The Book of Kells is an ancient Irish manuscript inked in the eighth century to honor Saint Columba, traveling from Scotland to Ireland during completion in the wake of vicious Viking attacks, somehow surviving until the present day. If one were so curious, they could peer at the gospels, 680 pages in length, written on calfskin, as they are currently on display at Trinity College in Dublin. In the digital age, we take for granted the fact that not only did our ancestors slave over handwritten manuscripts, but that each piece and font of inspiration was the result of not only hard work and dedication but, in the case of the Book of Kells, survival.
Also making its way from the very same direction is the unfinished Book of Kells, in the hands of an elderly monk seeking an apprentice. While there is respect on both sides, he clashes with the Abbot over the importance of the book, while secretly recruiting Brendan to add his nuance and style to the remaining folios. To continue working on the book, Brendan must procure ink from a very specific berry only found in the wilderness. So begins Brendan’s journey, into the mystery of the woods and to his young adult phase. “The Secret of Kells” doesn’t make the mistake of complicating this any further, content to allow for the free-flowing animation involved in creating the forest to envelope Brendan in a jazzy, near-improvisational pattern. It’s a much-needed reminder that the potential for traditional animation to seem alive and unpredictable on the big screen will always be preferable to the pragmatic approach of the 3D computer animated toons.
Once in the woods, Brendan acquaints himself with the film’s most beguiling creation, a tree-hopping wolf-girl named Aisling. Short of stature, she gets by through her abilities of transformation and, most pleasing to the eye, her elaborately lengthy mane of hair. The less-is-more approach to animation is apparent in her physicality, as she is inked with, seemingly, one color, white, and one outlining, blue, and yet her clothes, hair and skin are immaculately detailed.
With the oncoming wave of bruising vikings on the horizon, creating violence not bloodless but still imaginatively vague (yes, you can bring the kids, fairweather parents), Brendan must conquer his fears of the forest monster Crom Cruach. The shadowy menace of that evocatively-named beast of Irish lore comes alive in a thrilling sequence in the film’s third act as a geometrically-nightmarish dragon our hero has to convince to become an ouroboros. Director Tomm Moore‘s greatest accomplishment is that in this sequence, we care as much for Brendan’s safety as we do about his growth in the face of overwhelming adversity.
No matter the expansion (and this is a very tiny release, we assume), “The Secret of Kells,” with its period setting, subtle, gentle tone and fairly downbeat ending was never going to win very many fans, and with its brief runtime and narrow focus, it exists as more of a testament to the survival of the source than as something you can take home and digest. But what style! Moore co-founded Cartoon Saloon, producers of several animated commercials and shorts before “Kells” and clearly is as much of an artist as a student of the art, and the love and dedication for the style is apparent in every frame of the film. Animation fans would dare not miss it. [A-]
