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Nimona poster

Nimona

2023 · Troy Quane

For a family movie night that doesn't talk down to anyone, or when you want animation with attitude and a message about being yourself that actually earns the tears. Comfort viewing with a rebel streak.

What it's about

In a techno-medieval kingdom of holograms and heraldry, a knight is framed for a shocking crime and goes on the run — only to pick up an unwanted sidekick: Nimona, a shapeshifting teenager who'd much rather be the villain, thank you. As the two chase the truth, the film asks what happens to people an institution can't categorize. Adapted from ND Stevenson's beloved graphic novel.

The experience

Fast, funny, and punk-hearted, with bursts of real ache under the jokes — Nimona's chaos is a delight, and the film sneaks up on you emotionally. It plays breezy but lands with surprising weight.

The craft

Directors Troy Quane and Nick Bruno keep the surfaces kinetic — pink smears of transformation against a kingdom rendered like a screen-saturated police state — and the shapeshifting animation is a constant visual joke and thesis at once. Bright, punchy, and great on a big TV.

Why it matters

Nearly finished when Disney shuttered Blue Sky Studios, it was rescued by Netflix and completed in exile — a survival story that rhymes with the film's own fable about institutions destroying what they can't categorize — and it's become a touchstone of queer allegory in mainstream animation.

Reception & legacy: how Nimona was received, argued over, and remembered →

A disgraced knight in a techno-medieval kingdom — all holograms and heraldry — gets an unwanted sidekick: a shapeshifting teenager who'd rather be the villain, thank you, and whose refusal to hold one form is the film's whole beating heart. Adapted from ND Stevenson's beloved webcomic-turned-graphic-novel, it carries one of modern animation's great survival stories: nearly finished at Blue Sky Studios when Disney shuttered the place in 2021, the film was rescued by Annapurna and Netflix and completed in exile. That backstory rhymes uncannily with the movie itself, a fable about institutions that destroy what they can't categorize. Directors Troy Quane and Nick Bruno keep the surfaces punk and kinetic — pink smears of transformation, a kingdom rendered like a screen-saturated police state — while letting the queer allegory stay legible to any kid who's been called a monster. It earned an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Feature, vindication for a film a studio system had left for dead.

Lines of influence