Coraline is really one of those movies I can’t seem to get enough of: there’s always some minute detail that I see each time I re-watch it, from the technical to the artistic to the (un)intentional symbols that arise. For this article, I was inspired to revisit the opening title of Henry Selick’s Coraline after seeing this oddly engaging and grotesque film called Rabbit. Watching the stop-motion sequence, I noticed how incredibly macabre Selick framed and focused onto each detail, both foreshadowing the story yet to unfold and instantly setting the eery, non-Disney tone masterfully and originally depicted by Nail Gaiman. Here’s the video  and following the cut is the scene dissection analysis (edit: seems that YouTube isn’t allowing me to upload the clip, which is rather unfortunate. I guess the screenshots will have to do; for those who would like to have a mood emulated, listen to this song – it’s what plays during the opening title): 

Here, we see a doll floating into the window sill and two sharp, metal hands reaching out to grab and bring it inside. Already we know something’s odd: we do not see who is grabbing the doll, nonetheless why or how the doll is floating towards us to begin with. Many first viewers will not even notice that the doll is actually that of the previous child the Other Mother lured into her Other World; for veteran viewers, this is a clever ruse for catching the viewer’s attention, button eyes and all. 

The doll is placed onto the middle of a board, various sharp tools on either side. The placement of the sharp tools is no mistake: it is very likely Selick wanted to evoke classic surgical horrors, where the appearance of surgical tools make us feel uneasy immediately. Additionally, the board is not sanitary white, and is instead matted and old-looking – obvious signs of many previous usages, thus adding additional unease.

 The gross attention to the destruction and decomposition of the doll is the key macabre element of this entire opening sequence. There’s almost an disturbing obsession with what is being taken apart: the scissors ripping up the doll’s dress, framed to look like it is cutting up the spinal cord; the extreme close up focus upon the strands of hair being pulled out from the doll’s head, one stitch at a time; the surgical precision of removing both button eyes, a removal that is almost too quick and efficient; the grotesque focus on the doll’s mouth being ripped open, almost as if her cheeks are being slit open by a knife; the almost brutal removal of stuffing as if one were gutting an animal; and the quick, nearly mindless inversion of the doll inside out with a thrust of the needle hand leaves the now faceless doll hanging limp upside down, a moment almost too reminiscent of paintings depicting infanticide. We still do not see who is performing all of these actions, adding to the unease and unknown of everything we have seen thus far. 

The focus of the sand being poured into the doll’s mouth is a notably macabre element, echoing from historical episodes of torture by pouring hot substances down or into one’s mouths (or other orifices). While we can construe the sand as “giving life and weight” to the doll, notably the needle hands are holding back the head, making it look like the doll is being forced to ingest something – almost as if it’s being tortured into drinking something it does not want. 

Again, the doll is placed upon the surgical board, ready for the needle hands to do their bidding. Spread eagle, with both hands to the sides, the doll looks incredibly vulnerable, its abdomen spread wide and open in a sign of susceptibility. Placed next to the sharp tolls, there’s an eerie feeing that this doll is about to be poked and stabbed with some sharp things by needle hands. For those familiar with anatomical dissections, the doll is laid out in an appropriate position for such, again emphasizing the surgical horror elements of the sewing board. 

Selick’s focus on what needle hands is doing is grossly macabre for one strong reason: there’s always something sharp in frame, and we only see needle hands performing the tasks – no face, no figure, no nothing. From the threading of the needle to the threads going in and out of the doll (mouth, eyes), and even from the precise insertion of blue hair and the cutting and machine sewing of clothes – these aspects are focused in upon so closely that it’s even a bit violating to our senses: not many people pay attention to these kinds of details on a day-to-day basis, and there they are – projected right into our faces. 

As the newly sewn doll is let go out of the window, there’s almost a relief to see the new doll intact after the deconstruction and reconstruction process; however, this relief is short lived, for as the doll floats away there is a eerie reminder that we have not seen the face or figure, and for first time viewers there’s a eerie disconcertion about the role of this unknown character. And as the window closes, first time viewers are left to ponder what exactly the story will entail; for veteran viewers, it’s a eery and macabre foreshadowing done well.