Toon-arama: Brave (2012)

Let’s do a little thought experiment. If you wrote for Disney and wanted to produce a truly stand-out animated script, what are some things you would avoid? Princesses would probably top the list. Of course, if you went with a princess anyway, you could always just make her a “free spirit.” Oh, but that’s been done before. Still, you could likely think of something more original than having her betrothed to someone she doesn’t even like and trying to avoid marriage. No?Anyhow, you would certainly avoid witches casting spells with unintended consequences. And if you can’t do that, for heaven’s sake, avoid bears. (Giant, buffoonish father figures are okay, though.) In any case, if you do decide to go with all those tropes at once, don’t call it anything like “Courageous” or “Daring” or anything like that. Oh, crap.

** spoiler alert **

The above spoiler alert is merely a formality because, odds are, you’ve seen this movie before... even if you haven’t. But, just in case the introduction doesn’t paint a clear enough picture, here is a synopsis in one sentence: Merida, a Scottish princess, is betrothed to whichever clan’s firstborn son can win her hand in an archery contest, but would rather continue her carefree life of horseback riding in the woods than get married to an unknown suitor, so she employs the services of a witch who casts a spell to change her mother into a bear that can only be reversed after everyone involved becomes enlightened and better people. That was depressingly simple.

Still, I could get past the fact that Brave is almost entirely recycled—many excellent stories are built from recycled elements—if there had been a better attempt at masking it. Alas, there really is nothing to do that. Character development is non-existent; everyone is introduced as a fully-formed archetype or, more aptly, stereotype. Many of the comedic elements seem like shoehorned afterthoughts. But the ultimate failure of Brave is that there is never a moment of uncertainty in the film. The stakes never feel high because the film constantly assures us that everything will work out.

Of course, audiences do expect a happy ending from a children’s picture, but Brave doesn’t even allow a sliver of doubt to creep in. In that way, it couldn’t be any more cautious.

The tone is set in the opening scene at young Merida’s birthday. As the family celebrates, the pastoral moment is suddenly broken when the demon bear Mor’du (actually kinda cool) attacks. But then we immediately cut to several years later. Everyone is fine. We only learn that Merida’s father Fergus lost his leg to the bear through exposition. The audience never had opportunity to wonder about his fate. And this occurs over and over throughout the film. Merida climbs a cliff and drinks from a waterfall, but we only learn this was dangerous afterward. She misses a crucial message from the witch, but she ultimately receives it anyway. And every time she enters the woods—which is like, all the time—there is not even the worry of getting lost because the magical “wisps” provide a glowing trail. Once this pattern is established, we no longer wonder how things that are not immediately resolved will end. The message is clear: everything will be just fine. And while assurances are nice, it’s no way to keep one interested in a movie.

It’s worth mentioning the wisps again, because after I had seen them a couple of times, I couldn’t help but think of them as markers in a video game. I don’t think of video games as mindless, stupefying entertainment in general, but the bad ones can be. And the bad ones tend to include glowing trails like those provided by the wisps. In that sense, the way they led Merida along, without her having to find or discover anything on her own, was emblematic of what is wrong with the movie.

Still, my mother raised me that if I can’t say anything good, don’t say anything at all. (Incidentally, that line is also in the movie.) Besides, I’ve already said the worst I can, so there’s really nothing left to talk about but the good.

I’d be a liar if I told you the film was anything less than gorgeous. If the story is (severely) lacking, it may be because Brave is really a vehicle for Pixar’s new software (which they failed to promote). Sadly, too few people appreciate the complexities of animating an unruly tangle of curly red hair from polygons, let alone the painstaking subtleties of painting digital moss. Still, most people can and do appreciate the beauty of the Scottish highlands and so can admire the faithful reproduction by Pixar’s computer artists. The only drawback is that the awe only lasts for the first few scenes of the movie as nothing is brought later to revive that initial wonder.

Similar statements can be made about the vocal performances. A Scottish tale is a perfect excuse to assemble a primarily Scottish cast, whose natural brogue is entertaining in itself. If you can speak in your normal accent after 93 minutes of exposure, you’re a stronger man than I. On the other hand, the performers breathe an uncommon verve into these characters which, frankly, is necessary to keep one engaged in the picture. This is no mean feat, considering the aforementioned lack of character development. Truly, the character performances are the saving grace of the movie, being simultaneously a cast of clowns as well as reminiscent of folks we likely all know. Or maybe I can only say that because I possess a bit of Pictish heritage.

Conspicuously absent was much in the way of Scottish-sounding music, a real no-brainer given the film’s setting as well as the current popularity of Celtic and Gaelic folk music. This is surprising given that Scottish composer Patrick Doyle was on the job. Certainly the music never seemed out of place, but the thing lacking was a discernible and hummable theme. A couple of vocal pieces overlaid some montages, but I can’t say they stuck with me. Pixar has yet to do a musical. This may have been an apt place to start.