Shaun the Sheep: The Beast of Mossy Bottom
Writers: Mark Burton, Giles Pilbrow
Directors: Steve Cox, Matthew Walker
Cast: Justin Fletcher, John Sparkes, Kate Harbour
Being a parent is hard enough without the burden of a near-crippling love of horror, but when things that go “bump” or “do you want a balloon?” in the night are your favorite obsessions, childrearing takes on one more wrinkle: what time in your kiddo’s life is best for introducing them to macabre fine cinema? Fortunately, just as we have educational programming, like Sesame Street, Peppa Pig, Pete the Cat, and Carl the Collector, to help our little ones learn their ABCs, their maths, and the ins and outs of being good people, we also have art that functions as a gateway to spookier interests, like, well, the Halloween episodes of Sesame Street, Peppa Pig, Pete the Cat, and Carl the Collector.
The “horror media for kids” canon is more expansive than that, of course, but even It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown loses luster after the umpteenth viewing; new scary stories for young’uns are therefore always in demand, and good ones are too rarely in supply. Happily, the folks at Aardman have added to that list of one-offs and films with their latest stop motion animated bucolic delight, Shaun the Sheep: The Beast of Mossy Bottom — a Shaun the Sheep joint in name and subjects, certainly, but broadly an ode to classic horror movies, as well as the fundamentals of what makes the sensation of a scare so pleasing. In a word, the film is a hoot. In a bunch of others, it’s a love letter to the genre that actually lives up to the descriptor.
Following an opening credits sequence in which the sheep of Mossy Bottom Farm dance the “Thriller,” we see that Shaun (Justin Fletcher) and the flock have kept a secret pumpkin patch hidden from the eyes of the Farmer (John Sparkes) and his sheephound Bitzer (also Sparkes); they’re dreaming of a bright Halloween lit by Jack-o’-lanterns, a cozy little scene for the most frightening time of the year. The Farmer, being a constitutional schlemiel, accidentally smashes the sheep’s prized gourds into a grisly, goopy mess, leaving Shaun to rescue the holiday by conducting homemade mad science on a bottle of the Farmer’s hair growth shampoo. If he can supercharge nature, Shaun reasons, they’ll have a fresh batch of pumpkins ready for carving before anybody can say “trick or treat.”
The ploy works too well, and the Farmer, unaware of Shaun’s meddling and desperate to reclaim the glorious locks of his youth so he can ask his crush, the Vet (Nina Sosanya), to Mossingham’s Halloween hoedown, goes a little too hard when applying the product to his dome. Before our very eyes, the Farmer ceases to be the cringy dork we know and love, and becomes Cousin Itt’s hulking, awkward rural cousin. There is, in fact, a beast roaming the woods surrounding the town and the farm; and of course, no one who can communicate in spoken language recognizes this ferocious behemoth as the Farmer. So it’s up to Shaun to undo the mess he’s made, commencing about an hour and twenty or so minutes of creepy slapstick, pratfalls, and hijinx wrapped around a horror film paean.
Shaun the Sheep: The Beast of Mossy Bottom expresses the same respect toward its critter characters as the show has done from the start; it only takes a single sheep to muck up Halloween for everyone, as well as to stave off complete disaster. But the film’s authors — directors Steve Cox and Matthew Walker, and screenwriters Mark Burton and Giles Pilbrow— give a lot of love to the human characters, too, in terms of both the sheer volume of sympathy they funnel toward our beleaguered Farmer and in terms of how the story centers his feelings for the Vet (and hers for him). There’s a lot of sweetness here, coupled with a relentless arsenal of visual gags and genre references that stop just before the edge of unadorned horror. Not at all surprisingly, the movie isn’t particularly scary. It is, however, very good at highlighting the joy of the genre. Being scared is good fun! Watching people get scared on screen is even better fun, though in the case of The Beast of Mossy Bottom, there are fewer people stricken by the heebie jeebies than barn animals, which, as it happens, is even more fun.
Because the riffs on and allusions to Frankenstein, The Mummy, Dracula, The Wolf Man, and other timeless horror pictures are steeped in an “amusement park haunted house ride” sensibility, The Beast of Mossy Bottom serves dual purposes as a meta horror-movie-about-horror-movies, and as a terrific introductory seminar in horror for younger generations. It’s the definition of a “something for everyone” picture; kids will be enthralled by Shaun and his ovine comrades’ bumbling heroism, adults will chuckle at the “one for the grown-ups” jokes, including a contemporary update on the pitchfork mob that trades torches for selfie sticks, and everybody will thrill at the effectively freaky details — if not in genuine fear, then out of an appreciation for the meticulous work that goes into Aardman’s craft in a moment where handmade artistry competes with digital slop. There’s nothing more terrifying than the thought of losing the traditions housed in The Beast of Mossy Bottom’s make and narrative. Fortunately, its very existence makes a good argument for keeping stop-motion and horror stories alive.
