WOLFWALKERS. Beautiful, Thoughtful Cinema

The rapidly developing 17th-century town must face two obstacles. The first is the nearby forest, which prevents farmers from gaining new fields for cultivation; the second—more serious and demanding immediate action—is a pack of wolves spreading fear among the sheep herders. The ruling Lord Protector, Oliver Cromwell, naturally refuses to consider any half-measures. All wolves must be eliminated quickly, for only that can guarantee the peace and safety of the local community. The task is entrusted to Bill Goodfellowe, an experienced hunter who, after losing his wife, is left with only his teenage daughter Robyn—the central figure of Wolfwalkers.

Wolfwalkers is the fourth feature-length production from Cartoon Saloon (preceded by The Secret of Kells, Song of the Sea, and the markedly different The Breadwinner), the acclaimed Irish animation studio. Beyond its highly distinctive style, traditional hand-drawn technique, mystical atmosphere, and subtle musical setting, these films are united above all thematically.

Many motifs—family crisis, ecology, the search for identity, the relationship between rulers and the ruled—reappear with greater or lesser variations. Despite the diversity of historical contexts, each of the studio’s films ultimately acquires a universal resonance, and the fairy-tale aura and magical elements are far more than mere decoration. They give Cartoon Saloon’s animations a sense of lightness and the feeling of encountering something unique and undiscovered. A heap of gold to anyone who can, without a moment’s hesitation, point to the single best Cartoon Saloon film.

Wolfwalkers tells the story of a search for understanding between an overprotective, withdrawn father and his curious daughter who repeatedly defies his orders. On a broader level, the film deals with the disruption of balance between human greed and the defenseless natural environment, which is rapidly vanishing under pressure to meet our needs. In its core assumptions, Wolfwalkers is yet another variation on a story familiar from Pocahontas, Avatar, or Dances with Wolves. Here too, the characters’ transformation is tied to looking at themselves and their actions from a different perspective, reassessing the values they hold, and confronting what has always seemed frightening and unknown. The creators promote specific attitudes: questioning authority, curiosity, breaking patterns, and distrusting inherited norms. The magicians at Cartoon Saloon want us to “open our eyes,” since passivity is a guarantee of failure.

The film’s refined formal side—rich in detail, color, and ornamentation—makes watching Wolfwalkers feel like leafing through a centuries-old illuminated manuscript. This aesthetic impression, shaped by the studio’s unmistakable artistic linework, does not overshadow what is most important in Cartoon Saloon’s animation: the complex, troubled bond between Robyn and her father. The mother’s absence is mentioned only sporadically in brief conversations, yet one can clearly sense the emotional weight it carries for both characters. Bill clumsily tries to hide his helplessness, confusion, and lack of confidence in every decision he makes.

Robyn feels most herself when she’s saying “no!”, yet she, too, lacks a deeper sense of direction. Wolfwalkers does not offer quick answers or a tidy happy ending for either of them. Robyn and Bill will be searching for common ground until the very last minutes.

Director Tomm Moore avoids the simplest path and easy shortcuts. He enriches the story with deeper layers, gives it multiple contexts, and double-codes the entire narrative. It works flawlessly both as a fantastic adventure tale about a girl who transforms into a wolf at night, and as a grand allegory grappling with the civilizational challenges of our time.

It can also be read as an intimate legend about seeking one’s inner self, harmony, and peace—in which the wolf becomes a personal symbol for each viewer. Wolfwalkers is beautiful, thoughtful cinema. No matter how one chooses to read it.