PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological.
psychological, metaphysical*
Much advance hype on BRAVE
emphasized that it was one of the few animated films which focused on a young
girl’s familial conflict with her mother—in this case, a 13th-century
Scots girl, Merida, and her mother Queen Elinor.
The hype is true, so far as it goes, though it’s not necessarily the
film’s most interesting aspect.
Because Merida's father—an amiable
goofus named Fergus-- is the head of their clan, Merida actually enjoys a fairly
cushy life in their medieval palace, even if she has to put up with three bratty
younger brothers. The film depicts Merida and Elinor as having had a strong relationship in Merida’s youth. But as Merida grows
older, she began finding her mother’s attentions more restrictive. Elinor continually insists that Merida must learn
all the ways of the courtly female: proper dress, manners, et al—when Merida would
rather act like her adventurous father, riding around and learning
archery. In passing I’ll note that since
it wouldn’t be politically correct these days, she’s never seen using her
arrows on unassuming wildlife, as one might assume real medieval archers would
have.
The main conflict comes about when
Elinor—who may have wed Fergus in an arranged marriage—insists that Merida must
marry into one of the neighboring clans to shore up Fergus' alliance to his sometimes contentious neighbors. Merida has no desire to be
treated as a bargaining chip, and is particularly disgusted to see that all of
her suitors turn out to be goofs and feebs.
So that none of the neighboring chiefs will be offended by Merida’s choice,
Fergus holds an archery contest to determine which suitor wins his daughter’s
hand. Merida turns the contest on its head
by winning the contest herself. To say the
least, Mother is not pleased, though Father seems to think it all a big joke,
and doesn’t seem to mind the prospect of renewing hostilities with the rival
chiefs.
Like many teenagers, Merida
wants nothing more complicated than ton have her mother’s constant carping to come to an end. Guided by a chimerical will-of-the-wisp, Merida
locates an ancient witch, and asks her to make her mother stop the
nagging. Merida procures a potion and slips
it in her mother’s drink. Mother stops
nagging, all right, because the potion changes her into a bear who can’t speak,
though she still possess her human intelligence.
As seen in other tales of this
type, the childish antagonist is in essence forced to walk in the parent’s
shoes for a time: trying to find a way to re-transform her ursine parent while
at the same time protecting her against harm.
Said harmful influences include Fergus, who lost one of his feet during an
earlier encounter with a real bear, as well as all of the neighbor-chieftains, who
join forces to hunt down the invading bear no matter what. In the process Queen Elinor learns something of
the passion for independence that moves her daughter as well.
BRAVE, like many Pixar films, is
replete with many amusing bits, to the extent that I’d be tempted to judge it a
comedy along the lines of CARS or A BUG’S LIFE.
Yet fundamentally the struggle between mother and daughter inclines the
plot more toward drama, or, to be precise, melodrama. The ending, in which Merida must confess her responsibility
for her actions in order to save her mother, shows far more alignment with the
tropes of drama than of comedy.
In addition, Merida's plight is tied in, rather confusingly, to an earlier Scottish lord who suffered a bear-curse, and under the name "Mor'du" has devolved in total bear-hood. The seriousness of the lord's fate is used both to emphasize the potential fate of Elinor and as a last-minute physical threat to Merida and all of her loved ones. The film doesn't make much of the behind-the-scenes role of the unnamed witch and the wills-of-the-wisp that apparently serve her, but it's worth remarking that though her potion doesn't work for Merida the way she expects, it does end with two major effects: both bringing mother and daughter together and ending the cursed existence of Mor'Du. Whether or not the witch meant to accomplish either or both of these effects is never decisively known.
I must admit that BRAVE, in making
the mother the heavy in the matter of arranged marriages, departs from
historical veracity. In this medieval
period the men were lords of their castles, and they, not their wives, were
more likely to barter their daughters in exchange for political advantage. One may suspect the ideology implied by a
scenario in which the woman, the vehicle of decorum and manners, is made the
proponent of the dreaded arranged marriage, while the man, the happy-go-lucky
warrior-doofus, makes no demands on his little girl and would apparently be
just as happy to see her never grow older.
Nevertheless, I don’t want to
overstate the ideological implications, since I believe the scripters tinkered
with history primarily—as the advance hype says—to make the conflict all about
the mother and her daughter. Certainly
the woods are full of stories about daughters rebelling against tyrannical
fathers, so no more were really needed.
Similarly, BRAVE gets points for not doing what most fantasy-films might have done: sticking one good, handsome-faced apple in the
suitor-barrel among the bad ones, so that Merida would turn boy-crazy. This would have mitigated against the
script’s point, that arranged marriage was not a good thing, even if it did
hook one up with a hottie.
In order to avoid validating the
custom, Merida has to find a way to circumvent it after finally returning her
mother to the ranks of humanity. The way
she chooses isn’t overly believable in terms of what would have happened in the
real medieval world. But for the sake of
a happy ending—which are meant to assert, “This is the way things should
be”—it’s an acceptable compromise.
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