Over fifteen years ago, a little blue-haired girl crawled through a secret door and Henry Selik took the story and turned it into one of the best pieces of cinema. And honestly, I’m still not over it. Released in 2009, Coraline was marketed as a children’s film, but let’s be real, it’s the type of stuff from some twisted adult therapy session. With its incredible stop-motion animation, unsettling button-eyed doppelgängers, and a villain who’s basically a spider-mum from hell, it’s no surprise this film has aged into a cult classic. As its sweet sixteen approaches, fans are still dissecting every frame, me being one of them. So let’s dive into the theories, the legacy, and why Coraline still feels weirdly relevant now.
If you’ve ever Googled “Coraline theories,” you know the rabbit hole is deep. From the buttons to the cat, the theories are endless. But one thing you need to know about Coraline, is everything means something. One of the most popular fan theories suggests that the Other Mother (or the Beldam) is a demon who lures children into her world to feed off their souls as she needs it to live. Casual.
Another theory posits that Wybie, Coraline’s awkward friend (kind of), was added to the film as a kind of emotional anchor, which sets a reminder for us that Coraline isn’t just battling monsters, she’s navigating loneliness and the need for connection as her family connections are lacking.
The creepiest theory is that the entire Other World is a metaphor for grooming. The Beldam offers Coraline everything she wants – attention, delicious food, a perfect family – but only if she gives up her autonomy, and her eyes. It’s a chilling allegory for manipulation, and it hits differently in today’s age of online predators and curated social media personas.
Let’s get one thing straight, Coraline is not your average kids’ movie. Sure, it’s animated. Sure, it stars a precocious child protagonist. But there’s a reason that this isn’t a Disney movie. This is a film where a child is lured into a parallel universe by a shape-shifting witch who wants to sew buttons into her eyes. And yet, that’s what makes it so brilliant. Coraline doesn’t talk down to its audience. It trusts kids to handle the dark stuff: loneliness, neglect, temptation, and fear, and it trusts adults to see the deeper layers. It’s a rare gem that grows with you. Watch it at eight, and it’s a spooky adventure. Watch it in your 20s, like me, and it’s a psychological thriller about gaslighting and the dangers of idealising perfection.
The internet has had a field day with this piece of cinema. Reddit threads and YouTube podcasts have dissected every frame, every line, every shadow. One popular theory suggests that the Beldam isn’t just a monster—she’s a representation of toxic motherhood, or even addiction. She gives Coraline everything she wants, but only to trap her. It’s a chilling reminder that not all that glitters is gold. Or in this case, not all that’s stitched is safe.
And then there’s the cat. Easily my favourite character. Sassy, cryptic, and always one step ahead. The cat is the most interesting character to me, one I still haven’t been able to crack. Some say he’s a guardian spirit. Others think he’s a former victim of the Beldam who escaped. Either way, he’s the kind of friend we all need, one who tells it like it is and doesn’t sugar-coat the danger.
Its themes of identity, autonomy, and the dangers of escapism are more relevant than ever. In a world where we curate our lives for likes and chase dopamine hits from digital validation, Coraline’s journey is a cautionary tale. The Other World looks perfect, but it’s a trap. Sound familiar? Something that is more relevant today than ever before. This was not something we had to worry about as children in 2009, but as adults in 2025, in a world essentially curated through social media, the hidden meanings in this film are more relevant now than ever. And let’s be honest, the film’s aesthetic has become a Gen Z staple. From TikTok edits to button-eye makeup tutorials, Coraline is having a moment. It’s spooky season all year round, and this film is the blueprint.
So, happy Halloween (I guess), and here’s to Coraline, a film I still don’t have all the answers to.