Missing Link Is a Monstrously Fun Adventure

It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of Laika films. I count every one of their movies among my personal favorites. Each new movie finds a way — usually visual, often emotional — to surpass the previous film.

So how does Laika follow up a masterpiece of visual storytelling and emotional impact like their last movie, Kubo and the Two Strings?

By going in an entirely different direction with Missing Link. It’s one part fish out of water comedy and one part rousing adventure quest, pairing well-worn tropes with stunning set pieces, amusing characters, and sheer joy. Missing Link aims for exuberant, crowd-pleasing fun and hits the mark.

Deep in the heart of Edwardian-era London, intrepid adventurer Sir Lionel Frost is desperate to bag a mythical creature and secure his place in the exclusive, snooty Optimates Club. After a rip-roaring run-in with everyone’s favorite Scottish loch monster, Sir Lionel (voiced with a surprisingly good upper-crust Eton accent by Hugh Jackman) receives a mysterious letter explaining where he can find Sasquatch. Seeing his chance to secure his legacy, he brings the news to the Optimates Club, where his unflappable self-assurance lands him in a do-or-die wager with the pompous, thoroughly retrograde Sir Piggot-Dunceb (voiced with sinister self-importance by Stephen Fry). The bet sealed, Frost is off to the Pacific Northwest via sea, rail, and horse; in a delightful nod to Raiders of the Lost Ark, his journey is traced across North America on an antique map with a ruler, compass, and pen.

After a improbably short search, Frost locates the elusive evolutionary missing link, Sasquatch, an overgrown manchild (voiced with enthusiasm by overgrown manchild Zach Galifianakis). Mr Link, as he’s dubbed, is lonely for other creatures like himself. He and Frost strike a bargain: Frost will help find his hidden Yeti cousins if Link agrees to be proof that, well, he exists. The only person who can help them find the Yetis is Adelina Fortnight (Zoe Saldana), a strong, self-assured Spanish widow who has a conveniently inconvenient history with Frost. Their quest to mythical Shangri-La takes them through a nightmarish North Atlantic storm, a seemingly endless stagecoach ride, and a visually stunning elephant ride through India. Along the way, they have several run-ins with the thoroughly menacing Stenk (a perfectly cast Timothy Olyphant), Sir Piggot-Dunceb’s wicked henchman before finally meeting the wickedly funny Yeti Elder (voiced to clipped, haughty perfection by Emma Thompson).

It’s hard not to compare Missing Link to previous Laika films. It doesn’t have the emotional poignancy and narrative force of Kubo, the absurd whimsy of Boxtrolls, or the macabre brilliance of Coraline. The story is engaging but a little threadbare. That sounds like damning with faint praise, but far from it.

Rather, Missing Link is the most accessible, mainstream Laika film yet. It combines hysterical slapstick comedy and subtle, nod-nod, wink-wink humor. It gleefully shows off incredible set pieces, some with real edge-of-the-seat tension, some with non-stop laughs, and some with both. Seen plenty of wild west bar fights in movies? Not until you’ve seen one with an imperturbable Brit in colorful tweeds, an awkward, talking Bigfoot, and a moose head.

Somehow, the cinematography in Missing Link transcends the limitations of stop-motion animation filmed on a small sound stage. In addition to the usual small sets, there are some truly cinematic scenes: Loch Ness is as huge as it’s saurian monster, and the aerial shot of a lone stagecoach, tiny in a vast, barren desert, is straight out of a classic John Ford movie. Like all Laika films, it’s visually stunning.

There’s a strong whiff of White Saviorism to the story. Only the perfectly British Englishman Sir Lionel can help Mr Link find his family, in the Himalayas of all places, all while learning valuable lessons about humility and selflessness from his furry and brown friends. Thankfully, veteran Laika director Chris Butler employs this with intention: rather than simply glorifying the hero, Butler gently mocks the trope, wringing humor from it by skewering the type of Brit who would inhabit Kipling’s “White Man’s Burden” without being vicious to his characters. The English explorers are cartoonish, puffed-up blowhards; the damsel is never really in distress, and despite occasional eyelash-fluttering, refuses to fall for our hero’s charming overtures; and the simple, backwoods creature saves everyone more than once. It’s a self-conscious trope that makes fun of its own cliche.

Parts of the story are absurd. How can Mr Link speak and read English? How can Frost find him so quickly in a vast, dense, uncharted forest? How do a band of Yetis create a lush, green valley high in the mountains of Nepal … and how can they all speak English? Never mind; the absurdity is part of the joke, setting up ridiculous situations because, when played right, ridiculous situations are incredibly funny. And Missing Link does just that, filling a charming screwball comedy with action, adventure, laughs, and a monstrously huge helping of fun.

Missing Link (Laika Entertainment / Annapurna Pictures; rated PG; 1hr 35mins) Grade: A-