Is “Brave” as lackluster as last year’s “Cars 2,” one of the most unnecessary sequels ever? Not so much; at least the plot of “Brave” is more straightforward than that stupidly twisty spy farce. But in its directness, “Brave” is too obvious, too unsurprising. It lacks the emotional wallop of “Up,” the glee of “Toy Story,” the yearning of “Finding Nemo,” or the cleverness of “The Incredibles,” instead choosing to use Pixar’s first female protagonist as blandly as you’d expect.
Merida is a princess, you see, but she wants to fall in love, choose her own husband, and fight for what she believes in! So basically just like Belle and Jasmine and all those protagonists from other Disney movies, but with bouncier, more luxurious red hair! (According to The Wall Street Journal, it took 1,500 CGI curls to make Merida’s hair. Whoa.)
Ah, if only such close attention was paid to making the story more riveting. All the narration, old-timey legend, and 3-D in the world can’t buoy “Brave” past its very limited narrative. It’s all trimly presented, explained, and wrapped up in 95 minutes, and a second viewing won’t add anything to the story. “Brave” is simply what you see onscreen, with no further depth at all.
“Brave” takes place in the Scottish kingdom of DunBroch, where King Fergus (voiced by Billy Connolly) lives with his wife Queen Elinor (voiced by Emma Thompson, of “Nanny McPhee Returns,” “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2,” and “Men in Black 3”) and their daughter Merida (voiced by Kelly Macdonald, of “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2”). For young Merida’s birthday, Fergus gets her a bow and arrow—but also is attacked by the enormously huge, massively angry bear Mor’du, who claims Fergus’s left leg, inspiring the king’s need for vengeance.
But some years later—maybe a decade or so—Merida is now a young teenager, helping her triplet little brothers get into trouble and ignoring her mother’s calls for duty and responsibility. She doesn’t want to sew, enunciate, or be a kind and orderly queen, like Elinor. She wants to ride horses and shoot her bow and arrow and swordfight, pastimes her mother rejects—especially when it comes time to marry Merida off to a son of one of the kingdom’s three clans. The ancient marriage ritual has helped keep the peace between the various families, and when Merida vows to buck tradition and refuse the pairing, she’s wreaking more havoc than she initially understands. She promises to “change my fate,” but when she makes a stand by embarrassing all the clan’s sons, she’s inviting a boatload of trouble.
Elinor is humiliated, Fergus is worried about his rule, and the clansmen are feeling slighted. So Merida decides to use a little magic to get her way, a choice that backfires on her and could tear her family—and all of DunBroch—apart.
Movies about strong female protagonists are not bad things; we’ve had a variety of them this year, with “The Hunger Games,” “Mirror Mirror,” “Snow White and the Huntsman,” “Prometheus,” “Haywire,” and “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” But while “Brave” presents itself as an undeniable fairy tale, it doesn’t bring anything new or groundbreaking to that much-used genre. For years Disney princesses have yearned to make something more of themselves, from Pocahontas to Mulan, and Merida has little character development to set her apart.
We see so little of Merida’s childhood that she comes off spoiled, bratty, and entitled when we’re supposed to be rooting for her, and it’s a fault of writers Mark Andrews, Steve Purcell, Brenda Chapman and Irene Mecchi that we don’t know her specific age when Elinor decides she’s ready for marriage. More details about Merida and Elinor would help flesh out their strained relationship: Was Merida always a tomboy? Who was Elinor before she married Fergus? Did she have hopes and dreams of her own? Elinor says stereotypical parental things, talking about how she’s “giving [Merida] everything we never had” and “marriage [isn’t] the end of the world,” but nothing about her character feels personalized. It’s a bunch of mother stereotypes thrown together with a Scottish accent.
That’s not to say the film isn’t, at times, quite beautiful visually—Merida’s hair is clearly attention-grabbing, and so are some slow-motion shots of her galloping on her horse Agnes or attacking targets with her bow and arrow—but it’s also hampered by unnecessary 3-D, which blurs together the film’s sharpness. Sweeping landscape shots become green and brown blobs, dulling the effect of the Scottish Highlands.
And, let’s be honest: It’s always nice to see a strong female protagonist for young girls, who can need all the pop-culture trailblazing they can get.
But if you take no risks, you’ll get no rewards, and that’s certainly true of “Brave.” It’s tidy and pleasant but not iconic or memorable, with a cast of supporting characters who serve no purpose, an evil witch who fulfills every fairy tale cliché out there, and a protagonist who makes sympathy and empathy a challenge. In comparison with other Pixar movies, “Brave” isn’t the worst—but it’s not the highest-flying arrow, either.
In fact, it’s very easily outshone by the Pixar short appearing in front of the film, “La Luna”; the 7-minute flick about the moon, stars, and men who tend to them is more whimsical, magical, and thought-provoking than most of “Brave.”
