The independent film studio A24 conjured up its recipe for success as a response to the oversaturation of mediocrity in movies, an unconventional template to produce guaranteed avant-garde goodness. For a while, it resulted in some of the most important and original films of the 21st century. Nowadays, however, this remedy to the blockbuster sludge machine has produced its own kind of schlock — experiences that look gorgeous yet feel hollow at their core. “The Legend of Ochi,” released in theaters nationwide on April 25, might just be the most egregious example of this trend.
The film follows the Ochi, a reclusive group of creatures who live on the island of Carpathia. Also residing on the island is a young farm girl named Yuri (Helena Zengel). Her father, Maxim (Willem Dafoe), raised her to perceive the creatures as a threat. This belief is challenged when Yuri finds a wounded baby Ochi in the forest, prompting a hero’s journey to reunite the baby with its family and avoid Maxim and his scouts as they hunt for wild Ochi.
The film’s technical aspects are, bar none, the best part of it. In an era of movies riddled with CGI monstrosities, the Ochi are brought to life through the rare use of animatronics and puppetry. Each movement — from the blinking of an eyelid to their mouths opening and growling — is infused with intricacy. Their eyes have a physical shimmer that you can’t obtain with a computer. The tangibility of the Ochi is a prime example of why practical effects work better than CGI. It’s a labor of love that is on full display in the film and is difficult not to admire.
The cinematography is just as breathtaking. Shot with digital cameras but edited to have a celluloid aesthetic, the film looks vintage while still retaining that signature A24 arthouse vibe we know and love. This is coupled beautifully with the film’s stunning set pieces, many of which were built practically. While sets like the village’s mountainside are clearly a real location, something as quick as an establishing shot of the island was made using a classic film technique known as traditional matte painting, which contributes to a different feel than CGI.
But while the visuals all look great, the screenplay is a half-hearted rehash of much better films that preceded it. It steals so much of its charm from Spielbergian family films that E.T. himself could probably sue for copyright infringement if he wanted to. Even worse is that, once everything is said and done, the film is a chore to sit through. What should be a tight 90-minute runtime ends up feeling like three hours. Character development is nonexistent, even from the protagonist Yuri. Scenes play out with no rhyme or reason, with the worst of them all being set inside a grocery store. It’s all pointless and unfortunately boring to watch.
Beyond prioritizing style over substance, there is something else fueling this film’s dullness. Similar to the Minions or Baby Yoda, the marketable plushability of the Ochi is so glaringly obvious that they might as well have price tags incorporated into their character design. They exist not as characters, but as a brand that sells keychains and tees to A24 shills who blindly hit “buy now” on whatever merch the studio churns out. While this is standard practice in most studio blockbusters, it’s disappointing to see this consumerist culture seep into indie films.
That’s ultimately what holds “The Legend of Ochi” back from greatness. Its immaculate craftsmanship is outshone by a cluttered, by-the-books story that we have all seen before. Furthermore, it’s a retelling that grows painfully boring after a short time. For diehard A24 fans, this is unmistakably a part of their contemporary identity. From the luscious and symmetrical cinematography to the booming score, you’ll find much to enjoy if you’re fond of the studio’s prior output. For everyone else, this is pretty much Gen Z’s “Mac and Me.”
Jacob Bernardino is an Arts & Entertainment Intern for the spring 2025 quarter. He can be reached at bernarj2@uci.edu.
Edited by Drew Askeland