SONG OF THE SEA. True work of art

The Secret of Kells proved the enormous potential of Cartoon Saloon, a studio working with a distinctive, recognizable line and relying on traditional methods of creating animation. Their next film is an even greater achievement, fulfilling the artistic ambitions of its creators. Screenings of Cartoon Saloon animations resemble leafing through an ornate, intricately crafted children’s picture book. An aura of wonder and mysticism hovers over the Irish studio’s productions. The heroes of their films live in a world where everyday life intersects with magic. Young Brendan resides in an ascetic monastery, tightly cut off from its surroundings and supervised by his uncle, and thanks to a mysterious book he gains access to an entirely different dimension — a realm of symbols and legends. In Song of the Sea, we encounter a similar starting point.

Ben and Saoirse are siblings living on a rocky island. They are raised by their father, Conor, who works at the lighthouse. He deeply loves his children, but he is withdrawn, taciturn, timid, and carries sadness in his gaze. This stems from a traumatic experience years earlier: the mysterious death of his pregnant wife. The baby, however, was saved — a girl named Saoirse. As the years pass, she still cannot speak. Her brother Ben is resourceful and feels at ease alongside his father, but he resents the burden of looking after his younger sister, who irritates him. The three live cut off from the world, with no need for contact with anyone outside — and no one ever visits them either. Days drift by slowly, filled with idleness, boredom, and a vague sense of waiting.

Suddenly, extraordinary things begin to happen around them. The past returns to claim the heroes, pulling them off their well-trodden paths. Saoirse must fulfill her destiny. She has inherited magical abilities from her mother, for like her, she belongs to the selkie — benevolent beings from Celtic mythology, deities of order who live in harmony with the natural world.

Tomm Moore, director and screenwriter, consistently expands the story’s universe and introduces new characters, giving the tale a foundational, almost mythic quality. We begin on the bleak, wind-battered island, only to move — much to the children’s misfortune — to the city with an overprotective grandmother. In parallel, we enter a complex magical world that desperately needs Saoirse’s help. Symbolic figures appear: an old man whose infinitely long hair holds memories, an old woman trapping human emotions in jars. One island is, in fact, a giant turned to stone centuries ago. These elements lend the events of Song of the Sea a mythical sense of time and scale.

The characters we meet are also variations of those found in the non-magical world. Perhaps this is the perspective of two children escaping tragic, sorrowful events into a world of fantasy, seeking refuge there? At the same time, it is undoubtedly a beautiful, subtle allegory. In one of the final scenes, these two layers of the story confront each other. Saoirse must choose which order of the world she belongs to, which she wants to believe in. The viewer must make the same choice.

On the narrative level, Moore combines an epic tale reaching back to the roots of our history with an intimate, personal tragedy unfolding within a single family. These strands intertwine and complement each other. The mythical fairy tale, drawn from Irish folklore, can also be read as a reflection on grief and the process of working through it — a confrontation with inner fears and a return to life. In truth, the most important character, undergoing the greatest transformation, is Conor. A hidden figure, in the background and taciturn, he embodies the film’s central journey. Song of the Sea offers a multilayered, nuanced screenplay, open to multiple readings and interpretations.

Moore’s animation is also a nearly indescribable aesthetic experience. On a formal level, it is a gem — a stunning visual, almost painterly achievement. Every frame of the film could be paused, framed, and hung on a wall. Song of the Sea is hypnotic, captivating the viewer with its wealth of detail and symbolism, refusing to let the eye stray even for a moment. This is enriched by a Celtic-inspired score that heightens the sense of wonder. It is a vision both sincere and immersive. A true work of art.