I'm waiting for the film to come

[sovay]

Since enough people have asked me what I thought of The Secret of Kells, I am reposting my reply to asakiyume:

Visually extraordinary, one of the most unusually beautiful animated films I have ever seen: it does not look like anything else except ninth-century Irish illuminated manuscripts, including when the characters are in motion; it refuses perspective in historically intricate, elegant ways and the last shimmer of the Chi-Rho page of the Book is alive. The otherworldly characters are not and could never be mistaken for human or mortal. There's a hilarious bit with Saint Colum Cille. There is a white cat named Pangur Bán. The narrative has problems. Some of the ways in which it deliberately leaves its loose ends untied are both admirable and successful, but in places they cause the film to feel like two or three stories awkwardly joined—or two or three different takes on the same material that somehow wound up in the same draft—and there's one major instance where they fixed an emotional tension that I had found incredibly powerful when unresolved; it's a Disney-level misstep in a film that otherwise has very little to do with conventional animation and I have no idea what happened. The other serious problem, which is both artistic and narrative, is the representation of the Vikings as black-and-red horned monsters; they come across as aliens or Orcs that have somehow nipped over from Peter Jackson's Middle-Earth and it doesn't work, because the film is otherwise very shaded about people's lives and motivations—even the pre-Christian sacrifice-god that Brendan winds up confronting¹ is not portrayed as hellish, only very old, a bloodstained dark place, and still hungry. And given the manuscript look of Kells, honestly, I'd have expected the Vikings to be animated in one of the traditional Norse styles. Instead they're from some other planet and the disjoint doesn't ruin the film, but it did interfere for me. I would still recommend you see it. I'd certainly like to see what its creators do next.

1. In one of the film's showpieces—who knew it was possible to be reminded simultaneously of Beowulf and Harold and the Purple Crayon, but the results are gorgeous.

rushthatspeaks Someone whose identity I cannot apparently bring to mind has since informed me that what Tomm Moore is doing next is a selkie film, which makes me very hopeful. I should not like to see selkies become the Next Big Thing à la vampires or werewolves, because I would lose way too much of my life to banging my head into desks, but there are very few good selkie films—it's not exactly an overstuffed genre. The Secret of Roan Inish (1994) has the best explicit seal-wife on film, Ondine (2010) the hands-down best deconstruction; I know of another couple, like Bradley Rust Gray's Salt (2003), which I've never seen; I'm sure there's something absolutely terrible out there that I don't want to know about, so don't tell me. But nothing animated comes to mind, and I am profoundly grateful there is not, in fact, a recent Disney take on the Great Selkie of Sule Skerry; I would have to punch someone. Based on Aisling and Crom Cruach of The Secret of Kells, I'll much rather take my chances with Cartoon Saloon.

In other news, I will be spending damn near the entire day tomorrow at the Actors' Shakespeare Project's The Coveted Crown: Henry IV, Parts 1 & 2. I hope it will be awesome; the closest I have come to being disappointed in one of their productions was merely enjoying last June's Much Ado About Nothing very much. (I am optimistic: its Prince Hal is Bill Barclay, whose Bosola in The Duchess of Malfi almost singlehandedly made me fall in love with the play.) Then I can go around thinking in pentameter for a week.

And the rehearsal last night was great.

Comments

[ron-drummond.livejournal.com]

An eloquent review of The Secret of Kells, thank you for reposting. I wonder how your view of the film will change on further viewings; I wonder the same of my own. I saw it in the theater once only last winter, and was very moved by the artistry but relatively unmoved by the tale. The dark dream where our young hero battles the leading line of the self-creating art seemed profound in a way that transcended everything else in the film: it was like the ultimate and final ever-opening or ever-closing door out, or in; a perfect living iconography of the phenomenon of bottomlessness as it intersects the deep structures that make and unmake it and that are made and unmade by it in turn. Energy flows through structure; structure both limits and liberates energy in one and the same gesture. I'm not sure I've ever seen that process more purely, viscerally, spiritually conveyed in moving imagery.

[sovay]

I'm not sure I've ever seen that process more purely, viscerally, spiritually conveyed in moving imagery.

I loved that art in this film is magic: it is a defense against the dark where neither faith nor walls have any force. You think at first that Colum Cille won the first eye from Crom Cruach the same way Saint Patrick defeated him in other legends, by the saint's strength of God, but maybe he too just had a piece of chalk in his pocket.

[teenybuffalo.livejournal.com]

I liked Aisling and her bellbottom legs. Also the way her face and hair become her whole body when she's climbing, like a white tadpole.

That was a refreshing movie, The Secret of Kells. For one thing, it assumed that the viewers were reasonably bright and could figure small motivations out on their own. I'm thinking of the part where Aisling sings the little song that begins, "You must go where I cannot," and sends Pangur Ban into the church. Because she can't go into a church because she's a pre-Christian spirit or a pagan goddess or something else. An even slightly less skilled filmmaker would have stated that idea in so many words, but these folks didn't.

There's no arguing with tastes, I know, but I really liked the demonic, inhuman orc Vikings, because of a prior prejudice. Not that I dislike Vikings. Quite the other way around. But I think they're like pirates: they turn up in a cheery, sanitized edition in popular culture over and over ("How To Train Your Dragon", for one thing), with no acknowledgement of what makes them Vikings, not just Norsemen. You never see them looting, pillaging, killing, raping, settin' fire to stuff or ripping off churches and coastal farmers--they're just the amusingly violent guys from the Asterix comics. That given, I felt OK about their being used as orcs this time around. Even the art style suited them--through Aidan's eyes, these are the demons to whom nothing is sacred, and so they look like big ugly scrawls instead of Kells-people.

[sovay]

I liked Aisling and her bellbottom legs. Also the way her face and hair become her whole body when she's climbing, like a white tadpole.

She simply doesn't look like the other characters, because she's not. She doesn't move through the world the same way.

Because she can't go into a church because she's a pre-Christian spirit or a pagan goddess or something else. An even slightly less skilled filmmaker would have stated that idea in so many words, but these folks didn't.

Yes. And it is never explained precisely what she is, which is also correct; and there is not even a hint of romance, which I can guarantee a lesser or more conventional film would have gone for. There is no more resolution with the adult Brendan than you would expect from an immortal creature that helped you once when you were a child and she liked you.

Even the art style suited them--through Aidan's eyes, these are the demons to whom nothing is sacred, and so they look like big ugly scrawls instead of Kells-people.

Understood. We can still agree on Peter Cushing and Flanders and Swann.

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

I appreciate the attribution, but I didn't actually tell you about Tomm Moore's next film, I just said I wondered what he was doing next. It's good news to hear and I very much look forward.

[sovay]

It's good news to hear and I very much look forward.

The fifty seconds of teaser trailer are very promising.

[handful-ofdust.livejournal.com]

One of the reasons that I wanted my bad Irish hex in The Heart's Filthy Lesson to call himself Columcille was because of the crazier stories told about that saint, which all seem to involve books: That he miraculously set his own hand on fire in order to copy another monk's book in a single night, for example. Or that--also being a prince--he was able to start a war in order to get hold of a book at one point, possibly the same book. Any logomancer would do the same, with or without divine help!

[sovay]

One of the reasons that I wanted my bad Irish hex in The Heart's Filthy Lesson to call himself Columcille was because of the crazier stories told about that saint, which all seem to involve books

That is totally fair. They mostly do here, too.

That he miraculously set his own hand on fire in order to copy another monk's book in a single night, for example.

. . . I am kind of sorry they didn't animate that one.

[strange-selkie.livejournal.com]

Well, I would like to be the next big thing. A vampire may be grand, but it won't pay the rental, etc., etc.

I enjoy being next to you in an issue of Not one of Us. Prrt.

[sovay]

Well, I would like to be the next big thing.

Okay, I'd support that. But there really would be terrible YA.

I enjoy being next to you in an issue of Not one of Us. Prrt.

It should happen more often.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

Nice review. I think I'm going to have to see this one.

I am profoundly grateful there is not, in fact, a recent Disney take on the Great Selkie of Sule Skerry...

I'm grateful as well.

I hope you've very much enjoyed the Shakespeare. Looking forward to reading posts in pentameter from you.

And the rehearsal last night was great.

Excellent. If you don't mind my asking, what was this rehearsal for?

[sovay]

Looking forward to reading posts in pentameter from you.

I'm afraid it's only a prose review, but it does contain quotations?

If you don't mind my asking, what was this rehearsal for?

Music to Cure MS. Tell your friends!

[kenjari.livejournal.com]

I loved The Secret of Kells - Other Kenjari and I saw it in the West Newton theater last year for his birthday. It was such a feast for the eyes, and I particularly liked the way it combined the simple with the intricate. Now that I think about that, that mixture is a bit like the nature of a lot of early medieval art. I feel much the same way about the Vikings as teenybuffalo. I was also quite happy that we were spared a Disney-esque "befriending a Viking kid so we can see that they are not all bad" subplot.

[sovay]

I was also quite happy that we were spared a Disney-esque "befriending a Viking kid so we can see that they are not all bad" subplot.

I would not have wanted a Disney Viking moment. I would just have found them scarier if they had been human.

[eredien]

I've been wanting to see Secret of Kells since last year. Where did you see it?

[sovay]

Where did you see it?

Netflix; Viking Zen was able to stream it. It's also out on DVD.

[helivoy.livejournal.com]

I also found The Secret of Kells fascinating on several levels. I wrote a review of it in connection with definitions and assumptions about popular culture: The Andreadis Unibrow Theory of Art.

To my immense surprise and gratification, I got comments from the film's scriptwriter and its US distributor as well as a private note from Tomm Moore who is indeed making a selchie film titled Song of the Sea. In spirit it will be closer to Roan Inish than Ondine, I think.

Regarding the Vikings, I think everything is seen from Brendan's POV. They actually resemble Eisenstein's Teutonic Knights in Alexandr Nevsky. Pangur Bán has her own lovely story -- she comes from a ninth-century poem written on the margins of a manuscript. The poem is read in the original Gaelic at the closing credits of the film by Gleason, who is the voice of Brendan's uncle, the abbott.

[sovay]

I wrote a review of it in connection with definitions and assumptions about popular culture: The Andreadis Unibrow Theory of Art.

—shall go read that.

In spirit it will be closer to Roan Inish than Ondine, I think.

I really am looking forward to it. I saw also that Moore has done two Irish-language graphic novels about Saint Patrick, which I won't be able to read unless someone translates them, but I approve of their existence.

Pangur Bán has her own lovely story -- she comes from a ninth-century poem written on the margins of a manuscript. The poem is read in the original Gaelic at the closing credits of the film by Gleason, who is the voice of Brendan's uncle, the abbott.

Yes. I discovered Pangur Bán through Samuel Barber's Hermit Songs when I was in high school, so including him in the film made me happy straight off; getting the poem as a kind of epilogue was a bonus.

[ericmvan.livejournal.com]

Having finally seen (and adored) this, I am very curious to learn what you think the narrative flaws were. Reading your description of them, I can only hazard a guess. I'm wondering whether you thought that the Abbott's character arc had a Disney ending, but to me it felt that the film was headed in that direction from the beginning; the architectural blueprints that cover the Abbott's walls so resemble manuscript illuminations that it's clear he has never lost his love for them, only sublimated it to what he believes to be the better good.

I also was not bothered by the monstrous Vikings, since they so clearly were from the Irish point of view.

I also found it very interesting that the actual content of the Book of Kells (i.e., the four Gospels) is never even alluded to, a very telling omission given the utterly pagan nature of the world outside the abbey walls. It prioritizes the illumination of the ms. over its text, something that would, I think, be heretical to Christians, and by doing so makes a very great claim about the power of art (a theme that of course climaxes wonderfully in the confrontation with Crom Cruach).

[sovay]

I'm wondering whether you thought that the Abbott's character arc had a Disney ending, but to me it felt that the film was headed in that direction from the beginning; the architectural blueprints that cover the Abbott's walls so resemble manuscript illuminations that it's clear he has never lost his love for them, only sublimated it to what he believes to be the better good.

I wasn't referring to his ultimate appreciation of Brendan's manuscript: I mean that I expected him to die in the Viking attack on Kells. I thought he had. It would have felt narratively correct. Sometimes people die and there's never a chance to make things right with them. The fact that he opened his eyes again and carried on living felt like a cheat, a conventionality: only in the movies is there always reconciliation.

I also was not bothered by the monstrous Vikings, since they so clearly were from the Irish point of view.

But we see Aisling and Crom Cruach as they are. See previous reply to kenjari; I would have found human marauders more interesting and more frightening than blind monsters.