Erik Adams
Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl premieres on BBC One and BBC iPlayer December 25 and streams on Netflix beginning January 3. 2025.
Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl picks up on the stop-motion franchise’s goofy, breezy, gag-packed energy as if the last 16 years didn’t happen. Any worries of a cheap rehash banking on nostalgia can be ground into dust: Vengeance Most Fowl strikes the perfect balance of telling a new story about mild-mannered inventor Wallace and crafty canine Gromit while also playing the hits. We see the return of the most dastardly villain ever put to screen, as Feathers McGraw rears his very small, ugly, red-rubber-glove-capped head to expand on the evil schemes of 1993’s The Wrong Trousers. It makes for a story that feels imaginative and exciting, yet as cozy and warm as all Wallace & Gromit projects should.
Vengeance Most Fowl feels like Aardman Animations and directors Merlin Crossingham and Nick Park embracing tradition in more ways than one. First off, use of CG is minimal, with only one scene where it feels noticeable – but unlike last year’s Chicken Run sequel, Dawn of the Nugget, it’s never off-putting or distracting. As has always been the case with this series, the focus remains on the intimate: the small, homely northern English town; Wallace and Gromit’s comfy, slightly beige, slightly dusty home; and the little gadgets Wallace devises to solve the most minute problems. While the plot heightens by increment – penguin outlaw Feathers looks to break out of prison and once more seize control of Wallace’s inventions to steal the blue diamond he so covets – the small details are never forgotten.
Wallace’s latest creation – a robotic, gnome-shaped gardening tool named Norbot who’s quickly corrupted by McGraw’s boundless evil – shines a light on how incredible Vengeance Most Fowl’s character animation is. Being mechanical, the “smart gnome” has to move more stiffly than the people and animals on screen. Stiffness is an inherent trait of stop-motion, but Aardman’s house style is so supremely smooth and fluid that Norbot’s herky-jerkiness stands in stark contrast to the Looney Tunes-esque contortions everyone else around him is capable of. Vengeance Most Fowl is a showcase for the imperfect specificity of the handcrafted and only lightly technologically assisted – a lesson Aardman looks to teach its audience by teaching it to Wallace.
Vengeance Most Fowl is deeply unsubtle in its messaging – but in a way that’s self-aware and part of its ample charm. Wallace’s overreliance on technology manifests as a hilariously violent dog-petting machine and Norbot himself, both of which leave Gromit feeling isolated. Not only is Wallace putting physical barriers between himself and his pup, but he’s robbing Gromit of the joy of tending to his garden on his own terms. The effects are widespread: After Wallace starts marketing the dancing, creepily smiling Norbot, gardens across the town are given the same clean, geometric look – erasing any sign of horticultural individuality.
The dangers of overreliance on technology have been explored in films like Her and Ex Machina (to name just two examples from the recent past) and Vengeance Most Fowl doesn’t necessarily have anything new to say on the topic. Its eventual thesis that man and technology should find a healthy way to co-exist isn’t impactful, despite the fact that there’s no better medium for the message than stop-motion. It also acts as a commentary on Aardman’s internal balancing act between evolving animation tech and doing things the old fashioned way, and it makes complete sense why they would want to explore this territory. It just ends up being the weakest aspect of an otherwise cracking movie – a weakness easily overcome by the humor, the design, and breezy energy of Vengeance Most Fowl as a whole.
The look of the contraptions Wallace conjures up is, wisely, kept roughly the same as it was 35 years ago in A Grand Day Out. There’s always been a dose of ’80s futurism to the character’s inventions, a jittery, clunky way of solving simple issues that’s an endearing mainstay of these films. That continues in Vengeance Most Fowl: There isn’t a single iPhone or flat screen TV in sight – we’re in the age of hulking desktop PCs and chunky CRT TVs, all of which add to the tangibility of the film.
A vital ingredient to this stop-mo gumbo is an absolutely extreme gags-per-minute rate. Vengeance Most Fowl is unrelenting in its specific brand of “so stupid you can’t help but laugh” humor. Both in action sequences and regular conversations, the energy of the movie is maintained by its density of jokes, many of which come from the ungodly deeds of Feathers McGraw. This expressionless penguin is such a comic dynamo, the mere sight of him in a high-vis jacket is funny – a testament to how perfectly he’s designed as a character. Park and company also do a great job of avoiding the temptation to repeat bankable gags from previous Wallace & Gromit outings, instead finding new ways to heighten the stakes and subvert expectations. It makes for a joyful watch full of comedic surprises.
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