For its painstaking physicality alone, stop-motion is inherently impressive as an animation technique, regardless of the scale or budgetary specifics of the project. But when artists, like those behind the ambitious spooky musical “I Am Frankelda,” are careful to construct an imposing universe to animate frame by frame, one can’t help but feel completely in awe — warts and all.
Gothic sets with baroque architecture – which not only catch the eye but make one wonder how they were designed – serve as a backdrop for similarly ornate puppets in the first stop-motion feature film produced entirely in Mexico (Guillermo del Toro’s Oscar-winning “Pinocchio” was only partially made in the director’s home country). Through their studio Cinema Fantasma, brothers Roy and Arturo Ambriz first introduced their morbid heroine in the series “Frankelda’s Book of Spooks” for HBO Max in 2021. This feature film serves as a prequel to that series, delving into the origins of Frankelda’s connection to her sensitive book and romantic interest Herneval, while he was still an otherworldly royal.
An orphaned child dreaming of becoming a writer in 19th century Mexico, young Francisca Imelda (voiced as a child by Habana Zoé), creates frightening stories and characters, including Herneval (Juan Pablo Monterrubio), a prince of her age in the Kingdom of the Scary, an alternate reality inhabited by all her fictional creations. However, the extravagant kingdom of Herneval, Topus Terrentus, is in danger of disappearing because people in the real world are no longer afraid of fiction. Human fear, similar to that of “Monsters Inc.” works, is the lifeblood of “ghosts” (which come in two breeds, one resembling a bird and one arachnid).
Burdened with the expansive mythology and mechanics of this realm of storytelling, “I Am Frankelda” may seem a little narratively dense, but its many visual pleasures continually hypnotize. Each space appears lovingly handcrafted, often making us aware of the materials used in their painstaking craftsmanship. Viewers who expect the pristine aesthetic and movement of works by groups like Laika or Aardman might find the animation here less fluid and the production design slightly less polished. But given that the Ambriz brothers undertook such an elaborate story involving supernatural puppets and a fantasy land, probably for a fraction of the cost, the result represents a major advancement for the medium, and particularly for this technique in Mexico. If “Go big or go home” was a film, this one does the trick.
Disillusioned by the rejection she faces in her life, when Francisca Imelda enters the realm of ghosts, now 10 years old but still an unpublished author, she reinvents herself as Frankelda (now voiced by Mireya Mendoza). Among the multitude of ostensibly designed characters are also a group of antagonists, namely Procrustes (Luis Leonardo Suárez), the royal “nightmare” and a mediocre writer assigned to write the human nightmare, as well as the leaders of the kingdom’s seven clans, a band of villainous monsters designed to resemble entities from folk tales. To save his sick parents and subjects from this band of traitors and oblivion, the adult Herneval (Arturo Mercado Jr.) needs Frankelda to write scary stories.
The fact that the jealous Procrustes seeks to take credit for her work relates to the overarching themes of “I Am Frankelda,” namely the belief that by writing fiction, Frankelda is taking the reins of her life and finding the empowerment that outside forces denied her as a woman in the male-dominated field of dream-making. It is the power of her pen that will ultimately save her. As is often the case in bifurcated narratives set between two distinct planes of existence, the characters in the Realm of Ghosts also have their corresponding counterparts in Frankelda’s reality. Through it all, the specifically colloquial quality of the dialogue and the lively voice delivery preserve the film’s Mexican identity.
One of the two notable numbers takes place when Frankelda first crosses and reconnects with Herneval. The two sail on a ship that seems inspired by alebrijes (vibrant sculptures of imaginary creatures) and sing the song “Yo Ya Había Estado Aqúi” (“I’ve Been Here Before”), while ghostly hands imitate fog. Invoking “A Whole New World” from Disney’s “Aladdin” with a more pronounced lyrical vibe, the emotion of the song straddles a desire for discovery and the realization that she knows this place well (she materialized it from her imagination after all). For this sequence, the Ambriz brothers transcend stop-motion and add flourishes that remind the viewer of the film’s tactile design: a pop-up storybook recounting the scene and glass figures representing Frankelda and Herneval appear as a sort of visual interlude during their belting.
Later, with palace intrigue in full swing and Frankelda and Herneval experiencing an emotional schism, the villains take the spotlight with the song “El Príncipe de los Sustos” (“The Prince of Ghosts”), in which they denounce how they believe Herneval has wronged them. Although he appears in earlier scenes, this issue features several moments created with hand-painted animated frames for an effect reminiscent of a moving oil painting, similar to the way the Oscar-nominated “Loving Vincent” was brought to life.
Mexico’s answer to “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” the Ambriz brothers’ magnificent “I Am Frankelda,” was obviously influenced by Del Toro’s dark, fanciful work; so it makes sense that the “Frankenstein” director was a support and mentor to these young compatriots in their quest for stop-motion greatness. They are well on their way.
