By Zoe Hughes
Page Editor
Stop-motion movies may not dominate the screens today, but their impact and artistry remain unforgettable. Whether it was “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” “Chicken Run” or a “Wallace & Gromit short,” these films left a lasting impression. For many of us, these films were childhood staples, handcrafted worlds full of warmth, quirks and textures that computer animation cannot replicate. Yet in today’s era of sleek CGI, stop-motion and claymation are fading from the spotlight. That is a loss worth fighting against.
For decades, stop-motion thrived. The Rankin/Bass holiday specials became seasonal traditions, with “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” defining Christmas television for generations.
Tim Burton’s “The Nightmare Before Christmas” proved it could carry a feature film to both critical and commercial success. In the early 2000s, “Chicken Run” broke box office records for an animated film not produced by Disney or Pixar. Studios like Laika later pushed the craft forward with “Coraline” and “Kubo and the Two Strings,” films that dazzled critics and showed that stop-motion could still feel fresh in a digital era.
But as CGI grew cheaper and more flexible, studios pivoted. Digital animation allows massive scale, faster production timelines and fewer physical limitations. Audiences accustomed to hyper-smooth visuals began to see stop-motion as old-fashioned, even rough around the edges. Meanwhile, the cost of building sets, puppets and workshops, plus the scarcity of artists trained in these techniques, made it harder for stop-motion to compete.
Some argue that this is simply the march of progress. Why cling to a slower, riskier method when digital tools offer limitless possibilities? But that argument misses what makes stop-motion irreplaceable. Its tactile quality gives films a warmth and intimacy no algorithm can mimic. You can sense the texture of clay, the weight of fabric, the glimmer of light on wood. The imperfections do not detract; they remind us of the human effort behind the art.
There is also cultural memory at stake. Generations grew up with claymation specials and stop-motion creatures. These films are part of our artistic heritage, and letting them disappear would mean losing a vital chapter of animation history. Beyond nostalgia, stop-motion encourages creative problem-solving within constraints. It rests on the sameness that sometimes plagues CGI blockbusters, making space for quirkier, riskier storytelling.
Thankfully, the medium is not entirely gone. Laika continues to produce ambitious stop-motion features, while studios experiment with hybrid methods that blend 3D printing and digital enhancements with traditional frame-by-frame work. Independent creators like the YouTube channel “Stop Motion Creators” share stop-motion shorts on platforms like YouTube and TikTok, building audiences outside the traditional Hollywood system. There is clearly an appetite for stories told in this style; critics often rate stop-motion films higher than their CGI counterparts, even when they earn less at the box office.
So, how do we bring stop-motion back into the spotlight? Film schools should take inspiration from the California Institute of the Arts by incorporating the technique of handmade animation into their educational programs. Studios and streaming platforms should take more chances on stop-motion projects, even on smaller scales. Festivals and grants could highlight and fund experimental works. And most importantly, audiences can do their part: buy tickets, stream the films and show that there is still demand for this art.
CGI is not going anywhere, nor should it. But in the rush toward efficiency and polish, we risk losing the raw magic of frame-by-frame craftsmanship. Stop-motion deserves not just to survive, but to thrive again. Because smooth is not everything, and sometimes, the imperfections are what make the story unforgettable.
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