The Legend of Ochi: A Dreamlike A24 Tale That Speaks to the Child Within

Directed and written by Isaiah Saxon, and starring Helena Zengel, Willem Dafoe, Emily Watson, and Finn Wolfhard. A24’s The Legend of Ochi is another entry in the fantasy genre. It’s an emotionally layered journey that feels like a forgotten childhood memory come to life. With stunning visuals, practical effects, and a quiet but powerful emotional core, this film feels like a storybook stitched together with real feelings like grief, wonder, loneliness, and the fierce desire to be loved.

At its heart, Ochi is a film about a child navigating the emotional fallout of divorce. Through fantastical creatures and breathtaking landscapes, it explores what it means to grow up in a fractured family when parents are no longer united, and a child is left to interpret what love looks like between the cracks.

The Legend of Ochi is a Story About Divorce

While The Legend of Ochi takes place in a mythic world, its emotional stakes are grounded. Helena Zengel plays Yuri, a young girl caught between two very different parents: a father full of radical ideas and mystical intensity, and a mother hardened by survival, distant but not indifferent.

The film never explicitly spells out the separation, because it doesn’t need to. The emotional tension speaks for itself. Yuri doesn’t want to take sides. She just wants to be seen, understood, and cared for.

Real Mountains and Magic

One of the most extraordinary aspects of Ochi is its commitment to authenticity. Filmed in the Carpathian Mountains of Transylvania, the landscapes are tangible, textured, and alive. The use of practical effects and puppet animals gives the film a grounded weight rarely seen in modern fantasy.

This choice pays off. The world feels lived-in, handcrafted, and rich with atmosphere. You can almost smell the mountain air, feel the texture of moss, and hear the quiet sounds of a world still in balance.

David Longstreth's hypnotic score infuses the film with emotional resonance. It blends ambient tones with folk instrumentation and electronic whispers that feel both ancient and futuristic. The music is intrusive, and gets rather loud at times, overtaking the character's voices. It's like a heartbeat, pulsing in sync with Yuri’s quiet journey through this strange and sacred world.

The cast delivers across the board:

• Helena Zengel is luminous, her performance is subtle but emotionally powerful. Her silences carry more weight than most monologues.

  
  

• Willem Dafoe disappears into the role of Maxim, a father who believes he's a visionary but struggles with reality. He shifts between sincerity and deception effortlessly.

  
  

• Emily Watson brings a refreshing realism to the role of Dasha, a mother who doesn't coddle or explain herself, but whose quiet gestures, like brewing an aid to her daughter's bite, or carrying her up a mountain, speak volumes.

  
  

• Finn Wolfhard gives Petro a fragile sincerity. One line directed at him: “You’re only nice when no one is looking,” hits him like a gut punch and lingers through the rest of his performance.

  
  

There’s a spiritual connection between The Legend of Ochi and Spielberg’s E.T.. Both films center on a young child forming a bond with a wordless, misunderstood creature. Both explore emotional isolation, the desire for connection, and the silent language of empathy.

Ochi, like E.T., doesn’t need to speak. The relationship between Yuri and this magical creature is built on shared experience and mutual understanding. In a world full of conflict, they find peace in each other.

Whimsical, Yet Purposeful Worldbuilding

From dreamlike fish that recall Spirited Away to a surreal grocery store sequence that feels like a Wes Anderson fever dream, The Legend of Ochi is deeply referential without ever feeling derivative. It honors the storytelling traditions of Ghibli, Anderson, and even The Mandalorian’s Grogu, especially in how Ochi's general design. Everything in this world serves a purpose. The creatures, the weather, the environments, they all carry symbolic weight. Nothing is for aesthetic alone.

A Story That Trusts You

What makes The Legend of Ochi special is that it never over explains. It trusts the audience to sit in silence, to feel the discomfort of ambiguity, and to find meaning in the details. The Legend of Ochi is the kind of film I wish I had seen as a child. It’s weird and wonderful, honest and harsh, and full of a soft, aching beauty. It respects the intelligence of its viewers, both young and old, and leaves space for interpretation. It’s about growing up without growing cold. About finding love in strange places. And about how the most powerful connections are often the ones we don’t have words for.