A Walt Disney Production: “Brother Bear”

As I recall, the first four or so movies that I saw in theaters as a child were from Disney. Like I mentioned last month, the first was Lilo & Stitch. Then came my first Pixar movie, Finding Nemo, and Freaky Friday (which was probably my first live-action movie). I remember all of those trips fairly well, but one of my most vivid memories of an experience watching a movie in the theater was when my mom took me and my younger sister to see Brother Bear. I don’t know how much I liked it at the time (though I remember enjoying it well enough), but it introduced me to not only a culture that I had never been exposed to, but some narrative events and themes that were hard for me to process at the time. Of course, it being a Disney animated film, there was enough lightheartedness to keep us entertained, but at the time, it may have been the saddest film I had ever seen. Even now, I’m surprised that there’s a movie like this in the Disney Animation canon.

Background

In the mid-1990s, as Disney was thriving off the success of The Lion King, then-CEO Michael Eisner suggested the main animation division start the development process for another animal feature in the same vein. The basic premise of a North American-set film about bears soon followed, catching the interest of soon-to-be co-director Bob Walker, who had grown up around animals and was excited to be given a chance to animate them. The North American setting would then be more localized to around Alaska and Canada following the first ice age. Following a long-standing practice at the studio that continues to this day and is shared by newer studios, the visual team took several research trips throughout the United States: mainly to national parks and other natural points of interest in Alaska and Wyoming (most notably Yosemite), as well as Sequoia National Park in California. Similar to how Dumbo had influenced Lilo & Stitch, visual artists on Brother Bear examined the style and colors in Bambi to influence their backgrounds, seeing it as a “touchstone” of Disney’s animal films. As a result, the environments in the film are more artistic and aesthetically appealing than they are completely realistic and accurate.

After deciding that the film would focus on the Inuit culture from the northern region of the continent, the story team extensively researched Inuit tools, clothing, music, and traditions. Drawing inspiration from Inuit and Native American legends of transformations of humans into animals (some of which are presented as the stories of how certain species were created), they approached the film as a sort of origin story as to how the indigenous peoples of North America came to respect nature so deeply. Only one major change occurred in the script after pre-production had begun — originally, the character of Koda, Kenai’s surrogate little brother, didn’t exist. In his place was an older bear named Grizz who acted as a sort of father or brother figure to Kenai. The role had already been cast with Michael Clarke Duncan, who had already recorded some of his lines, but writers were dissatisfied with the story, and Grizz was replaced by a cub that Kenai would begrudgingly allow to lead him on his journey and ultimately take responsibility for. However, the production team liked Duncan’s performance so much that they fit him into the film in a smaller role, a bear named Tug with a similar design to Grizz, who first appears in the second act when Kenai and Koda reach the salmon run.

After the exceptionally positive response to the Tarzan soundtrack (whose main track earned both an Academy Award and a Golden Globe for Best Original Song), Phil Collins was asked to return to the studio to write the songs for Brother Bear, along with the former film’s composer, Mark Mancina. This time, however, Collins worked much more closely with the writers and was a part of the story process throughout most of production. He also collaborated with Mancina on the score, marking Collins’ first endeavor into this type of music composition. Also unlike Tarzan, only two of the songs written for the film are sung by Collins himself. The opening song “Great Spirits” is performed by Tina Turner, while the song “Welcome,” which was influenced by Motown and soul music, was sung by The Blind Boys of Alabama. Most confusingly, the song that plays during Kenai’s transformation sequence was sung by the acclaimed Bulgarian Women’s Choir, despite the song itself being in the Inuit language, having been translated by a native speaker from Collins’ original English lyrics. The songs and score were all influenced by early Native instruments, but since they mostly consisted of different types of drums, more melodic instruments were added to the non-diegetic music.

Sadly, Brother Bear marked the last film produced at Disney’s Florida animation studio in Walt Disney World. After production wrapped, around fifty animators were laid off, and the division’s next feature in development was cancelled months later. The studio was officially shut down months later in early 2004, as the entire feature animation division of the company was focusing on converting from hand-drawn to computer-generated animation. The Burbank studio’s next film, Home on the Range (which I’ll have the obligation of examining next month), continued production, but they would soon begin to sell their animation desks and other equipment used for the traditional medium. Disney’s relationship with Pixar was also struggling around this time, and the company was starting to be associated, in the eyes of many, more with subpar sequels to their beloved films than with creating more beloved films to follow in their footsteps. Brother Bear would receive one of these infamous cash-ins in 2006, despite having been an overall disappointment both critically and financially. But either the critical response was too harsh, or it simply lowered my expectations, because I found the original film to be much more solid than a 38% on Rotten Tomatoes would indicate.

Positives

Rewatching this film made me mourn for Disney’s hand-drawn days. Not that they don’t excel in computer animation, but their 2D style in the 1990s and 2000s is something that just can’t be captured through any other medium. Brother Bear is no exception to this, with expressive characters — in a more natural manner than in Emperor’s New Groove — and stunning colors, shifting from a muted palette to a more vibrant one after Kenai’s transformation (the picture also expands to Cinemascope after this point). The characters, human and animal alike, are all visually distinct, save for two moose that we’ll talk about later, and the representation of nature is striking. Some of the film’s most emotional moments are lighter on dialogue, making more use of far-away angles, dim lighting, and a disruption of or by natural surroundings and elements to convey the tone. Interestingly, the darkest scenes — both tonally and visually — all occur in the first act, before Kenai is turned into a bear. After his change, the entire film is brighter regardless of the setting or tone of a scene, representing his change in perspective and attitude. Even when he confesses killing Koda’s mother to Koda himself, though the sky is dark, it’s still more colorful than in the two death scenes in the first act. This, to me, signifies that the confession, though painful for both characters, still comes from Kenai having grown and being set on the course to redeeming himself.

All of the most prominent characters are layered and identifiable, and the voice cast matches the characters and their emotions wonderfully. Joaquin Phoenix’s Kenai is a young, stubborn boy who has to come of age by experiencing major transitions including the loss of a family member, and making serious mistakes that he must own up to and grow from. His journey presents an important message about the value of compassion, showing that a life of ignorance and hate prevents people from ever being truly happy and fulfilled. In a society that often portrays manhood as something to be achieved through violence and physical traits, a movie that shows a male lead achieving it by way of humility and empathy is a welcome change of pace. The relationship between him and his older brothers feels natural; they often argue and tease each other, but their care for each other also shows through. Rarely does one of them say something truly mean-spirited to another, and when they do, it’s only in moments of grief when they’re still processing their emotions.

Many find the cub Koda to be irritating, but maybe I’m just a sucker for cute animals, because I found myself endeared by him. His relationship with Kenai starts out as typical buddy road-trip fare and develops into a genuinely sweet bond, with some quieter, warm moments between them counteracting all the times they butt heads. At times, his dialogue is a bit too modern, but the character himself is only ever annoying to the extent that a real child around voice actor Jeremy Suarez’s age at the time of recording would be; at his core, he still has good intentions and often wears Kenai’s patience simply because he doesn’t know better (though at times he annoys him on purpose — younger siblings have been known to do that). It was a smart change to have Kenai take on the role of an older brother after having grown up the youngest in his family. It’s always more interesting to see protagonists in a role they’ve never had to fill, and, after being initially dismissive of his totem, he has a clear progression into a young man who has come to understand the importance of love through his journey with Koda and others who he had once seen as “monsters.” In an unusual move for Disney, but one fitting its inspiration from Native American legends, Kenai chooses to remain a bear permanently at the end of the film. His decision to leave his old life behind for Koda’s sake shows how mature he has become, and all of the main characters receive closure in a way that doesn’t feel forced in an effort to write a classic happy ending: Kenai has one last moment as a human with Denahi and Sitka’s spirit before he turns back into a bear, as Koda has a chance to say goodbye to his mother before both spirits depart from the living world for good.

Despite some of the characters doing awful things, Brother Bear has no actual villain. Some of the biggest conflicts, if not from simply unfortunate circumstances, result from the protagonists’ actions, but they’re actions that the characters are able to make amends for. Kenai and Koda spend much of the film being chased by Kenai’s other older brother Denahi (voiced by the late Jason Raize), who is grief-stricken in his belief that Kenai has been killed by his bear form after pursuing Koda’s mother to avenge the death of their oldest brother Sitka (voiced by D.B. Sweeney, voice of Aladar in Dinosaur). A major theme of the narrative is perspective, and it’s not limited to Kenai’s change in perspective from the human world to the animal world. Sitka’s death and funeral is a sobering moment, and it makes you understand Kenai’s and Denahi’s grief throughout the rest of the film. Kenai’s transformation sequence is beautiful and mysterious (if frightening) from his perspective, but from where Denahi stands, it’s dark and spells doom. I remembered the reveal of the bear Kenai killed being Koda’s mother from seeing this film as a child, so I don’t know how obvious it may be to an adult seeing it for the first time, but the editing and music make you feel his horror at what he’s done and at Koda’s unknowing. Characters’ motivations are always clear: you know why Kenai is driven to kill the bear, why Sitka’s spirit transforms him, why Denahi hunts down the two bears, and why Koda is afraid of humans. No one is evil — at worst, they’re just misguided.

For the most part, the characters’ journeys are greatly helped by the film’s pacing. Lighthearted moments are well-balanced with the more serious and emotional ones. Mancina’s and Collins’ score is beautiful, but the composers knew when a scene needed to be more quiet, and the songs are spread out and nicely placed with only one exception, which I’ll discuss in the next section. It was the right call not to have Collins sing most of the songs, differentiating the soundtrack more from Tarzan. Though Brother Bear is not a musical, each song is directly connected to a certain character or theme (who knows, maybe this would have made a better Broadway show than Tarzan did). “Great Spirits” is a prologue with a sincere message encapsulating the film’s themes and serving as a vehicle to show off some beautiful visuals and charming character interactions, establishing the three brothers’ relationship and their culture’s connection to nature. “Transformation” is calming and unique among Disney’s classic repertoire, being the only song in the film sung entirely in Inuit. “On My Way” is fun and bouncy, matching Koda’s energetic nature. The choice to have “Welcome” sung by the Blind Boys of Alabama, a group that had been singing together since their childhood in 1939, emphasizes the song’s themes of friendship and togetherness, and the song itself is another buoyant moment in the film’s second act as Kenai warms up to the other bears. The two end credit songs, “Look Through My Eyes” and “No Way Out” are passionate and uplifting (in the case of the latter, more so the bridge and outro than the early verses and chorus), though a little more radio-friendly than specific to the film.

From what I was able to find, the cultural depiction is mostly accurate. A core belief in Inuit culture is that the souls of the deceased live on in another world and must be pleased by the living, or else they could cause misfortune. Animals are seen as having souls the same as humans, and if one is killed, it is important to follow customs such as saving a certain organ or body part to preserve the souls of the dead animal. I don’t believe that the totem ceremony depicted in the film is a real custom, though animal totems have traditionally been used to guide individuals, families, or tribes in numerous Native cultures, including Inuit. The use of the Inuit language at the very beginning of the film before Denahi’s narration shifts to English is a rarity in Disney films representing indigenous or foreign cultures, establishing right away that the English dialogue is actually non-diegetic and only for purposes of the English-speaking audience.

Negatives

Though I don’t think Brother Bear deserved its poor critical ratings, I can’t say I don’t understand where some of those critics were coming from. The second act starts off with a kind of jarring tone shift from the first, and the comedy throughout the film doesn’t quite land much of the time. I don’t mind so much that Kenai’s shock at realizing he’s been transformed is played comedically, but it becomes a bit too hammy with the almost out of nowhere physical comedy, fast editing, and upbeat music playing under the scene. All of that isn’t even really necessary, since the audience has just seen him being transformed onscreen; it’s a new development for the character, yes, but to us, it’s just redundant. In my opinion, all that was needed was Kenai seeing his reflection in the water, jerking back in fear, stumbling to the ground, and needing to be calmed by his tribe’s shaman. I wouldn’t take issue with this act being more comedic than dramatic if there were at least better jokes than there are here. Very few of them stand out, and some are just strange. For instance, the first time Kenai meets Koda, the former is hanging upside down from a rope trap in a tree and needs a stick on the ground to free himself. Koda offers his assistance, and this comes in the form of him beating Kenai with the stick, seeming to genuinely think he’s helping. Maybe the punchline is that Koda doesn’t realize he’s too short to loosen the rope around Kenai’s ankle, but that doesn’t come across clearly and the gag becomes confusing.

The characters who provide the most comic relief are two moose brothers named Rutt and Tuke (who are both voiced by Canadian actors, which, I’ll admit, is a nice touch), and while they’re not insufferable, they’re not particularly funny, either. They’re a bit overused, and their jokes usually don’t work. Them referring to Koda as “small-ish bear” because they don’t know his name is kind of cute, but the rest of their contributions to the movie are more in line with the irritating and repetitive “I Spy” gag. Finding Nemo has a similar joke between Marlin and Dory, but it makes sense in that movie because Dory has short-term memory loss and keeps forgetting that she’s “spied” Marlin so many times. In this movie, Rutt and Tuke keep “spying” trees because they’re the only prominent objects in their line of sight. This time, the punchline is easy to understand, but it could have been gotten across in a few seconds and doesn’t need to keep going for as long as it does. Aside from that, any more truly awful jokes are thankfully left for the end credit montage.

Although Kenai’s transformation works within the context of the story, Disney has strangely repeated the trope of a lead character of color being turned into an animal for the bulk of the film ever since Emperor’s New Groove. There’s always some kind of in-universe and meta justification for it, and not all of their films starring people of color have done this, but in those that do, the character typically appears as a human for less than thirty minutes of their screen-time. It could be argued that it’s no different from what happens in Brave or Beauty and the Beast, but white characters are hardly underrepresented in mainstream animation or film as a whole. Also similar to Emperor, none of the voice actors in Brother Bear are Native or Inuit except for the Inuit narrator in the first few seconds of the film. From what I could find, the writers and directors also did not employ any cultural consultants on the script, only did their own independent research and brought in native speakers of the language to record Denahi’s narration before it switches to English and to translate Phil Collins’ “Transformation.”

As I said earlier, I do very much enjoy the soundtrack to this film, but Collins’ songs are shoehorned in at times. The “Welcome” sequence is fun, but they could have cut a verse or two and trimmed the scene down a bit. The “On My Way” montage begins with Koda singing before it fades into Collins himself. This is explained as him behaving obnoxiously to annoy Kenai, but it’s very obviously an excuse to segue into the song. It’s diegetic, but not organic. However, both of those are nitpicks, especially in comparison to this soundtrack’s greatest offense, which infuriated me in ways I haven’t felt since Dinosaur.

If you’ve seen or heard any discussion of Brother Bear, you’ve likely heard tell of a pivotal scene in the third act that was totally botched and destroyed any heart or drama that was intended. Whatever you’ve heard critics say about it is probably true. But before I talk about it, I’ll discuss the scene that almost was. There is a deleted scene included on the DVD in which Kenai finally confesses to Koda that he killed his mother, and it was fantastic. The tension is perfect, building up to the heartbreak that Koda is about to suffer, a heartbreak that you feel along with him when Kenai finally tells him what happened to his mother. He doesn’t even need to outright say that he killed her, that comes across both to Koda and to the audience through Kenai’s anguished voice and expression. His framing of it as a story in the third person still makes it clear to Koda who he’s talking about, and it brings his character arc to a proper climax. Koda’s devastation and Kenai’s attempts to apologize when he knows that words can’t remedy what he’s done are heart-wrenching and more mature than a good amount of what we get from Disney movies.

But that’s not the scene we got.

The heaviest, most dramatic moment in the film, in which the lead character confesses to the character he’s come to care for as a brother that he unwittingly committed a horrible act against him, is told primarily through Phil Collins’ distracting British pipes explaining to us what the emotion of the scene is and instructing us on how to feel. “No Way Out,” a perfectly fine song on its own, drowns out the breaking point in the two leads’ friendship. We don’t hear how Kenai is telling the story to Koda, and it’s hard to tell at which point Koda starts to realize the truth. Rather than allow the voice actors to, well, act out this scene, Phil Collins sums it up for us in a rendition of his song that is only slightly less radio-friendly than the soundtrack version because it has the movie’s title in the second verse and ends after the first chorus, before the bridge that would give the song its happy ending. Directors Bob Walker and Aaron Blaise explained that the scene is edited this way because they felt that playing the song after the confession would be too redundant, so when they could have simply cut the song short or removed it altogether, they opted to combine the two elements, thus decimating any hope of emotional connection from the audience to this part of the movie. It was a bold move for Disney to have its lead character kill an innocent being in an animated film, but they watered it down with this absolute failure of a moment that was supposed to be a classic Disney tearjerker.

Even if the original version of the scene had been left in the final cut, what follows is weirdly rushed. Most of the pacing in the film is great, and I know the idea was for Kenai to learn a lesson about acceptance and become a better person, but Koda forgives him far too easily, without the two having been separated for very long at all. He is inspired to do so when he witnesses an argument between Rutt and Tuke, which ends with the two of them apologizing and (almost) saying they love each other despite their respective flaws and mistakes. It’s a good lesson in itself, but it makes it seem as though all Kenai did was say something mean and hurt Koda’s feelings, when what really happened was unbelievably serious. At least the film’s climax and conclusion is ultimately satisfying, or the entirety of it would have been completely ruined by Phil Collins’ earlier intrusion.

Final Thoughts

Brother Bear was another attempt by Disney to recapture what made The Lion King resonate with audiences, showcasing an amazing artistic interpretation of nature, but just missing the mark in terms of storytelling. I’ll give it credit for generally evoking the emotions it tries for during the more serious parts of the film, but it can’t quite balance good drama with good comedy the way Lilo & Stitch does. Seeing a setting other than a vaguely European and fully white made-up place is a welcome change, though liberties seem to have been taken with all but the most basic aspects of the culture. That being said, it still has engaging characters and beautiful music and visuals. The conflicts are executed in a way that’s deeper than their portrayal in movies like Pocahontas, even if they’re a bit bogged down by weak comedy and overstating the moral at times. It’s nowhere near on par with the films of the Disney Renaissance, but it definitely deserves more attention than it’s received in the fifteen years since its release.

Going in, I knew this film was far from the worst that Disney has to offer, but I was pleasantly surprised by just how much I enjoyed it, which I suspect is something I may not be able to say next month.

Originally published at miseensense.wordpress.com on June 24, 2018.