Nemo is an outcast; he looks different than everyone else, and that has caused him to struggle all his life. He wears a big helmet and a strange-looking suit, and his entire life has been spent being ridiculed for his unique look. One day, however, he meets Laika–an astronaut. Suddenly things are different, and this underdog, outcast story of Laika & Nemo turns beautiful.
Completely guided by the wonderfully intricate animation, Laika & Nemo begins with aesthetic beauty. The stop-motion animation used is nostalgic, and it reminds me of all of those great animated films that I watched when I was a kid, but that’s just a small part of its appeal. While it is incredibly similar to those films, it takes a massive step forward, delivering something completely seamless throughout. Again, this creates beauty, and that’s important for the overall product–but what it does that’s even more important is set the tone for the rest of Laika & Nemo.
Due to the fact that the animation is beautiful, it prepares viewers to journey through something equally beautiful–and they are right in expecting that. Everyone loves an underdog story, everyone loves the chance to see someone who’s down and out rise from the ashes, finding success and happiness along the way. Laika & Nemo brings to life a story that it knows everyone can appreciate–that simple underdog story. Writer-Director Jan Gadermann, however, manages to create a story that, while keeping with the same underdog themes and ideas that we’ve all come to love, is unique to the genre. Rather than using words to express emotion and drive the film forward, Gadermann chooses to omit dialogue almost completely. That’s a strange shift, and a strange way to express these sentiments to viewers, but it manages to work.
Without dialogue, viewers are forced to do a couple of things. The first is to better appreciate the animation. With the incredible animation taking years to come to life, why wouldn’t you want the world to experience every instance of it–and this works wonders for the filmmakers. Laika & Nemo is propelled forward by the animation, and without dialogue, viewers have the luxury of being able to see it all. Beyond that, without dialogue, viewers have more opportunity to appreciate the nuances of the story as well. They are forced to dive deep into the narrative, and rather than focus on words, they focus on the movements of the characters, their facial expressions, the simple sounds that they make, and more. I really enjoy the fact that the crew makes this decision and takes viewers down a path that allows them to better see the purpose of the film. Sometimes dialogue can be too gritty, too unnatural feeling–and Gadermann and his team avoid that possibility altogether.
It’s impossible not to understand that Laika & Nemo is simply a sweet film. It’s touching, and it reaches viewers in all the right ways. The animation is brilliant, the omission of dialogue, and the simplicity of the underdog story marry one another perfectly, never missing a beat and enticing viewers from beginning to end.
Directed by Jan Gadermann & Sebastian Gadow.
Written by Jan Gadermann.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/10
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