About “Coraline” in a few words:

“Coraline” is a visually stunning and evocative animated movie directed by Henry Selick, based on Neil Gaiman’s novel. Venturing into a mysterious alternate reality, young Coraline Jones confronts a world eerily similar yet disturbingly different from her own. Here, she must face her fears and challenge an insidious antagonist who wishes to keep her forever. With its unique animation style and a gripping storyline, “Coraline” is a mesmerizing blend of fantasy and horror.

Meet the characters from Coraline

Coraline Jones

Coraline is this brilliant little hurricane of curiosity who barges into everything with a yellow raincoat and the absolute confidence of someone six feet tall in her head. She’s brave as heck (sometimes foolhardy), stubborn, fiercely independent, and also weirdly sentimental about small things — buttons, little trinkets, tiny drawers — like she hoards memories. Loves to explore, hates being bored, will argue with you about whether a spider is cute (she says yes, sometimes) and can flip from delighted to furious in the space of a hiccup. In the story she’s the one who notices the wrongness, refuses to look away, and drags everyone into the fight whether they asked for it or not.

The Cat

The Cat is the slick, aloof narrator I want as a friend — dry, sarcastic, always three steps ahead and apparently immune to obvious danger, which is suspicious but also comforting. It slides between worlds like it’s changing jackets and speaks like it knows too many secrets (and it probably does), but it also has this weird soft spot that it denies until the last possible second. Not exactly affectionate, more like “I tolerate you” energy, though it definitely chooses who it helps — and when it helps you, it’s quietly fierce. Oh, and it’s impossibly stylish for a cat (black, moody, with the kind of eyes that imply ancient grudges and very good jokes).

Other Mother

Other Mother is the horror-movie version of welcome-home cookies — terrifyingly perfect, sickeningly sweet, and able to sew you a grin that never quite reaches her eyes (because, well, button eyes, duh). She’s the dictator of domesticity: immaculate house, endless attention, absolutely zero respect for your actual life choices — she wants you to be hers, and that’s the part where it goes very wrong. She’ll dote and fuss and then demand your soul; she’s borderline maternal but like, in a way that should make you run not hug. Incredible manipulator, loves control, and has this uncanny ability to make ordinary things feel claustrophobic — and yes, she bakes, but sometimes the cookies whisper.

Mr. Bobinsky

Mr. Bobinsky is the eccentric neighbor who acts like he’s still touring with a tiny, polite circus in his head — proud of his performing mice (who are definitely more professional than he is), he speaks in enthusiastic bursts and possibly a faint accent that shifts by sentence. He’s dramatic, very literal, slightly oblivious to normal social cues, and utterly, endearingly committed to whatever bizarre hobby he’s into that week (mice choreography, trampoline art, interpretive hat-wearing, take your pick). Sometimes he seems like comic relief, but there’s real warmth there — he cares, just expresses it by shouting about jumping mice at odd hours. Also, he might live in a barrel or a blue room or both depending on the retelling, and honestly that’s part of the charm.

Wybie

Wybie is the awkward, well-meaning kid who is equal parts nosy and loyal, the kind of friend who hands you a creepy doll and then regrets everything but stays to help fix it. He’s clumsy in conversations, a bit oblivious to social cues, but when it counts he’s stubbornly brave (also slightly prone to making things worse before making them better). He collects strange trinkets, tells too much, and has a face that reads “sorry” and “I know something” at the same time — which is useful when secrets are involved. In the story he’s the reluctant sidekick/companion who actually does the heavy lifting emotionally, even if he grumbles about it loudly.