Essential Films for Animators

What movies should every filmmaker watch?  

Check out our first installment of Watch Party Essential Films for Filmmakers.

Stay tuned for upcoming guides to must-see films for photographers and writers.

Hedgehog in the Fog (1975) 

Dir. Yuri Norstein

Laden with metaphor, Hedgehog in the Fog is widely thought to be one of the best animations of all time. Somewhat appropriately, I first watched this film after I expressed to a friend that I was ‘in a fog’. I woke up to a text message linking to this film the next day. 

Made by Soviet/Russian animator Yuri Norstein in 1975, this animation follows Hedgehog as he walks to meet his friend Bear, bringing a carefully wrapped parcel of raspberry jam. On his journey, Hedgehog must walk through a fog where everyday creatures take on a supernatural presence. Hedgehog becomes disoriented, and must accept the guidance of other creatures to find his way back to his friend. The film’s images border on the supernatural, without explicitly claiming reference to any single mythology. At the time of its making, Norstein’s film would have had to pass through state censors, and some think that the film’s understated approach was a means to allude to the divine despite the anti-religious pressures of the soviet era. The result is a beautiful and spellbinding short with firmly existential themes. If you find yourself, as I occasionally do, in a Youtube rabbithole trying to find a good english translation of this film, know that your searching is time well spent. 

Coraline (2009)

Dir. Henry Selick

Based on the children’s book by the same name, Coraline is arguably non a children’s movie as it gave me jump scares when I first saw it in high school. Laika’s first feature film, Coraline follows the adventures of the eponymous blue-haired girl who reluctantly moves to a new place with her parents. A doppelganger doll shows up on her doorstep at her new house, crafted by a spidery ‘Other-Mother’ who inhabits a parallel universe accessed by a portal within the house. Coraline is lured to this new world, and then puzzles her way back to escape the Other-Mother’s manipulations. 

Shot in stop-motion with some digital intervention in post, this film’s characters are incredibly expressive and inhabit sets that seem like artworks unto themselves. A lot is said about the labour of animation, but what I appreciate about this film is its meticulous design–one memorable character design detail includes Coraline’s eccentric upstairs neighbour sporting a Soviet-era military service medal for heroism at Chernobyl. The film is full of clever reversals and beguiling illusions–among other wonders, there’s a hypnotic scene of a mouse circus which appears as a lights-out spectacle in the movie’s parallel world. Theatrical and creepy, Coraline exudes craftsmanship, even as its villain uses world-building as its own sinister trap.

Layl (Night) (2021)

Dir. Ahmad Saleh

I first saw this in a screening at the 2024 Ottawa International Animation festival in a special screening dedicated to depictions of war in animation. The programmers introduced the screening to specify that they had curated their films to focus on the experience of war, rather than show familiar propaganda film reels (Disney, for example, was commissioned to create short propaganda films during WWII.) 

Layl opens with a shot of a devastated city, and shows a mother looking for her child, unable to sleep. A voiceover speaks in Arabic, whispering that the night can never be taken away. Night, pictured as a girl, casts a spell on the mother so that she is able to sleep. While the film was made in 2021, it’s difficult to watch it now without making connections to Gaza. Layl, which means ‘night’ in Arabic, is a moving story of loss, and a powerful depiction of the horrors of conflict.

Invention for Destruction (1958)

Dir. Karel Zeman

Freely adapted from the fantastical images in Jules Verne novels like Facing the Flag, Karel Zeman’s Invention for Destruction is a film known for its distinct visual style. Many of the images in Zeman’s films combine drawing, animation, practical effects, and live action, and the design of Invention for Destruction is especially notable for borrowing from the graphic visual effects of etchings and wood-block prints used as illustrations in old Victorian novels.

Viewers of Invention for Destruction will see collage-like images that allude to meticulous planning and set design – many of the characters even wear costumes that echo the black and white striped pattern characteristic of the hatching in intaglio prints. Sequences of the film set underwater also combine film capture of aquarium creatures with animation, and the effect is mesmerizing. While Invention for Destruction is Zeman’s most successful film, his other works like The Fabulous Baron Munchausen are also worth watching for their expansion of his inventive visuals into colour. 

Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971)

Dir. Robert Stevenson

For better or for worse, I am entirely attached to the ‘cartoon + live action’ trope that saw its way into many 1960s and 1970s musicals, and Bedknobs and Broomsticks offers a generous helping of these scenes. Noted gay icon Angela Lansbury plays an apprentice witch who is studying her craft by mail-ordering course material to her small English coastal village. She becomes a reluctant caretaker to three children, relocated from London to escape the Blitz, who soon discover her ambitions. Together, they take up the task of finding the missing pages of an esoteric manuscript, the pages of which are key to Lansbury’s completed training, and which just might help Britain win the war. 

What I appreciate about this film is its approach to fantasy, which combines archetypal symbols of witchcraft (spells, cats, broomsticks) with more mundane set pieces. The titular ‘bedknob’ is the cast’s means of enchanted travel, which must be turned around and tapped on its original brass bedframe to send its occupants on their inter-dimensional journeys. In its firmly pre-CGI cinematic period, hand painted colours on film and practical effects animate the supernatural. As much as the film relies on live-action performance, the musical number ‘Substitutiary Locomotion’ (wherein Lansbury & co sing a melodic incantation to make a pair of shoes behave according to its own will) is a pleasantly accidental ode to the practice of animation. 

Wendy Whelan: Restless Creature (2016)

Dir. Linda Saffire and Adam Schlesinger

This selection is a bit of a pivot away from animation, but in the interest of noting the historic links between dance, choreography, and animation, I recommend watching this captivating documentary that follows Wendy Whelan’s final season at the New York City Ballet. 

Whelan was a legendary prima ballerina with a 30-year long career as a dancer at New York City Ballet. After the release of this documentary in 2016, Whelan was appointed as Associate Artistic Director at the company, but during the film her trajectory beyond a career as a dancer was unclear. The documentary blends archival footage with coverage of Whelan’s transformative final season, following Whelan as she undergoes and recovers from a hip surgery that ultimately allows her to resume dancing. 

Whelan’s description of the specific physical challenges of ballet add dimension to her performances within this film, where her movements show mature and virtuosic ability. Restless Creature is a worthwhile watch for Whelan’s vulnerability during a period of transition, and the film offers a compelling study of artistic identity during a major life shift. 

The Cameraman’s Revenge (1912)

Dir. Ladislav Starevich 

Say you’re a beetle with a nice domestic life, and you discover that your partner is unfaithful to you. What would you do? The Cameraman’s Revenge offers a parodic and non-human take on society’s animal instincts. This absurdist film follows the dalliances of its central beetle couple, and their resulting consequences–the titular ‘revenge’ is taken by a jealous grasshopper, who projects illicit footage of Mr. Beetle’s affair at the cinema. 

Se James and the Giant Peach creeped you out as a child, this film is perhaps not for you. The filmmaker Ladislas Starevich used real insects as his puppets, and their liveliness in animation is somewhat shadowed by the viewer’s awareness of their fragile state. Setting this aside, the film’s technical expertise is worth admiring – since the film was made in 1912, the insects’ movements and animation would have had to be planned without the benefit of the digital tools we have access to now. 

When I first watched this I couldn’t imagine the time and planning that would have been required to successfully pace the film’s action (being as dependent on Dragonframe software’s immediate playback as I am.) The Cameraman’s Revenge showcases the ingenuity and humour of early animation and filmmaking, with meta-commentary on film and voyeurism.  

Spirited Away (2001)

Dir. Hayao Miyazaki 

Spirited Away is among the most famous animated films produced by Studio Ghibli, and the fantasy narrative of the film endures. Spirited Away follows a 10 year old girl, Chihiro, as she and her family move to a new town. On their way to their new home, Chihiro’s parents become distracted by an abandoned resort town, where they stumble upon enchanted food and are transformed into pigs after eating it. As it becomes clear that they’ve fallen into the trap of a spirit town led by an authoritarian witch named Yubaba, Chihiro’s task is to adapt and survive in this new world until she can rescue her parents. 

Miyazaki’s intuitive approach to storytelling is showcased beautifully in this film, and the array of spirits within the film’s world connect to the animism of the Japanese Shinto religion. Miyazaki’s films often have an environmental theme, and while Spirited Away avoids a moralizing tone, the film cautions against human greed and pollution of the natural world. Studio Ghibli also happens to be a stronghold of hand-drawn animation, and Spirited Away is a must-see for any animator committed to traditional processes. 

The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness (2013)

Dir. Mami Sunada

As a follow-up to the previous, The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness is a look into Ghibli studio’s process. This documentary offers fascinating insight into Ghibli’s history, with archival footage mixed in with coverage of The Wind Rises (2013) which was in production during the 3-year period of the documentary’s filming. Its title is a hint at the documentary’s framing–Hayao Miyazaki appears in this film as an established genius-eccentric whose exasperated quips (such as “filmmaking only brings suffering” and “why must I still draw at 70”) serve as gentle-humoured affirmation to the artists observing his working process. In Miyazaki’s psyche, frustration and whimsy go hand-in-hand. 

Appropriately escapist in and of itself, the setting of the documentary invites viewers to explore the Ghibli studios and grounds, as well as Miyazaki’s home studio (where at one point, he collects a series of life-size baby goat figurines left on his windowsill, rescued from the end of a ‘Heidi’ exhibit because Miyazaki couldn’t bear to see them sit in storage.) Miyazaki threatens to retire at the end of this film, as is his habit, though Ghibli fans will note that the Oscar-winning animated feature Il Boy and the Heron was made and released following the retirement announcement which closes this documentary. A chill hang for animators and artists alike, this film is worth watching for the memes alone. 

Neighbours (1952)

Dir. Norman McLaren

Oscar winner for ‘Best Documentary Short Subject’ in 1952, Neighbours showcases many of McLaren’s innovations in animation and filmmaking. The film depicts two figures, who in parallel, begin to grow territorial and suspicious of each other, prompted by a flower that grows on the line bordering their respective properties.

The film uses a technique called ‘pixilation’, where live actors are used as subjects within stop motion animation. This technique lends a rhythm to the actors’ movements reminiscent of early filmmaking where the pace of the on-screen images appeared sped-up. In their dispute, the two neighbours in the film descend into comic violence. Neighbours’ cold-war era release implicates the conflict between Soviet powers and the west, however McLaren’s position as an NFB filmmaker in Canada also evokes the complex relationship between Canada and the US. Presented as an allegory of the tensions between nations, Neighbours is a classic example of the political dimensions of animation. 

After immersing yourself in these cinematic gems, it’s time to bring your own vision to the world. Whether you’re an aspiring animator, a seasoned director, or a burgeoning film student, showcasing your work is essential. Format offers the perfect platform for registi like you to create a stunning online portfolio.

With robust video hosting and embedding, you can seamlessly display your reels, shorts, and full-length features. Plus, Format’s customizable designs ensure your portfolio reflects your unique artistic style, making it easy for industry professionals and potential collaborators to discover your talent. Don’t let your incredible work go unseen—start building your professional film portfolio on Format today and let your films speak for themselves.

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