WondLa

The Geometry of Belonging

In the modern landscape of animation, where the race for photorealism often outpaces the pursuit of soul, *WondLa* (2024) arrives as a curious artifact. Adapted from Tony DiTerlizzi’s illustrated trilogy, this Apple TV+ series sits at an uncomfortable intersection between the tactile wonder of the source material and the sleek, sometimes sterile polish of Skydance Animation. Under the stewardship of showrunner Bobs Gannaway, the story of Eva Nine—a girl raised in a bunker who emerges into a world that no longer remembers humanity—is not merely a survivalist adventure. It is a meditation on the geometry of belonging, asking whether "family" is a biological imperative or an architectural construct we build from the wreckage of our lives.



Visually, *WondLa* is a study in contrasts that doesn't always harmonize. The underground sanctuary where Eva (Jeanine Mason) spends her first sixteen years is rendered in Apple-store whites and soft curves, a suffocating utopia of safety. When she is inevitably thrust onto the surface of Orbona, the color palette explodes into bioluminescent purples and verdant greens. The animation attempts to bridge the gap between DiTerlizzi’s intricate, etched style and the rounded, toy-ready aesthetics favored by modern CGI. While the environments are lush, creating a sense of scale that effectively dwarfs our protagonist, the character designs occasionally feel too polished, lacking the grit one might expect from a world that has composted human civilization.



The series finds its true pulse not in its action set pieces, but in the central relationship between Eva and Muthr (Teri Hatcher). The "robot parent" trope is well-trodden ground in science fiction, yet *WondLa* manages to extract fresh pain from it. Muthr is not just a machine; she is a relic of a dead world, clinging to protocols that no longer apply. The scene where Eva rejects Muthr’s programming, only to later realize the terrifying vulnerability of her caretaker, is the show’s emotional anchor. It elevates the narrative above a standard "chosen one" journey, transforming it into a story about a child outgrowing a parent who was never designed to let go.

However, the series struggles with the weight of its own pacing. At only seven episodes, the first season feels simultaneously rushed and decompressed, often prioritizing kinetic chases over the quiet, eerie solitude that made DiTerlizzi’s books so haunting. The introduction of companions like the gruff alien Rovender Kitt (Gary Anthony Williams) and the giant water bear Otto adds necessary warmth, but their development often feels expedited to hit the next plot beat.



Ultimately, *WondLa* is a visually ambitious entry that succeeds when it allows its characters to breathe within its vast, alien landscapes. It may not fully capture the illustrative magic of the books—swapping cross-hatching for subsurface scattering—but it retains the core melancholy of the original text. It suggests that in a universe teeming with life, the most alien thing of all is the human desire to find a mirror image of oneself. While it may not revolutionize the genre, it offers a sincere, beautifully rendered argument that home is not a place you find on a map, but a connection you forge in the dark.