Review: I AM FRANKELDA is a Wonderful Mexican Stop-Motion Musical

You know, moviegoers have been spoiled by pristine stop-motion. The bar LAIKA or Aardman set for miniature movements and hand-sculpted characters is mighty high, almost unfair. But, as Netflix's I Am Frankelda reminds us, there's plenty of room for independent spirits to carve their own niche. Siblings Arturo and Roy Ambriz, in collaboration with Cinema Fantasma, meet LAIKA's prestige with Psycho Goreman-esque spirits; exuberant scrappiness overshadows rougher technical chops. Mexico's first indie stop-motion feature is colorful, deliriously creative, and a beautiful bedtime tale rich with Mexican lore—the spunky David to many a polished and beloved LAIKA Goliath.

To note, I Am Frankelda is a prequel to Arturo and Roy's Cartoon Network Latin America show, Frankelda's Book of Spooks—but background knowledge is not required. We meet "Frankelda" before she's a frigid blue specter, as Francisca Imelda (voiced by Mireya Mendoza). Hers is a life of tragedy: mama dies at a young age, grandma is a witchy villain, and no one will listen to her horror stories. Francisca is 1866's Mexican adolescent answer to Mary Shelley, one day aspiring to be a famous genre author. But she has an even greater calling. An underworld realm, known as Topus Terrenus, needs a new nightmare teller—and Prince Herneval (Arturo Mercado Jr.) believes "Frankelda" would be a perfect fit.

From here, we're transported to Topus Terrenus for the majority of the film. Francisca's fleshy body remains on Earth, while Frankelda galavants with Herneval about the lush hellscapes of the royal son's home world. A robust roster of demonic “chiefs” wander gothic-decked halls from Procustes (Luis Leonardo Suárez), a rotund tarantula hybrid who's jealous of Frankelda's talents, to skeletal horse entities or pinkish gremlin goobers. I make the Psycho Goreman comparison because no nightmare creature looks the same, vibrantly designed to mirror Mexican folklore. There's an immaculate dedication to visual appeal not only in the original characters but also in the haunted decor and fantastical lands of Topus Terrenus.

Frankelda's journey is near and dear to any writer. She writes with energy and confidence, which makes her a target of the mediocre, specifically Procustes. She represents fresh, youthful ideas, while he clings to the traditions of old, unable to admit his inferiority. Frankelda is gutted to hear disinterested feedback about her stories, like any writer would, and struggles with discouragement—but I Am Frankelda is about protecting your flame and writing your own story. There will always be those who try to extinguish what burns inside us, threatened by individuality, and the Ambriz bros champion power in destinies and strength in our passionate beliefs. Not to mention teaching children who aspire to be writers the dangers of plagiarists and inevitable encounters with predatory competition, while preaching the importance of imaginative fiction.

That said, there's a chunkiness to I Am Frankelda; hardly the cleanest stop-motion application. You might have seen Cinema Fantasma’s handywork on Adult Swim's Women Wearing Shoulder Pads, but if not, it's a bit Robot Chicken-y in comparison. Jumps in stop-motion movements are larger than expected, and the methods of illustration vary across figurines, practical props with costumed hands, spinning toys, and other ways that don't always flow together. There's an anarchic approach to I Am Frankelda that bounces around artistically, which can be exciting but also restrictive. The way one-dimensional backgrounds look one-dimensional, or even shading changes in a few seconds, reflects this do-it-yourself quality that stymies certain shots.

However, that's also I Am Frankelda's charm. No one's hiding how cotton fluff mimics clouds, or paint jobs are cruder, or how tiny-tailored clothes don't exactly fit. Arturo and Roy lean into imperfections as if they were badges of honor, proud of each frame for merely existing. There's so much to I Am Frankelda—a family-friendly figurine musical with supernatural emphasis. The Nightmare Before Christmas makes such a production look easy, but that's why I respect I Am Frankelda. It's made with love, promotes a heartwarming story, and doesn't shy away from seeing its vision through by any means possible while rewarding the audience.

It's true that I Am Frankelda isn't Paranorman or Coraline, but that's just fine. Arturo and Roy prove there's a space for stop-motion outside the upper echelon of releases. I Am Frankelda doesn't skimp on wickedness and whimsy, and the concept doesn't waste any chance to bring devious designs to life. It's maximalist filmmaking on a budget, unable to be contained for better and worse. But even at its messiest, I Am Frankelda is a pure delight that might inspire a whole new generation of stop-motion filmmakers to stop worrying about being the next LAIKA and just be themselves.

Film Score: 3.5/5