Unleash the mega-grow potion! … Shaun goes rogue in the quest for a larger pumpkin. Photograph: Aardman/Richard Davies View image in fullscreen Unleash the mega-grow potion! … Shaun goes rogue in the quest for a larger pumpkin. Photograph: Aardman/Richard Davies Film ‘He goes to the dark side’: behind the scenes on the Shaun the Sheep horror movie Aardman’s hero is back in The Beast of Mossy Bottom – a terrifying tale of frankenfood, pitchfork-wielding villagers and a monster with suspiciously stiff orange hair. Our writer meets its makers and moulds her very own Shaun
Catherine Shoard Thu 10 Sep 2026 06.00 CEST Last modified on Thu 10 Sep 2026 09.07 CEST Share Prefer the Guardian on Google T he Aztec West industrial estate in Bristol was opened by Margaret Thatcher in December 1989. One hundred and sixty acres of breeze block and mirrored glass, it is home to about 7,000 employees and 100 companies, including EDF, EE, HSBC, Co-op Legal and Spandex. It has its own gym, spa, church and morgue. Step inside Unit 1410, though, and bucolic England is magically restored. A farm complete with sheep. Rolling fields in autumn colours. A small parish town boasting post office, war memorial, chippy. It looks lush. But before you hit up Rightmove, I should say: Mossingham is only two feet tall. And plasticine.
It’s January 2026 and Aardman animations are about halfway through production on Shaun the Sheep: The Beast of Mossy Bottom. The 300-odd staff in this shed are full speed ahead – which means each of the 30 animators is rattling out almost two seconds of footage a day .
The studio’s only perk is a ping-pong table – toasties have to be paid for They work across 40 sets, each accessed through black floor-length curtains, like a weird A&E. On trolleys lie palette knives and small suitcases containing body parts – 20 mouths that can be inserted into Bitzer the dog’s head, for instance – as well as character “bibles” with guidance on optimum ear angles and kosher nostril widths. The atmosphere is hushed but not silent. The process is to photograph 24 frames per second, infinitesimally manipulating the models between snaps. Sound comes much later. Dialogue – never. When they made the first Shaun the Sheep movie, back in 2015, Aardman had to decide whether to go full later-Tom-and-Jerry and have them talk, or fall back on decades of silent movie heritage. They chose wisely.
I’m on a tour of the studios with a group of European journalists. We observe the puppet construction process, from skeleton to wardrobe. There’s a new character in this film: a female vet, the love interest of the hapless farmer. Her dreadlocks were originally a steel scourer, but this had to be ditched for torsion reasons – a shame, as Aardman like repurposing everyday objects (clingfilm, tinfoil, lentils). Is there anything off the shelf used on Mossy Bottom? They think. Just one thing: K-Y Jelly – for tears.
We’re invited to cop a feel of the titular beast, matted orange hair stiff as a boot brush. It’s a conscious aesthetic, so the fibres don’t move between shots. This is in contrast to the stop-motion done by Wes Anderson on Fantastic Mr Fox and Isle of Dogs, which embraces “boiling”: the impression of fur being in constant movement. Any wiggle is forbidden here.
Then we mould our own Shaun heads, steered by an expert. It’s far harder than expected: much gouging, plus the clay is tough to knead. That quality with which Aardman is most associated – “thumbiness” or the i…