochi's gorgeous practical effects place it in the tradition of nostalgic genre films, even when its story doesn't always measure up.
What is The Legend of Ochi about?
The Legend of Ochi transports viewers to the fictional island of Carpathia, where humans are at odds with native creatures known as the Ochi. With their wide eyes, massive ears, and blue-and-gold coloring, the Ochi are what you get if you mix The Mandalorian's Grogu with real-life golden snub-nosed monkeys — but don't be fooled by their cuteness! The Ochi can be ferocious, to the point that Carpathian villager Maxim (Willem Dafoe) has formed a mini militia of children to hunt the wild creatures.
Maxim's daughter Yuri (Helena Zengel) takes part in these hunts, yet she doesn't buy into Maxim's warrior philosophy. Nor does she connect with the other children, including Maxim's adopted son Petro (Finn Wolfhard). Instead, she rages at the world around her and yearns to see her mother Dasha (Emily Watson), who's moved deeper into the mountains and who views the Ochi not with fear but with curiosity.
Yuri is driven to leave her home when she discovers a lone baby Ochi. Armed with nothing but a backpack and some fake fangs to convince the Ochi she's one of its own kind, Helena sets off into the Carpathian wilds to reunite the Ochi with its family — and maybe rethink her own familial relationships along the way
As a story of an outcast meeting a formidable creature, The Legend of Ochi treads familiar ground. Plus, its tale of a fractured family learning to heal never fully coalesces, lacking meaty character development for Yuri and her family even as the performers commit wholly to this human tragedy. But where The Legend of Ochi struggles on the human front, it wholly succeeds on the Ochi front.
The Ochi are movie creatures for the ages.
Created through a combination of animatronics, puppetry, and suited performers, the Ochi are a marvel of filmmaking. We spend most of the film with the baby Ochi, whose movements range from the adorable to the ferocious, all of them wholly believable. Its every breath and expression are so full of energy that it's sometimes all too easy to forget that this creature is a puppet brought to life by seven skilled puppeteers, as opposed to a real animal.
The Legend of Ochi's movie magic doesn't stop with its titular critters (although they deserve at least one more round of applause before I move on). The entire fog-wreathed island of Carpathia is beautifully wrought as well. Matte paintings, hand-crafted set pieces, and retro-feeling cinematography by Evan Prosofsky combine to create a setting that seems both hyperreal and plucked out of time. It's a land that's ripe for adventure, populated by unforgettable creatures.
Even if The Legend of Ochi's story falters and drags at points, the movie is an undeniable triumph of craft. It's also a welcome addition to the currently underserved genre of live-action family fantasy adventures. More than anything, I hope that young audiences have the same reaction to The Legend of Ochi as I did to films like Labyrinth: one of pure awe, and of appreciation for the practical magic of moviemaking.