By Max Vásquez
redaccion@latinocc.com
There’s a rare kind of film that feels like it stumbled in from another decade — strange, tactile, richly imagined and just edgy enough to feel dangerous. In a cinematic landscape dominated by franchise spectacles, algorithm-driven content, and IP reboots, The Legend of Ochi arrives like a long-lost storybook pulled from a dusty shelf.
The kind of film that felt like a secret — until you learned everyone else had seen it, too.
Directed by music video visionary Isaiah Saxon in his feature debut, this imaginative and tactile fantasy feels as though it was forged in another era, the kind of quietly magical film you might have stumbled across as a child late at night on cable, unsure if it was real or something you dreamed.
Set on the fictional old-world island of Carpathia, the film follows Yuri (Helena Zengel), a misunderstood teenage girl navigating grief, alienation, and a war-torn community obsessed with the extermination of the mysterious Ochi — a species of primal creatures seen as dangerous threats to human settlements.
But from its opening frames, it’s clear Ochi is more interested in myth than modernity, in texture over exposition, and in heart over spectacle. And that’s a large part of its charm.
Helena Zengel, already acclaimed for her turn in News of the World, is magnetic as Yuri. Clad in a massive, filthy yellow puffer jacket that practically swallows her, she exudes a feral toughness and wounded vulnerability that give her character surprising depth.
Yuri lives with her father Maxim (Willem Dafoe, chewing scenery in the best possible way) and her pseudo-brother Petro (Finn Wolfhard), both of whom are part of a local militia trained to hunt the Ochi.
Maxim is a flamboyant figure — a blustery patriarch with a flair for theatrical armor and battlefield speeches — but he keeps Yuri at a distance.
Whether it’s out of misguided protection or ingrained patriarchal values, his refusal to include her in his warrior rituals becomes a subtle but sharp metaphor for gendered exclusion. Instead, Yuri retreats to her room, blaring death metal and stewing in silence.
The plot is sparked when she discovers a wounded baby Ochi and, against everything she’s been taught, decides to care for it.
What unfolds is a quest — both physical and emotional — to return the creature to its kin, in the process unraveling much of what Yuri thought she knew about the world, her family, and herself.
The Legend of Ochi borrows from a rich cinematic and artistic lineage. You can see the fingerprints of Hayao Miyazaki, especially in the film’s reverence for nature and the misunderstood creatures who inhabit it.
There’s Amblin-style nostalgia in the storytelling; echoes of E.T. and The Black Stallion reverberate through the bond between Yuri and the Ochi. But the aesthetic also recalls the tactile magic of Michel Gondry, particularly in its use of puppetry, matte paintings, and practical effects that evoke a handmade quality often absent in modern fantasy.
Director Isaiah Saxon comes from the world of music videos, having worked with artists like Björk on the video for “Wanderlust.” That background shows here in the film’s lush visuals and careful attention to world-building.
There’s a music video sensibility, yes — a deep focus on color, form, and texture — but instead of feeling hollow or overly stylized, it makes the film feel richly alive.
Evan Prosofsky’s cinematography is painterly and immersive, capturing Carpathia in wide, fog-drenched shots and vivid close-ups.
The score by David Longstreth (of Dirty Projectors) is whimsical, haunting, and perfectly attuned to the film’s offbeat rhythms.
Not everything lands perfectly.
The film’s emotional beats, particularly those tied to Yuri’s rediscovery of her mother, played tenderly by Emily Watson, don’t always resonate as deeply as they should.
Some narrative elements, like a surreal visit to a bizarre supermarket or a comedic showdown between Watson and Dafoe, walk a tonal tightrope that may lose some viewers.
But even when the story falters, the creative risks being taken are so bold and sincere that the missteps feel minor.
There’s a clear reverence in Ochi for the power of storytelling. It’s a movie unafraid to be earnest, to believe in the transportive power of fantasy and the emotional weight of grief.
It’s also a rare film that dares to be gentle, a PG-rated adventure that never condescends to younger viewers, nor limits itself to them. Instead, it trusts its audience to sit with ambiguity, to feel unease, and to wonder.
For a production made on a modest $10 million budget, The Legend of Ochi punches far above its weight.
In an age when even mid-budget fantasy seems like an endangered species, its very existence feels like a small miracle. The puppetry is beautiful, the environments immersive, and the filmmaking unapologetically personal.
By the time the credits roll, The Legend of Ochi may not have the airtight storytelling of a studio epic, but it offers something arguably more valuable: originality, intention, and a dreamlike quality that lingers long after.
It may become that formative, slightly dangerous-feeling movie for a new generation — the one you remember not just for what happened, but for how it made you feel.
Three stars out of four.
The Legend of Ochi, an A24 release, is rated PG by the Motion Picture Association for “some language, smoking, a bloody image, thematic elements and violent content.” Running time: 96 minutes. In theaters nationwide Friday.
