The best animation houses have their own distinctive appearance, pacing and storytelling approach.
Classic 1940s and ’50s Warner Bros. cartoons looked nothing like their Disney cousins, and nobody would confuse one of Hayao Miyazaki’s Studio Ghibli efforts with a Pixar entry.
The same is true of Ireland’s Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart, who — as artists, writers and/or directors under the Cartoon Saloon banner — have previously brought us 2009’s The Secret of Kells and 2014’s Song of the Sea, both of which earned Academy Award nominations.
After spending some time with the forest-born Mebh, left, the town-bred Robyn begins
to realize that her assumptions about her walled town's relationship with the
surrounding woods are not only wrong, but harmful.
Their unique touch is equally evident in Wolfwalkers, which they’ve co-directed and co-written, with scripting assistance from Will Collins and Jericca Cleland. As with the earlier films, this new animated opus — available via Apple TV+ — is steeped in Irish mythology and folklore, and includes a strong environmental message.
There’s also a rather nasty jab at Oliver Cromwell’s 17th century invasion and subsequent occupation of Ireland, for those with an historical bent. (Some transgressions never are forgiven, and the Irish have very long memories.)
The year is 1650, the setting a British-occupied walled hamlet in Kilkenny. Rule is maintained by the oppressively Puritan — and ironically named — Lord Protector (voiced by Simon McBurney) and his soldiers. The “heathen” Irish townsfolk are essentially feudal serfs: the men tending sheep and working the land, the women enduring back-breaking labor in the cringingly named “scullery.”
Over time, the Lord Protector has ordered that the surrounding woods be systematically cleared away, as a means of “protecting” the town from “vicious” wolves. This does not sit well with the wisest townsfolk, steeped in local lore, who understand that a symbiotic balance must be maintained between people, forest and wolves.
The wolf pack has long been protected by the powerful, magic-laden Moll MacTíre (Maria Doyle Kennedy), a “wolfwalker” who is human when awake, and transforms into a wolf when her human form sleeps. Aside from her many others gifts — most related to a wolf’s extraordinarily enhanced senses — Moll has the ability to heal wounds.
In the town, 11-year-old Robyn Goodfellowe (Honor Kneafsey) idolizes her father, Bill (Sean Bean), a hunter and trapper who has been hired by the Lord Protector to rid the woods of wolves. Robyn regards her father’s work as a sacred calling; she has no reason to think otherwise, having been raised in his embrace. She longs to join him during his daily forays into the woods, but children are forbidden to venture beyond the walls.
Like the Lord Protector and his soldiers, Bill and Robyn are British; this does not endear them to the Irish locals.
Needless to say, Robyn manages to sneak into the woods, accompanied by her beloved pet falcon Merlyn. Her subsequent close encounter with the wolf pack proves unusual, to say the least; what initially seems terrifying — if not potentially fatal — becomes puzzling, even wondrous, when she’s confronted by Moll’s rambunctious 9-year-old daughter, Mebh Óg MacTíre (Eva Whittaker).
The irrepressibly energetic girl also is a wolfwalker, with an instinctive distrust of anything “townie.” Although initially wary of each other, the two soon bond … and Robyn begins to understand that her father’s calling is far from noble.
But how to convince him?
This rising conflict between father and daughter becomes even more hazardous, due to their precarious position with the Lord Protector. On top of which, an additional crisis: Mebh’s mother has been asleep for a long, long time … meaning that something has prevented her wolf form from returning to the pack’s magical glade, concealed behind a waterfall and forest overgrowth.
Mebh is beside herself: Where could her mother be?
This is pretty heavy stuff for a family-friendly animated film, and be advised: Moore and Stewart build their saga to a suspenseful and quite perilous third-act climax. Those who fall under this story’s folkloric premise — and it’s hard not to succumb — will be at the edge of their seats, heart in mouth, during the final 25 minutes.
Prior to that, the filmmakers have plenty of fun with the developing relationship between the two girls. Robyn is proud, intelligent and stubborn: just as feisty, as a newly hatched eco-activist, as she was a would-be crossbow hunter. Mebh, in turn, is a snarky, quick-to-anger ball of energy; at times, she’s quite hilarious.
A lengthy sequence wherein Mebh teaches Robyn the “way of the forest” is quite enchanting.
The girls’ respective appearances reflect their origins. Robyn and her father are angular, with sharp edges, much like the town itself: all black bars, rectangles, squares and pointed features that convey its oppressive character. Thick, dark line work subtly enhances the notion that Robyn is trapped in a cage (an ironic contrast to her falcon Merlyn, whom she’d never put in a cage).
The forest, in contrast, is lush, painterly, organic and laden with greens, yellows and oranges. Everything is curved and rounded; Mebh’s flowing orange hair allows her to curl up into a literal ball, when sleeping.
The townsfolk — particularly the soldiers — have similar hard, angry edges; the wolves and forest animals are sketchy and “loose.” As time passes, Robyn’s appearance shifts and turns softer, as she becomes one with the forest.
As was the case with the first two entries in Moore’s “Irish folklore trilogy,” this new film’s music is a blend of French composer Bruno Coulais’ alternately gentle and suspenseful underscore, and folk tunes by the Irish band Kíla. The latter, although created for this film, sound and feel period-authentic.
At a time when computer animation has become ubiquitous, this film’s visual palette is a strong reminder that nothing looks as lush — as uniquely “warm” — as individually hand-drawn cells.
Wolfwalkers is a true animated tour-de-force.
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