Chris At The Pictures

Our hero is the eponymous Kubo (Art Parkinson); a one-eyed, fatherless boy who spends his days caring for his heartbroken mother and (in an ingenious metaphor for the art of animation itself) astonishing the people of his village by transforming sheets of paper into fantastical legends with a pluck of his guitar strings. When twin evil aunts (sporting V for Vendetta-style masks and voiced by Rooney Mara) attempt to draw him into the clutches of his grandfather (Ralph Fiennes), Kubo’s mother imparts the last of her own magic onto her son. Cast out into the wilderness, Kubo is joined by a wary protector, Monkey (Charlize Theron) and soon after by Beetle (Matthew McConaughey), a forgetful samurai trapped in an insect body. The three embark on a quest to find three mystical objects (the sword unbreakable, the breastplate impenetrable, and the helmet invulnerable), all of which will help Kubo defeat his grandfather.

As if there was the tiniest doubt, the animation is flawless, an exquisite meld of painstakingly handcrafted stop-motion and tasteful computer enhancements. First-time director Travis Knight (previously an animation supervisor for the studio) makes sure his peers’ work is cut out for them, and that aspiring animators (a parish to which yours truly previously belonged) have something truly remarkable to aspire to. An animation is only ever as good as the cast who breathe life into it, and the voiceover work here is an endearing effort by all, particularly Theron as the sardonic ape guardian. McConaughey’s Beetle is also charming, and Fiennes – of course – makes top villain material.

What seems on the outside to be a fairly predictable, kid-friendly adventure story is revealed to be anything but. The first five minutes are near-silent; depicting our young hero’s daily attempts to connect with his distant, non-responsive mother. After a day spent regaling the town with fabulous stories, Kubo returns to the cave he and his mother call home as the sun sets, and leans in to hug her. It’s the smallest, most recognisable gesture, but immediately opens the mind (not to mention the tear ducts). Laika’s past works (including kiddie horror Paranorman and grungy knockabout The Boxtrolls) have rarely tapped into the audience’s emotions as easily as perhaps Pixar might, but with Kubo it’s instantaneous, and – as with the most enduring of stories – has something to offer for everyone. The scary monsters and swooping action sequences will work wonders for children, whilst small notes in the dialogue can be expected to draw knowing glances between adults: “We’re not arguing, we’re just having a grown-up conversation!”

It’s also a very playful film that likes to throw around ideas and concepts about the nature of storytelling. Kubo faces the prospect of concluding his origami swashbucklers with lip-trembling reluctance, but Beetle is quick to re-assure him that stories never really end. It’s a beautifully uplifting and touching moment in a film with about a thousand of them. Laika weave this tale for us, this shining pearl of genuine optimism after a summer chock full of cynical attempts to rehash previous childhood delights, and all they ask in return is that we pay attention. “If you look away, even for an instant, then our hero will surely perish”, warns Kubo’s opening voiceover, and you daren’t blink, lest this pure and delicate wonder be whisked away to a world more deserving of its magic.