Throughout the centuries of existence, the balance between man and nature has been a crucial one. Both provide pivotal aspects to this Earth, though it’s only the former that threatens to disrupt the other to a detrimental degree. Humans have the potential to be arrogant, creating industrious landscapes that pollute the planet and make them lose touch with nature. This is an unfortunate development if for no other reason than nature is healing. Nature has the capability to provide nourishment to the world and have it grow into something healthy and more peaceful. That is why both sides of this coin are crucial to survival, and sometimes it’s hard to forget that.
For Wolfwalkers (2020), the latest film from Cartoon Saloon, this is taken into the world of Celtic folklore with a vivid story full of gorgeous animation. The title is a reference to someone who is capable of existing both in the worlds of humans and in wolves; embodying their characteristic and allowing a unique perspective that most miss out on. For people like Mebh, she roams the forest outside of a guarded Irish town enjoying life. Being a wolf seems to be awesome, especially as it allows for everything from jumping great distances and being able to see a scent trail that shows just how close this canine species is to Mother Earth.
On the other side of the wall is a town full of paranoia. The protagonist Robyn is a mischievous girl, desiring to go outside with her father Bill to hunt wolves. As she talks to herself with whimsical language, she finds a way to scheme herself through the guards and stalk him. What she finds is something more unexpected. It’s not that Bill believes that the wolves will harm his community, but that there’s this girl who lives among them. It’s Mebh, whom she comes to befriend to the point of imprinting her with wolfwalker powers, introducing her to a world that humans will never know.
What follows is reflective of traditional folklore, where spiritual forces give powers to Robyn as she learns to navigate this world. The audience learns the law of the land with her, and it works at creating this perfect empathy for man and nature. It could just be that Robyn sees society as somewhat antagonistic to itself, but there’s something more approachable about being a wolf. The pack loves her, letting her run alongside them as they explore these majestic worlds. It’s when the film feels most alive, where singer Aurora’s “Running with the Wolves” adds this sweet undertone to the whole experience.
It helps that Mebh by nature is more of a tomboy, constantly poking fun at Robyn and finding these clever ways to get what she wants. When stealing food from hunters, the duo has a humorous number where they keep tipping over a cart, distracting the humans from their actions. The film is full of cute moments like this, allowing for a sense of playfulness that inundates the audience with Irish culture in effective ways. While Robyn is English, herself there because of Bill’s hunting skill, she observes and learns to become more open with the world around her. It’s a stumbling block, but both characters have a dynamic that carries the film into something more provocative and exciting.
This is especially true when realizing what the central conflict is. It’s not just that Bill and the townspeople want the wolves dead, but they want to tear down the forest. They want to destroy nature and replace it with more industry. Meanwhile, Mebh begins to long for her missing mother, who is kidnapped in the castle of the king. He lacks the subtlety to his evil, reflecting the familiar masculine dominance of this archetype. Still, it helps to convey man’s attempt to destroy nature by capturing it, believing that they can tame it into submission.
This is where Robyn becomes the hero of the story. She finally has a purpose, which is to help the townspeople see that wolves are sacred. They deserve to run around in the forest because they’re not harming anyone. Even the townspeople’s choice of weapons, notably firearms, reflects impersonal, unnatural cruelty in how they view this situation. There are these subtle divides between the two sides that make the rise in tension more effective, showing the threat of peril growing into its final outcome.
In a lot of ways, Pixar’s Brave (2012) is a similar movie. Both feature young women who live in The United Kingdom centuries ago and who have mystical quests that wouldn’t be out of place in their folklore. Whereas Wolfwalkers uses spirituality sparingly, Brave feels like it exists in a world of mysticism from the start. This is most evident in the opening, where forest beings called will-o’-the-wisps guide protagonist Merida through the unknown to some profound destination. Later in the story, there will also be witches as well as people who turn into bears.
Another major difference is that Brave’s version of Scotland feels more densely populated. Whereas Wolfwalkers has a massive cast, it’s only interested in exploring the internal lives of a select few townspeople. While there are archetypes who have recurring bits, the story really only cares about Robyn, Bill, and The Lord Protector. In Brave, it feels more expansive. Merida’s father and mother get a fair amount of development along with random supporting characters used to symbolize the pressures that Merida will face throughout the story.
That’s because she’s a princess. The idea is that she needs to be married off and is being met with various suitors. The humor here is more ribald, including plenty of mooning and belching jokes. The animation is more detailed, allowing for these expansive set-pieces and detail in the character animations, especially as Merida wanders into the forest and discovers the magic inside of it. She loves a good adventure and spends the film suggesting that she’ll be shooting for her own hand when her relationship is reduced to an archery contest. It’s a story clearly designed to be more about female empowerment, and it comes through in these tomboyish ways.
It creates disagreements with her mother especially. Through some mysticism, her mother gets turned into a bear and the duo are excised to the forest. There’s less confidence in the transformation than with Robyn and Mebh. The mother spends a lot of her time acting human in a bear’s body, becoming scared to even hunt for fish in a stream. It’s designed for humor, but also to show the small ways that the characters are divided.
Another major difference between the two films is what nature is supposed to mean in conflict with the story. Wolfwalkers is essentially about man versus nature. Brave meanwhile devolves into a story of a mother and daughter trying to understand each other. While both have their endearing traits, their approaches differ in scope. Brave has a more casual relationship, where Merida is constantly fighting her mother. The big lesson she learns is to trust her and that they need to work together if they want to escape this condition. Unlike Wolfwalkers, there is a need to escape this natural element and return to normal. However, it’s necessary in order to see what both mean to each other.
Meanwhile, Wolfwalkers sides more towards something darker. The first implication of death comes in Robyn’s guide bird being shot down by an arrow. It’s in the abstract animation that the violence is less grisly but also still powerful. There is very little blood in this story, but the moments of peril are conveyed so dramatically that they can’t help but emphasize the point. Brave couldn’t do this just because of how detailed the whole thing is. A wound would have to look realistic if just for continuity’s sake. Sure it has a third act that is just as horrifying, but Wolfwalkers feels less indicative of needing to hide the stakes from its young audience.
Overall both do good with the levity. There is a balance of comedy and darkness. However, Brave seems keener to rely on slapstick when things are risking getting too dark. This is especially true in the home stretch where a journey through the castle results in Merida’s three younger brothers turning into these bumbling bears. Their own subplot is given a wild adventure that is there mostly for serviceable enjoyment. Meanwhile, Wolfwalkers is more committed to the slow shift into darkness, where the audience builds empathy with this world and then threatens to take it away.
The question becomes how Robyn will convince her father that wolves are peaceful creatures. How will she turn the king around on this whole matter? It becomes clear that the monarchy holds the power of influence, and the film seeks to shift it through small acts. There is no comedy to alleviate the final stretch of the story. Instead, there’s a constant fear that Bill, who comes to accept Robyn, will die. In one of the rare instances of blood, it’s on Bill’s face as the king points a gun at his head. While Brave goes on to feature Merida fighting a giant bear called Mor’du, there isn’t as much concern about that sacrifice. In fact, there’s almost a need to tame magical realism instead of hurt it.
Both stories are successful in how they depict man’s relationship to nature, though Wolfwalkers is more in tune with a bigger point. Sure, Pixar and parent company Disney have been keen on putting environmental messages into all of their movies, but Brave is so clearly a mother-daughter story, about accepting one’s own independence, that this is all superfluous. Everything in Wolfwalkers is also about acceptance, but it’s conveyed through the nature that Robyn discovers. There are stakes that involve, even tangentially, the protection of nature.
Also, it just feels more comfortable in wanting to be one with nature on an animal level. Robyn and Mebh still have these special capabilities after the story ends. Bill comes to understand and respects his daughter. The same can be said for Merida and her mother, though it’s in some ways a return to normal biologically.
Neither approach is necessarily wrong, but Wolfwalkers feels more ambitious without having nearly as frivolous of resources. With sometimes minimal animation, it manages to capture the wonder of Ireland without having to sketch every last leaf or every wrinkle on a face. The ambiguity allows for some wonderment, the color schemes aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Brave is definitely impressive visually (the hair animation alone is groundbreaking), but it leaves less to the imagination. It’s about hyper-specificity that may hurt it from ever being a darker and more dangerous movie.
Of course, that is the difference between Cartoon Saloon (a European company) and Pixar (an American one). In some ways, it comes down strictly to ideals. Wolfwalkers feels more quaint, if just because of its hand-drawn nature. The story also is less conventional to mainstream standards. It’s delightful, but Pixar would not release a film with as much peril. They would get complaints of traumatizing kids, maybe needing a PG-13 rating. Because of that, Brave feels more reserved even if both have impressive substance about man’s relationship to nature. One uses it to comment on emotional symbolism while the other environmentalism. If nothing else, it shows how much one can hope to learn just by allowing nature to take its course. It may even make the world a better place.
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