'THE LEGEND OF OCHI' a Technically Impressive but Familiar A24 Fable

The Legend of Ochi harks back to an earlier era of children’s cinema. Set in the not-quite-magical, not-quite-real world of Carpathia—where mythical bipedal creatures roam the mossy forests, but stick-shift cars and terrestrial radio also exist—writer-director Isaiah Saxon crafts a vibe-heavy feature in which the all-natural landscapes and often jaw-dropping creature design take center stage. Tell me if you’ve heard this one before: a young girl bonds with a mysterious creature and sets out to return it home. It’s a story we’ve seen dozens of times, though few recent iterations arrive with this level of craft. It’s a film equally indebted to the works of Steven Spielberg and Wes Anderson, though it lacks the signature touch that gives those directors’ films such vivid life and clear sense of purpose.

But Ochi isn’t afraid to get a little weird, a little dark, a little off-kilter, and it cuts against the grain of what’s become standard PG fare. These days, kids’ movies tend to be hyperactive, high-gloss, and over-processed, the cinematic equivalent of cavity-causing junk food. The Legend of Ochi, to its credit, is decidedly not that. It’s strange and meditative…but sometimes that just means it moves in slow motion. Spiritually and stylistically, this A24 creature feature has more in common with films like Labyrinth, E.T., and The NeverEnding Story. Even if, in execution, it never quite reaches the emotional or narrative clarity of those childhood staples.

As alluded to, the plot here is rather thin and leaves quite a bit to be desired. Yuri (Helena Zengel), our protagonist, is part of a group of boys trained by her father Maxim to hunt the supposedly dangerous Ochi. Their little band of child soldiers exists for the sole purpose of wiping out the nefarious Ochi, who are said to eat their flock, torment their citizenry, and murder their wives. It sounds like a tall tale designed to scare kids into violence because it most certainly is just that. When the armed gangs’ expedition results in a baby Ochi being separated from its pack, Yuri chooses to flee her hard-nosed father and help the injured creature find its way home. A simple enough premise, but despite the often stunning visuals and lovingly executed creature work, the film struggles to build emotional momentum. The bond between Yuri and Baby Ochi carries some weight, but the human relationships remain undercooked, and the character arcs and relationships feel more like initial sketches than fully drawn journeys.

That said, Saxon had the good sense to cast Emily Watson and Willem Dafoe as Yuri’s parents. And honestly, what movie doesn’t benefit from a little taste of Dafoe? The man is wonderful in everything he touches, and here he adds a weird texture and credibility to a character who might otherwise be as one-dimensional as any of fiction’s many throwaway militant father figure.

Technically, the film is often quite spectacular. The score, clearly inspired by John Williams’ Amblin era, is sweeping and transportive: a collision of woodsy flutes and ethereal chamber pieces that helps bring the scenes to life. The cinematography from Evan Prosofsky is moody and gorgeously unpolished, a welcome contrast to the overly saturated, textureless digital look that defines so many contemporary family films. Shot on film and utilizing natural locations, Ochi often looks like a lost relic from another time; a visual feast that grounds its thin fantasy in true otherworldly wonder.

The creature work deserves particular praise. The Ochi are brought to life through a mix of puppetry and practical effects that is genuinely astonishing. The baby Ochi, in particular, inspires the kind of fawning awe once reserved for Baby Yoda—though here, there’s the added marvel of not knowing how they pulled it off. The way that baby Ochi sings, blinks, and moves endears us further to it. The creatures are shown in full, in motion, and always feel like they physically inhabit the space. There’s a real magic in that, one the narrative rarely manages to match.

Despite the wow factor of the visuals, the film struggles to create a truly compelling narrative. The characters don’t really grow or shift in meaningful ways. The emotional arcs don’t build, they just sort of float by. What made E.T. resonate wasn’t just the technical wizardry; it was the emotional journey at its core. I’m not convinced anything like that happens here, even though, by the end, Saxon wants to suggest you’ve been on a similar path. Unfortunately, his story trudges forward without much insight into what connects these characters, what drives them, or what ultimately keeps them together…or apart. And at a meager 90 minutes, that journey still feels long.

We’re told late in the film that the Ochi communicate through song, their language deeply steeped in emotion. It’s a beautiful idea, if, again, a familiar one. But despite the stunning settings, the expert craftsmanship, and the performances that punch well above their weight class, The Legend of Ochi never quite learns to speak that same emotional language. If only its story could sing as confidently as its technical prowess.

CONCLUSION: ‘The Legend of Ochi’ is a welcome throwback kids movie that isn’t afraid to be a little weird and dark and moody but despite its towering technical craft, delivers a pretty toothless coming of age fable. This one is easier to respect than it is to outright love but hopefully is a harbinger of great things to come from writer-director Isaiah Saxon.