A movie theater can’t have a hearth or campfire — too dangerous. Yet Irish director Tomm Moore’s animated beauty tells the sort of story that makes you crave the flickering of firelight or wish for the warmth of a blanket pulled up to your chin while mom or dad reads a bedtime tale.
There is much that soothes and thrills in this folklore-steeped story of a boy, his sister and their mission to protect vital magical beings, in particular a Selkie. The Scottish/Irish folkloric staple has the shape of a seal in the ocean and a human on land.
Before sorrow strikes the sweet lighthouse family, Ben’s pregnant mother, Bronach, tells him that he will be the “world’s best big brother.” When Bronach disappears but sister Saoirse (Lucy O’Connell) arrives, Ben (David Rawle) is less than generous. For his part, father Conor (Brendan Gleeson) has slumped into melancholy.
In many ways, “Song of the Sea” is a journey to the fulfillment of Bronach’s original assessment. And the movie celebrates the special if under-represented romance of siblinghood.
As for the movie’s adults, they seem to have counterparts in the mythical realm. For instance, the Owl Macha — bent on hunting down the last Selkie child — looks an awful lot like Ben and Saoirse’s strict grandmother (Fionnula Flanagan).
Along their journey, Ben and Saoirse encounter the wondrous or menacing: fairies rushing to save their sphere, dive-bombing owls. Floating downward into a watery world, Ben meets an amazing long-haired fellow — each strand of his tresses represents a story, though his own short-term memory is shot.
Moore sets his story in 1987, and “Song of the Sea” is also about a changing Ireland. Moore makes an elegant argument for the need to honor the old stories. He recognizes the way belief systems — ancient and modern — compete but also entwine.
Woven of greens and blues and ochres, Moore’s scenery is vivid but never brash. His visually beguiling images coupled with gently tugging story-telling have earned the young animation director his second Oscar nomination. His first came in 2009 for which also celebrated Irish lore.
Composer Bruno Coulais and the Irish band Kila have created a traditional and folk-inflected orchestral score that adds to the movie’s lush allure.
Irish artist Lisa Hannigan sings but also voices Bronach’s dulcet tones. Is it any wonder her son aches for her voice, her enveloping presence?
“Remember me in your stories and in your songs,” Bronach tells Ben. It’s nurturing advice worth heeding. Moore clearly has.
Lisa Kennedy: 303-954-1567, lkennedy@denverpost.com or twitter.com/bylisakennedy
