Brave

Stories about mothers and daughters are rare in popular cinema, and nearly unheard of in Disney's animated canon. Daughters with missing or deceased mothers seem to be prevalent; think of Belle, Ariel, Jasmine or Pocahontas. Likewise there are those who are orphaned completely, like Penny from The Rescuers or the Frozen sisters. There are a few examples of full families in Disney's films, such as Moana’s mother and father, and Aurora’s largely absent parents in Sleeping Beauty (though honestly her mother registers as such a non-entity that her voice-actor isn’t even credited.) When one thinks of “Disney mothers,” the popular notion that springs to mind is that of the “evil stepmother,” which has been a recurring theme in the animated canon from the very start (Snow White’s Queen, Cinderella’s stepmother, all the way to Rapunzel’s Gothel.) Off the top of my head, the only healthy relationship between a mother and daughter that comes to mind is the one between Tiana and her mother in The Princess And The Frog - yet even then Tiana spends more time working toward her restaurateur dream in service of her deceased father’s memory than anything else.

By the way, I’m not discounting Lilo and Nani’s relationship in Lilo & Stitch, although they’re technically sisters - and their relationship requires the intervention of a psychotic alien experiment who eats his own boogers.

Not surprisingly, it would fall on Pixar to produce Disney’s first full story of a daughter and mother coming together - 2012’s Brave. In doing so, Pixar’s filmmakers took their first leap into fairytale storytelling, and made what may be their most “Disney-like” film to date.

Merida, please hear my cry - and let your arrow fly...

Brave tells the story of headstrong teenager Merida (voiced by Kelly Macdonald,) daughter to Medieval Scottish King Fergus (the ever-crazed Billy Connolly) and Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson.) From a young age, Merida has been in possession of a fiercely independent streak; in her spare time, Merida rides her horse around the Highlands, climbing cliffs and perfecting her archery skills. Her mother, Elinor, is the very picture of the perfectly poised Queen, a graceful and regal counterpart to the gruff and boisterous King. Elinor has been prepping Merida for her eventual role as Queen from a young age, and the years of training and royal restrictions have created a friction between the two. Following the announcement of Merida’s pending betrothal to a son of one of her father’s allies (and her subsequent refusal to participate in the tradition,) the pair’s relationship strains to a breaking point. From here, the story veers off into fantasy, as Merida encounters a witch (voiced by Harry Potter franchise stalwart Julie Walters) who provides her with an enchanted cake that will supposedly change her fate. Believing her fate to be in the hands of her stubborn mother, Merida gives the cake to Elinor - who is promptly transformed into a bear.

Magic mirror in my hand, who's t - OH SHIT A BEAR!!

I recall being somewhat blindsided by Elinor’s transformation upon first viewing this film. Already the advertising for Brave focused heavily on the action/adventure elements of the film, so when the film turned out to be about the relationship between Merida and Elinor it was already a surprise. The magical metamorphosis and resulting “my mother the bear” storyline seemed to come out of nowhere. Taking the film as a whole, though, it actually makes perfect sense. The prologue, in which we first encounter the royal family celebrating young Merida’s birthday, sets the stage for both Merida and Elinor’s relationship, as well as King Fergus’ ongoing vendetta against the ferocious bear Mor’du. The Mor’du plotline, and its associated ursine imagery, comes to overshadow much of the film that follows, even as Merida’s family issues are developed. Until Elinor is revealed to have been changed into a large black bear, it’s not clear how the two plotlines will converge. It’s an unusual solution to this problem of plotting, but a unique one to be sure.

Hey Merida - I think Rapunzel may be able to recommend a good detangler...

It seems strange that the two can only learn to communicate when one of them (Elinor) is unable to speak, being a bear and all. But it does force her to listen to her daughter’s point-of-view without being able to interrupt, and to witness some of Merida’s useful survival skills first-hand. Likewise, trying to interpret her mother’s grunts and growls helps Merida to better understand the core of Elinor’s feelings, unfettered by traditions and royal necessities. Proof of this can be seen in the relative ease by which Merida is able to interpret her mother's pantomime sign-language while delivering a speech to the clan leaders. To top it all off, there’s nothing better than a little “life or death” in a film to force two parties into mutual understanding; the dangerous encounters with a vengeful Mor’du see Elinor putting the bear beat-down on the brute in order to protect her offspring.

No jamborees in this bear country

When it becomes clear that Mor’du is actually an ancient king of Scottish legend, himself turned into a bear, the true connection between Elinor’s transformation and the rest of the film becomes clear - but it also raises a few questions. When we first encounter the slightly-unhinged witch, she is trying her hardest to disguise her magical powers. This, she claims, is due to problems with “too many unsatisfied customers.” This got me wondering: is this same witch responsible for the transformation of Mor’du? If not, is the mention of “unsatisfied customers” simply a humorous aside? It’s possible, as much of the witch’s scenes are played for laughs. It just seems odd that the same spell (or a very similar one) would’ve been performed by two separate enchantresses for seemingly different reasons. True, Merida surmises that Mor’du became a bear because, like herself, he wanted to “change his fate.” Perhaps there’s some Celtic witch glossary that translates “change your fate” exclusively to “become a bear?” Based on the manner of the witch we meet, it seems more likely that all she’s capable of doing is transforming people into bears; even in her wood-carving business she only seems capable of carving bear totems.

And Pizza Planet trucks...

Interestingly (if predictably,) the solution to Merida and Elinor’s problem is presented in the same prologue that sets up the source of their antagonism. When we first encounter the pair, they’re engaged in a game of hide-and-seek, and Elinor clearly loves her daughter very, very much. Just minutes later, King Fergus gifts Merida her very own bow, encouraging her adventurous nature. Elinor is apprehensive, bemoaning to the King “a bow, Fergus? She’s a lady …” From this point on, mother and daughter seem to naturally diverge in their views. However, besides the obvious need for the two of them to actually sit and listen to one another, the key to their peace can be seen as a matter of shedding all of the baggage that their lives have loaded them with and getting back to basics. Much like Merida’s diplomatic speech to the clans, in which she preaches the importance of remembering their bonds of trust and friendship; in the end what needed to be done was to “go back to the beginning,” and realize that they were still the little girl and young mother who loved nothing more than to spend time being together.

Hush me wee bairn, don't you cry ... Och! 

At Brave’s conclusion, the clans are at peace, and Merida and Elinor are once again enjoying each other’s company; they work together on a new tapestry, ride horses together, and Elinor has even begun to wear her hair down. When forced into mutual understanding, both ended up seeing the world differently, realizing that they were not each other’s enemies. Beyond its considerable technical achievements and action-packed story, Brave is at its heart a story about the deep connection between mothers and daughters. For this alone I feel the film deserves a place as a cherished modern fairy tale - whether made by Disney, Pixar, or anyone else.

Sometimes you eat the bear, sometimes the bear eats you