The story begins with the birth of Ben's sister Saoirse (Lucy O'Connell). Shortly before giving birth, his mother Bronagh (Lisa Hannigan) disappears, leaving the child behind. It is later reveled that Bronagh was a selkie and was turned to stone by the sea-witch Macha (Fionnula Flanagan), who, ever since her son, the giant Mac Lir, had his heart broken, has made it her mission to take away the pain of others, bottling up their emotions in literal jars. The story is all about coming to terms with grief, which most of the characters are running away from in one way or another. Ben has repressed his memory of his mother's death and harbors a deep seated fear of the sea (it later revealed that she drowned, or seemed to), though he still cherishes his seaside home as it reminds him of her. His father, though he initially tries to cherish the memory of his wife and keep his family in their old home is ultimately persuaded by his overprotective mother (voiced, like Macha, by Fionnula Flanagan) to separate and she takes them to her home in the city. It is only when these characters confront their fear that the world can be set right.
This theme is a little lacking in subtlety at times, which is certainly the film's biggest flaw. Nevertheless, it is often handled quite deftly. Take Macha, who is intentionally paralleled with Ben's overprotective grandmother. Though her motives are relatable her actions are clearly wrong and she is able to acknowledge this and to make amends before the end of the film (the grandmother, on the other hand, who simply made an error in judgement because she didn't fully understand the situation, is embraced by Ben's family at the end of the film without any resentment). This stands in contrast to mythical villains in other animated movies (Moana comes to mind) who never take responsibility for the damage they've done.
Tomm Moore depicts a faerie world that exists right on the fringes of the ordinary human one. Characters travel back and forth between the two worlds in an almost matter-of-fact manner, to the point where it is hard to distinguish one from the other. This, in my estimation, is the mark of good fantasy. The film also features all kinds of Catholic milieu (again, like Kells) which exist side-by-side with the film's pagan elements, though they never seem to possess the same sense of mystery or enchantment. This may be a matter for concern for concerned Catholic parents, but it is less problematic then the pagan/Christian dichotomy in Kells.
Song of the Sea features some really gorgeous, stylized animation. It takes the angular style established in Secret of the Kells and improves on it, feeling more natural and utilizing more fluidity of movement. The characters, as a result, are more expressive (which is fitting since they are also more fleshed out from a writing perspective). The design is simply beautiful but the film is also rich in its subtle use of of light and shadow. The score, by Bruno Coulais and Irish folk music band Kíla (who also collaborated on Secret of the Kells), is stirring but also subtle, and is used sparingly to punctuate emotional moments, rather then serving as a constant accompaniment to the characters journey, as is so common in modern cinema.
Song of the Sea is another solid effort from Tomm Moore and Cartoon Saloon, improving, in many ways on their first feature while retaining its low-key, subtle sensibilities.
Score: 9/10
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