THE LEGEND OF OCHI. A love letter to 80s fantasy

Karpacja. A small, fictional island in the Black Sea. In the morning, shepherds lead their flocks of sheep to the pastures, children trudge along muddy paths to school, and church bells lazily call the faithful to mass. The idyll ends at dusk, when the titular Ochi come out to hunt. These round, furry creatures – part gorilla, part Yeti – feed on the blood of humans and animals. At least, that’s the story. Debuting on the big screen, Isaiah Saxon (previously known primarily for directing music videos, including collaborations with Björk) begins his film with a bang. After a brief introduction, he throws us straight into the action, staging a night hunt for the Ochi. The car is driven by Maxim (Willem Dafoe), the serious leader of the hunting party. In the back of the truck are his wards: teenagers with war paint on their faces, armed with firearms. Among them is Yuri (played by Helena Zengel, known from System Crasher and News of the World), Maxim’s daughter. She is the only one who is not fascinated by the idea of killing wild creatures: excitement mixes with fear on her face. “Will we see one today?” she asks shyly as she gets out of the vehicle. Contrary to the ideology taught by her father, Yuri is more interested in seeing Ochi alive than dead. So when, the next day, the girl finds a wounded young one in a trap, a victim of the previous night’s hunt, she doesn’t hesitate. She decides to take it safely home.

I won’t lie to you: you’ve seen this story before, at least a few times. In How to Train Your Dragon by Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders, The Iron Giant by Brad Bird, E.T. by Steven Spielberg. The formula is simple and recognizable from the very first frames of the film: a young outsider forms a deep bond with a member of another species, defying an oppressive society that sees other species only as threats. Saxon plays with known cards: he doesn’t take risks, sticking to a proven formula, sewing his debut together with numerous references and quotes. What saves him is the memory of perhaps the most important principle of the American film industry, often cited by Blake Snyder in his cult book Save the Cat: “Give me the same, but different.”

This crucial “different” in The Legend of Ochi primarily lies in the aesthetic realm. The film carefully builds a retro atmosphere, reminiscent of the new adventure cinema, specifically the fantasy films of the 80s that captivated audiences 40 years ago. The NeverEnding Story, The Dark Crystal, Labyrinth – you don’t have to read or watch interviews with Saxon to feel that it’s these films that shaped his upbringing. They are grand spectacles from the pre-CGI era, when special effects experts, stuntmen, and puppet masters (trained by Jim Henson) ruled the sets. Everything in The Legend of Ochi is designed to evoke the aesthetic of these productions: from the elegant, nostalgic shots by Evan Prosofsky, to the refined set design and costumes, all the way to the cherry on top – the beautiful animatronic puppets. To put it simply: even the design of the tiny Ochi makes you want to fall in love with the film. The ear-shaped creature looks like a cross between Gizmo and Grogu, yet remains a completely autonomous creation, distinguished by its melodious language. It seems likely that this sweet Ochi will follow in the footsteps of its predecessors and cement its place in pop culture history.

Interpreting The Legend of Ochi doesn’t pose many challenges. There are plenty of familiar themes: it’s a film about difficult communication – both interspecies and human-to-human, the unjustified fear of the unknown, the shaping of one’s identity, the crisis of patriarchy, toxic masculinity… You can add more to the list. While it’s clear that these themes are present in Saxon’s film, I personally prefer to think of The Legend of Ochi in more cinephilic terms. I see it as a tribute from a former viewer and now a budding filmmaker to the films of his youth, referencing them not only in tired content but also – and this is essential – in an original form. A few months ago, during an interview about Beetlejuice 2, Willem Dafoe compared the difference between computer-generated effects and practical effects to the difference between a handwritten love letter and one typed on a computer. The content may be the same, but the reception is entirely different. I don’t think I need to add that The Legend of Ochi was written by hand: with an exceptionally beautiful handwriting.