The Legend of Ochi was made with the right spirit. It prioritizes practical puppetry, features great creature design, a strong supporting cast, and shows clear affection for ’80s classics like The Dark Crystal, Labyrinth, The Goonies, E.T., and Gremlins. Yet for all its technical achievements, it remains highly derivative, emotionally distant and struggles to carve out its own identity.
The film is distributed by A24, the ultimate “wannabe” studio for cinephiles. Once known for betting on bold directors and giving them freedom, A24 has since built its own distinctive feel: weird, edgy, and increasingly self-conscious. The Legend of Ochi marks their first foray into the family adventure genre, and while it’s nice to see the studio branching out, this feels more like a film that simply applies A24’s trademarks on top of a familiar formula rather than creating something with its own voice. The story echoes countless ’80s films and more recent animated features. It closely mirrors the first two How to Train Your Dragon movies and Abominable—an outcast protagonist, a misunderstood creature, a bonding montage, and an overbearing father figure. The difference is, where How to Train Your Dragon brought heart and personality to elevate its simple story, The Legend of Ochi feels more like a checklist of plot points.
First-time director Isaiah Saxon does a fine job in smaller, quieter moments. Early scenes between the girl and the Ochi, or later with Emily Watson’s character, carry genuine tenderness. But as the film expands, that intimacy fades. The direction becomes overly concerned with puppetry and visuals, losing sight of the character bonds that should anchor the story.
Unfortunately, Saxon also stumbles with what should have been the film’s core: its protagonist. There’s an attempt to make her more unconventional than the typical “lonely, good child,” but it backfires. Helena Zengel—so strong in News of the World—feels totally out of place here, making the protagonist difficult to connect with. Supporting characters, like her brother, are underdeveloped. With emotional connections never truly soaring beyond isolated moments, the film feels distant. The score, which could have compensated, tries with its woodwind-heavy themes to evoke innocence, but ultimately feels manufactured rather than genuinely stirring—good intentions all around without emotional impact.
Tonally, the film struggles too. Some moments, like the overly playful supermarket scene, feel like they are trying too hard to be funny. Unlike The Goonies or E.T.—which were adventure films starring children but not made solely for them—The Legend of Ochi feels like it’s working too hard to please them, and ends up hurting itself in the process.
Still, the film has its moments. The puppetry is outstanding, rivaling Grogu from The Mandalorian in sheer cuteness, and the practical effects give the film a tangible, handmade charm. Despite its low budget, The Legend of Ochi looks great and reminds us that practical techniques still have a real place in modern filmmaking. Willem Dafoe lights up the film whenever he’s on screen, always reliably entertaining, and Emily Watson brings much-needed gravitas to her scenes.
By the third act, everything unfolds exactly as expected, and the lack of originality becomes overwhelming. I wanted to be swept up in the adventure, but for all its nostalgic appeal, strong craftsmanship, and good intentions, The Legend of Ochi struggles to find its own voice. Willem Dafoe’s lively performance and some charming world-building help, but the mishandled protagonist holds the film back. It may offer some comfort for fans of classic adventure films, but it never matches the magic of the movies it admires.