The wave of “immersification” has finally reached the world of Aardman Animations. Following digital spectacles centered on artists like Vincent Van Gogh and Gustav Klimt, as well as historical subjects like the moon landings, the immersive venue Lightroom has now turned its projection-mapped technology toward the creators of Wallace and Gromit. The exhibition aims to present a sprawling celebration of the studio’s iconic claymation history, shifting between behind-the-scenes insights, documentary-style storytelling, and grand-scale renderings of beloved characters. N othing is safe from the scourge of immersification. Behind-the-scenes insight and dazzling immersive renderings of all your wide-grinned, cheeky northern favourites, it moves between documentary storytelling.
The show details the origin story of founders Peter Lord and David Sproxton, who began experimenting with clay in suburban Surrey before partnering with Nick Park. It chronicles their journey from Woking to global acclaim, highlighting technical processes such as the creation of Morph, the animators’ practice of acting out scenes before filming, and the meticulous work required to sync clay puppet mouths to the “eeee” sound for the word “cheese.” These segments are woven together with clips from major studio productions and sequences featuring Shaun the Sheep. Before joining forces with Nick Park and setting in motion a series of events that would take them from Woking to the stars, we get to hear about how Peter Lord and David Sproxton met in suburban Surrey and started messing around with clay.
A core argument of the exhibition is the enduring value of Aardman’s handmade aesthetic. Early in the show, footage from the 1989 filmA Grand Day Outthe debut of Wallace and Gromit—is projected at a scale that exposes every fingerprint and lump in the clay. Director Lucy Izzard notes in a voiceover, “I think people still crave imperfection,” framing this tactile quality as an essential human element in an increasingly digital world. This focus on the “human” touch is meant to validate the studio’s legacy. So beloved by so many people, and it makes a pretty convincing argument for why Aardman is so important. Every finger print and smudge, at this huge scale you see every lump and bump in the clay.
However, the transition from this homely aesthetic to high-tech immersive cinema is occasionally jarring, highlighting the show’s primary flaw: a lack of clear identity. The experience oscillates between a documentary and a clip show, failing to fully utilize the potential of the Lightroom venue. While side screens successfully transport viewers into environments like Shaun’s barn, Gromit’s cardboard surveillance box, or a recording studio during a voice session, these moments feel insufficient to anchor the broader narrative.
The execution leans heavily into gimmicks rather than cohesive storytelling, prioritizing an “immersive-ish” approach over a truly transformative experience. Though moments such as the recreation ofCreature Comfortsand the giant-scale projection of the Peter GabrielSledgehammervideo provide genuine joy, the exhibition lacks the dynamic engagement found in previous Lightroom features likePrehistoric Planet: Discovering Dinosaurs. As if they didn’t ask: “How can we make an amazing immersive experience?” but instead asked: “How can we tell our story in an immersive-ish way, it’s gimmick over narrative.
When viewed through the eyes of a four-year-old attendee, the structural weakness becomes even more apparent. The young viewer, after being told the exhibition was a documentary, remarked, “When is the movie starting? This is just ads.” This sentiment reflects the overarching feeling that the show serves more as a promotional reel for the Aardman brand than as a standalone artistic experience. Ultimately, while the show does not damage Aardman’s sterling reputation or diminish their quirky, celebrated body of work, it fails to add significant depth, resulting in a display that feels more like a light novelty than a crowning achievement. More impatient this time, almost pleading. “This is it,” I say. “It’s sort of a documentary, he’s right – the whole thing just feels like an advert for Aardman. “When is the movie starting?” he asks again.
