Brave

Brave occupies a peculiar position in the contemporary cultural landscape, arriving in 2012 at a moment when progressive sensibilities regarding female agency had begun to calcify into commercial formula. The film's central conceit, a princess who rejects arranged marriage in favor of self-determination, would have registered as genuinely transgressive in 1992. By 2012, it was merely competent. Pixar's first female-led feature derives much of its cultural cachet from the sheer fact of Merida's prominence rather than any meaningful interrogation of power structures. She is allowed to be unruly, independent, and skilled with a bow. She is not, however, asked to contend with any systemic obstacles that cannot be solved through magical intervention and maternal reconciliation.

The film's relationship to progressive consciousness is fundamentally one of aesthetics rather than substance. Merida's rebellion against tradition takes the form of archery competition and romantic refusal, markers of individualism that align neatly with consumer capitalism. Her journey culminates not in the dismantling of patriarchal structures but in a better understanding between herself and her mother, a reconciliation that leaves the underlying feudal hierarchy intact. We might charitably describe this as gentle progressivism, the sort that allows the kingdom to continue functioning while granting its female heir a slightly larger sphere of personal choice.

The film's Scottish setting provides cultural flavor without cultural engagement. The Scottish Highlands are rendered as a lush fantasy backdrop, all misty mountains and ancient magic, populated by exaggerated stereotypes that suggest a relationship to Scottish identity that is decorative rather than authentic. In this respect, Brave is of a piece with countless family entertainments that treat cultural specificity as ornament. It is a competent film that means well, which is precisely the problem with much contemporary commercial art aspiring to progressive credentials.