In a film world dominated by glossy CGI effects, The Legend of Ochi stands out. It’s a refreshing film, carefully made with a passion for old-school fantasy. Isaiah Saxon’s debut feature is a marvel of visual design, a children’s fantasy that evokes the tactile charm of 1980s classics while refusing to become a slave to nostalgia.
The story takes place in Carpathia, a fictional island in the Black Sea. It’s a magical place with thick forests and ancient traditions, but also modern touches like cars, supermarkets and television sets. Children on the island are taught to fight against the Ochi, mysterious creatures they believe to be monsters. But when young Yuri (Helena Zengel), whose father Maxim (Willem Dafoe) leads the militia, finds a baby Ochi, she discovers that fear and truth rarely walk hand in hand.
Much has already been said of the film’s practical artistry, and rightly so. With its masterfully executed puppetry, matte paintings and jaw-dropping location shoots in Romania, The Legend of Ochi is a rare triumph of analogue effects.
The Ochi creature is a masterstroke of design—equal parts Gremlins’ Gizmo and The Mandalorian’s Grogu, with just enough bite to avoid feeling like a plush toy with eyes. A key moment halfway through the film, when Yuri discovers she can communicate with the Ochi through birdsong-like sounds, is beautifully rendered, though it resonates more as an intellectual breakthrough than an emotional device.
The adult cast lends gravity where needed. Dafoe is commanding in a role that toes the line between delusion and duty, and Emily Watson provides a brief but poignant presence as Yuri’s mother. Still, the film’s heart never fully lives in its characters—it resides in its world. From moss-covered ruins to moonlit mountain passes, every frame pulses with intention. This is a film that dares to believe in beauty for its own sake, and in an era where many children’s films are frantic, overstuffed and over-engineered, this is surely a radical approach.
There are pacing issues. As the central journey unfolds, the narrative can feel a little saggy, particularly in the second half when it should be gaining steam. Unlike the best fantasy quests, Ochi doesn’t quite build to a cathartic climax. Instead, it wanders, content to let the viewer soak in the spectacle rather than ride a rollercoaster of emotion.
In a better cinematic world, Saxon’s film would spark a movement, a return to craft, texture, and a little mystery in storytelling. For now, it stands alone, not quite a masterpiece, but a wholly original vision in a genre that often forgets that there’s more than comic superheroes and computer game adaptations.
