Like any good fairy tale, Coraline is about how the things you want are never the things you need. Neil Gaiman gets the power of folklore in a way very few modern writers do; I mean just look at the Sandman series where the main character, Dream, encounters characters from the Bible, Norse Mythology, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and the modern DC Universe. Nothing so grandiose in Coraline, at least not story-wise. The film itself is quite ambitious in vision, not just because it’s a huge stop motion world, but because it’s presented in sharp Real 3-D that makes the animation leap off the screen, and feel more tangible than anything cooked up by CG animators in the same medium.

Henry Selick proves he’s as adept in bring to life Gaiman’s word as he was Tim Burton’s in A Nightmare Before Christmas, which he also directed. Often compared to Alice in Wonderland, the original novella the film is based on has been awarded many times over, and considering the enthusiastic fan base for Gaiman, it’s needless to say that Selick was taking on a big load. But at times like this, there’s opportunity for achieving greatness in your own right. Selick’s screenplay alters some of the details slightly, but overall Gaiman’s flavour remains intact, but with the Selick flourishes present.

Selick’s true gift though is that despite the largess of the 3-D, Coraline still feels intimate and self-contained; as if you’re reading a story book by the fire. The imagination and vision of the film is astounding in its simplicity. Take the central conceit of the film: an alternate world found through a small, locked door, where Coraline’s bland and inattentive parents are replaced by fun and loving ones. The small difference of course being that the Other Parents have button eyes, a touch that’s almost as whimsical as it is creepy. As an adult you realize that there is something wrong with the Other Mother’s fawning and emotional blackmail with baked goods, but the kid in you gets why Coraline would buy it, despite warnings from the talking cat.

As a story focused and visual heavy work, Coraline is a wonder, however their does seem some degree of humanity lacking. There’s a bit of a failure to connect emotionally, as the main character becomes driven to escape from the Other world, not because of the latent evilness of her alternate mother, but because if Coraline wants to stay there then she too must take a pair of button eyes. And while the real world parents seem emotionally distant, Coraline is no prize herself; her treatment of neighbour kid Wybie, borders on the cruel sometimes, even after the Other Wybie repeatedly saves her, repeatedly. It’s hard to cheer for Coraline even though you kind of get her condition, but she doesn’t quite appeal in the same way as the innocent wonder of Oz’s Dorothy, or the clinical detachment of Alice in the Disney version of Wonderland.

But if can’t at least jive on how well Gaiman’s world is presented, then you should probably come back and watch the film again medicated. It’s certainly a trip, and one that’s wild with the 3-D, which always somehow manages to affect you on a subconscious level until Selick wants to give you a little nudge. It’s not quite for children, but it’s not an adult fairy tale in the vein of Pan’s Labyrinth either. There is some scariness, but nothing graphic, though I should add that a stage parody of Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus” may lead to an uncomfortable conversation about pasties. Mostly though, this will hit the Nightmare Before Christmas crowd where they live, and undoubtedly the Gaimanites will be satisfied also. As for the general public, we’re rarely treated to an animated film anymore that’s this textured and real, not to mention funny and creepy in equal measure.