Name: Orion and the Dark
Genre: Animation, Family, Comedy, Fantasy
Released: 2024-02-01T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Jacob Tremblay, Paul Walter Hauser, Angela Bassett, Colin Hanks, Natasia Demetriou

When Dark dissolves into daylight on that mountaintop, Orion and the Dark forces you to confront something far more unsettling than a child’s nighttime fears: the irreversible consequences of those fears, and the emotional wreckage they leave behind. This isn’t just another animated outing about facing your phobias—it’s a film that dares to explore guilt, regret, and the ripple effects of anxiety on both the self and others. Based on Emma Yarlett’s 2014 children’s book and adapted by Charlie Kaufman (yes, that Charlie Kaufman), this DreamWorks/Netflix hybrid is a strange, unsettling, and surprisingly profound journey through the night, directed with fluid precision by Sean Charmatz.

The film’s opening moments set the tone: Orion (Jacob Tremblay), an 11-year-old boy with an extensive list of irrational fears, scribbles in his diary about his anxiety over a planetarium field trip. His voice is shaky, his words stumbling over each other—Tremblay nails the nervous energy of a child on the verge of a panic attack. When Dark (Paul Walter Hauser) appears in Orion’s bedroom after a sudden blackout, the film doesn’t just introduce us to its titular characters; it plunges us into a world where fear isn’t abstract but tangible, a sentient force with its own voice and presence.

Hauser’s performance is particularly noteworthy. Dark isn’t your typical cartoon villain—he’s weary, melancholic, even a little sad. His voice carries the weight of centuries, as if he’s been carrying the burdens of every anxious child who’s ever feared the dark. When he offers to take Orion on a journey through the night to help him overcome his fears, it’s not out of malice but exhaustion. “I’m tired of you complaining about me,” Dark admits, and there’s something heartbreakingly human in that confession.

Their adventure takes them through a surreal landscape populated by other night entities: Sleep (Natasia Demetriou), Insomnia (Nat Faxon), Quiet (Aparna Nancherla), Unexplained Noises (Golda Rosheuvel), and Sweet Dreams (Angela Bassett). Each character is voiced with care, but it’s Bassett who steals the show. Her voice exudes warmth and wisdom, a soothing presence in a world that often feels chaotic.

The film’s animation is where Orion and the Dark truly shines. Charmatz and his team craft a visual feast—shadows stretch and twist, stars twinkle with personality, and the night itself feels alive. When Orion first meets Dark, the camera lingers on their faces, capturing the nervous tension between them in a way that’s both intimate and unsettling. Later, when Orion helps Sweet Dreams weave dreams for sleeping children, the screen bursts into vibrant colors, a stark contrast to the monochrome landscapes of fear.

But Orion and the Dark isn’t just about pretty visuals or charming voice performances. It’s a film that grapples with complex themes—anxiety, guilt, redemption—in ways that feel both fresh and deeply resonant. When Orion inadvertently causes the night entities to abandon their duties, the consequences are immediate and devastating. Without darkness, the world descends into chaos: plants wither, animals panic, and humans struggle to function. It’s a powerful metaphor for how unchecked anxiety can disrupt not just your own life but the lives of those around you.

The film’s framing device—adult Orion (Colin Hanks) telling this story to his daughter Hypatia—adds another layer of depth. At first, it feels like an afterthought, a way to tie up loose ends in a neat bow. But as the narrative unfolds, it becomes clear that this is where Orion and the Dark stumbles. The transition between adult Orion’s story and Hypatia’s rewriting of the ending isn’t as seamless as it could be, and some viewers might find themselves scratching their heads at the sudden shift in tone.

The film also struggles to balance its darker themes with moments of levity. The nighttime adventures can feel episodic, bouncing from one fear to another without enough time to fully explore the emotional weight of each encounter. At times, the pacing feels uneven, and some scenes—like Orion’s brief encounter with Light (Dark’s nemesis)—could have benefited from more development.

Yet despite these flaws, Orion and the Dark is a film that demands attention—not just for its animation or its performances, but for its willingness to tackle complex emotions in a genre often dismissed as simple. It’s not afraid to explore the messy, irreversible damage that fear can inflict, and it does so with a level of honesty that’s rare in children’s media.

In the end, Orion and the Dark is a film about more than just facing your fears—it’s about learning to live with them, understanding their power, and recognizing that sometimes, the scariest monsters are the ones we create ourselves.