If you’re someone who regularly wakes up convinced your dreams would make a brilliant book or film, then I Am Frankelda may be right up your street. The first feature-length stop-motion film produced in Mexico, this visually striking fantasy from brothers Roy and Arturo Ambriz serves as a prequel to their 2021 TV series Frankelda’s Book of Spooks. Coming in at just over 100 minutes, and available in various dubs, it tells a compelling if quirky tale of stifled creativity, artistic ownership and embracing the unusual.
A musical disguised as a dark fantasy adventure, I Am Frankelda brings the terrors of childhood nightmares to life. The influence of uncredited adviser Guillermo del Toro can be felt throughout, particularly in the film’s affection for monsters, folklore and outsiders. While echoes of The Nightmare before Christmas, Coco, Inside Out and Monsters Inc are easy to spot, the impressive craftsmanship and particular visual ambition on display means that the Ambriz brothers still craft a world that feels distinctly their own.
That world is first glimpsed through Francisca Imelda (voiced in the Spanish-language version by Habana Zoé), an aspiring writer growing up in 18th-century Mexico under the care of her stern grandmother. Encouraged by the parting words of her late artist mother, Francisca writes stories for her peers, but her fascination with creepy creatures and macabre tales leaves her increasingly isolated.
One day, one of Francisca’s inventions seemingly comes to life. Herneval (Juan Pablo Monterrubio), an owl-boy prince plucked from her imagination, appears before her and introduces her to Topus Terrenus, a hidden realm beneath the human world that’s sustained by fear. Every corner of this underground kingdom brims with detail, from its bizarre inhabitants to the hallowed palace halls, home to an ageing royal family, aided by Procustes (Luis Leonardo Suárez), an eight-legged, eight-eyed Nightmare-Teller responsible for keeping humanity suitably frightened.
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As Procustes loses his touch and Topus Terrenus begins to deteriorate, the film neatly mirrors Francisca’s own frustrations. Years later, now voiced by Mireya Mendoza, she finds herself struggling to publish her work in a society reluctant to take female writers seriously. Her decision to adopt the pseudonym Frankelda cleverly reflects the experiences of countless women writers throughout history, from George Eliot to Robert Galbraith, and gives the fantasy an unexpectedly relevant edge.
When the now-adult Herneval (Arturo Mercado Jr) recruits Frankelda to become Topus Terrenus’s new Nightmare-Teller, the film shifts into a story about plagiarism and power, as the increasingly bitter Procustes attempts to imitate Frankelda’s writing to regain control.
For much of its first half, I Am Frankelda balances these ideas impressively, combining imaginative world-building with a touching story about creativity and belonging. Unfortunately, as the characters begin moving between dreams, nightmares and overlapping realities, the narrative becomes increasingly tangled. The mythology expands faster than the story can comfortably support, and what begins as an emotionally grounded fantasy gradually turns into a labyrinth of competing ideas.
Unlike del Toro’s Pinocchio, which benefits from a familiar framework, I Am Frankelda has to establish its mythology from scratch. The animators are clearly having fun, but they ask a lot of their audience, and it’s difficult to stay invested as the increasingly chaotic plot seems to make itself up as it goes along — particularly when the narrative starts veering into territory where someone’s consciousness can become a book.
While the score is largely forgettable, the musical sequences help propel the story forward and each set piece provides another stage for this remarkable animation. The standout number, Yo Ya Había Estado Aquí (or I Had Already Been Here), in which Herneval guides Frankelda through his extraordinary world, is packed with staggering detail and lingers in the mind long after the credits roll.
But even when the story stumbles, the craftsmanship never does. The animation is consistently mesmerising, littered with intricate details and inventive creature designs. It’s a touching tale with strong characters, visual spectacle and plenty of imagination. Only an overcomplicated second half, with its unsatisfying finale, prevents the film becoming the modern stop-motion classic it occasionally threatens to be.
Disclosure Day is released in cinemas on Wednesday 10 June 2026.
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