The Legend of Ochi Parents Guide

The Legend of Ochi is Rated PG by the Motion Picture Rating (MPA) for violent content, a bloody image, smoking, thematic elements and some language.

The Legend of Ochi – A Handcrafted Fantasy That Rekindles the Magic of Childhood Adventure

There’s something sacred about the way we remember the first stories that truly transported us. The ones that didn’t just entertain, but cracked open the world and whispered, “There’s more.” For many of us, those were films like The NeverEnding Story, The Dark Crystal, or Labyrinth—fantasies that felt tactile, strange, and deeply personal. With The Legend of Ochi, director Isaiah Saxon dares to step into that rarefied space, delivering a film that doesn’t just homage those classics—it breathes the same air.

Produced by A24 Ochi is a striking departure for the studio—a family film that feels like it wandered out of a dream from the early ‘80s, untouched by modern cynicism or digital fatigue. It’s a movie built from cloth and fur, dirt and wind. And most impressively, it’s done with zero CGI. In a time when even the smallest fantasy tale is rendered through pixels and post-production wizardry, Saxon’s choice to embrace puppetry feels almost revolutionary.

A World Built on Myth and Memory

Set on the fictional island of Carpathia—a lush, mountainous land that feels part folklore, part forgotten history—the film introduces us to Yuri (Helena Zengel), a sharp and curious girl growing up in the shadow of her father Maxim (Willem Dafoe). Maxim is a fierce leader of a rugged crew of boy soldiers, training them to hunt the elusive Ochi, strange simian-like creatures covered in vivid fur and emitting high-pitched, melodic vocalizations. These creatures are both feared and misunderstood, and Maxim, obsessed with controlling them, runs his home and crew like a war camp.

The opening sequence sets the tone in spectacular fashion: a night hunt lit by firelight, filled with tension, movement, and sound. There are gunshots, chaos in the trees, and the Ochi—graceful and ghostlike—darting through the canopy. It’s intense, almost primal. Rarely does a family film begin with such a sense of danger and awe. You can feel Saxon’s background in music videos here—he crafts sequences like visual poems, rhythmic and emotionally loaded.

But the real story begins when Yuri finds herself drawn away from her father’s world and into one of her own making. After stumbling upon a baby Ochi caught in a cruel hunting trap, she does what no one else dares to: she helps it. She bandages its leg, names it, and swears to return it to its mother. It’s a small act of rebellion, but one that reshapes everything.

One of the most remarkable turns in the story comes when Yuri begins to understand the Ochi—not through English or subtitles, but through mimicry and empathy. Their language is tonal and musical, and instead of simplifying this with lazy exposition, Saxon leans into it. Yuri doesn’t teach the creature English. She learns its language. This choice speaks volumes about the film’s underlying message: connection requires effort, and empathy often means listening rather than speaking.

There’s a pivotal sequence in a grocery store—a strange, dreamlike space that feels almost out of time—where Yuri is bitten by her new companion, triggering a synesthetic awakening. From that point forward, her journey with the baby Ochi becomes more than a physical trek. It’s a spiritual one. A pilgrimage of sorts—through forests, across mountains, and deep into the cultural fabric of Carpathia’s past and the emotional scars of her own family.

ALSO READ: A Minecraft Movie 

Willem Dafoe brings a fierce, almost mythical energy to Maxim. He’s a man broken by loss and rigid in his ideology, molding boys into soldiers and treating the world as something to conquer. There’s a grim poetry in his performance—a father who refuses to see the child in front of him because she doesn’t fit the shape of his expectations.

Emily Watson, as the long-absent Dasha, returns later in the film with a quiet, heartbreaking power. She’s the emotional counterbalance to Maxim—another adult who broke under the pressure of the world, but who chose to disappear rather than dominate. Her reentry into Yuri’s life brings with it the kind of intergenerational tension and healing that many animated films hint at but rarely explore with this level of nuance.

Finn Wolfhard, as Petro—a boy raised like a son by Maxim—adds a quiet layer to the narrative. His character isn’t showy or central, but his subdued performance grounds the film in a more realistic portrayal of growing up in someone else’s shadow.

And then, of course, there are the Ochi themselves.

These creatures are not just designed—they’re sculpted. Every twitch of their heads, every blink, every tiny gesture feels like the result of hours of loving craftsmanship. There’s no uncanny valley here. The fact that they are puppets—real, physical beings sharing space with the actors—makes all the difference. Like the Skeksis from The Dark Crystal, they don’t just exist in the frame; they have presence. You believe in them because the actors clearly do, too.

If there’s one stumble in this lovingly made journey, it’s the overuse of the film’s score by Paul Manalatos. To be clear, the music is often gorgeous—lyrical, haunting, and richly textured. But it’s also constant. In key scenes, especially during the more contemplative, non-verbal moments, it drowns out the natural rhythm of the story. There are times when you wish Saxon had more trust in the silence, in the breath between beats. The score, while beautiful, doesn’t always know when to step back.

A Return to Imperfect Magic

What makes The Legend of Ochi special isn’t just its originality—it’s the sense that it was made by humans for other humans, not by committees for content algorithms. It’s not a perfect film, and that’s exactly why it works. Its imperfections are part of its texture. You can feel the seams in the puppets, the grit in the cinematography, the occasional awkward moment in the pacing. But all of that adds to the illusion, rather than taking away from it. This isn’t manufactured magic—it’s earned.

At a time when even once-daring studios like Pixar are falling back on sequels and spin-offs, Ochi is a breath of wild, strange air. It’s a story of empathy, of seeing past the roles we’re given, of listening instead of labeling. It’s about breaking cycles—familial, societal, mythic—and choosing your own path forward.

The Legend of Ochi Parents Guide

Violent Content: The movie begins with an impressive and suspenseful hunting scene at night where the character of Maxim (played by Willem Dafoe) chases and kills Ochi creatures. This includes scenes of shooting, fighting, and fire scenes that may not be suitable for young children. The descriptions of violence are not very graphic but they are frequent and depict significant risk.

There are multiple scenes containing fairly explicit violence throughout the movie, most of which involve blood and injury with regards to the Ochi creatures. These creatures are harmed, and in one scene, there is a baby Ochi struggling to free itself from a hunting trap and Yuri helps the injured Ochi. This is perhaps why the film carries a PG rating because while it may not graphically show the creatures hurting people it is disturbing in its portrayal of violence.

There are also the uglier themes in some of the more spanning arcs of the story like Yuri’s rebellion against her father, Maxim, and her path towards emancipation. Unlike the first series, there is no imagery of violence, but the emotional and psychological conflict within Yuri and her family makes the anime appealing to the darker side.

Smoking: This is a brief scene in the movie where one of the main characters, Maxim (Dafoe), takes a snap of a cigarette and puffs on it. Smoking is not portrayed like it is cool, trendy or an important part of the story; however, parents may find this portrayal unsuitable for young viewers because of the recent tendency not to glamorize smoking in films.

Language: There is very little bad language in the movie, however there are some moments with profanities such as damn, and hell. They are said when a character is upset or showing signs of aggression and is usually employed by characters of a mature age. It’s not fully penetrative, but it may be useful to be aware for parents who prefer not to let kids hear the bad words at all for younger ones.