The Secret of Kells Blu-ray delivers great video and reference-quality audio in this exceptional Blu-ray release
Twelve-year-old Brendan lives a quiet life at the Kells monastery with his uncle, Abbott Cellach, but this changes with the arrival of the charismatic Brother Aidan, a master illuminator who takes Brendan under his wing and teaches him his ancient art. In order to finish the magnificent book, Brendan must overcome his deepest fears on a journey that will take him beyond the abbey walls for the first time. In the enchanted forest beyond, he meets the good fairy Aisling, a mysterious young wolf-girl who rescues him from wolves and helps him to complete his dangerous and top-secret quest, even as the Viking hordes close in around them.
I was not prepared for The Secret of Kells. Some films catch you by surprise, others take your breath away, still others shatter your expectations and leave your heart trembling. But The Secret of Kells did something to me few other films have: it filled me with a sense of sheer, indescribable awe. The product of ten years of preparation and tireless work, the combined efforts of more than two-hundred artists and animators, the deceptively simple, utterly spectacular animation born by their hands and, above all else, the guiding vision of independent Irish filmmaker Tomm Moore, the Academy Award-nominated film is nothing short of a hand-drawn masterpiece. Some have called its story slight and its third act anticlimactic. I would challenge anyone who says as much to delve into the rich Irish history and complex mythology that permeates the tale. Some have called it a feast for the eyes, but an unfulfilling meal for the mind. To those I would say true art should never be digested solely as a visual experience. Make no mistake, The Secret of Kells is a feast for the eyes, but I promise you, there's something more meaningful, resonant and, dare I say, timeless brewing beneath its gorgeous exterior. Much, much more.
Seeing it all in motion is an entirely different experience...
On its surface, The Secret of Kells tells the homespun tale of a young scriptorium apprentice named Brendan (Evan McGuire) whose stern adoptive uncle, the once-diligent illuminator Abbot Cellach (Brendan Gleeson), surrendered his pen long ago to invest his talents in designing and overseeing the construction of a mighty wall around their religious order's monastery. Dark invaders from across the sea have begun pillaging Brendan's homeland and the Abbot is convinced a proper defense will spare their community from the coming storm. But the arrival of a kindly master illuminator, Brother Aidan (Mick Lally), and a tome of legend, a historical manuscript-in-progress called the Book of Kells, changes things as Brendan, for the first time in his life, becomes curious about the world beyond his uncle's wall. Venturing into the forbidden forest to find berries for a special green ink, Brendan meets a strange little girl named Aisling (Christen Mooney); a girl he soon realizes is a mystical guardian of the forest. As the foreign marauders draw closer and closer to the monastery, Brendan befriends Aisling, discovers a malevolent entity called Crom Cruach deep within the forest and is forced to choose between his uncle's practicality or grander pursuits: to follow in the footsteps of Aidan, claim his birthright and help complete the mysterious Book of Kells.
But The Secret of Kells tells a greater, truer story than many people on this side of the Atlantic realize. The Book of Kells isn't myth, it's one Ireland's most important national treasures. Created by Celtic monks skilled in Insular art at some point in the 9th Century, the exceedingly elaborate, four-volume illuminated manuscript survived countless raids, numerous threats and the perils of a very violent, very turbulent history. Passed down through twelve centuries, it resides in Dublin where its intricate artistry and elaborate pages are studied, its messages slowly but surely discerned, and its mysteries debated to this day. Brendan's monastery? The Abbey of Kells, a defensive fort where the book was created and eventually housed for centuries. Abbot Cellach? Lived and died within its walls. The dark marauders? Viking forces who swept across Ireland, raiding and pillaging anything in their path. The Crom Cruach? An ancient pagan deity whose worship is said to have been ended by St. Patrick himself. Aisling and the other mythological beings, iconography and supernatural elements that populate the film? All drawn from Irish folklore and legend. Understanding that The Secret of Kells isn't just a cute cartoon, a baseless fairy tale or simple fluff is essential to digging beneath its amazing visuals. It's the story of a work of art so important, so invaluable to its owners, that it's been passed from generation to generation. It's the story of a spirit of perseverance that couldn't be sacked or pillaged. A story that examines the tug of war between the literal and the imagination; between the practical strategists and the dream-driven visionaries; between those intent on building walls to save lives and those intent on creating art to preserve culture, ideas and beliefs.
That being said, you don't need a history lesson or a degree in Celtic mythology to enjoy The Secret of Kells. Even divorced from reality, even told as a simple fairy tale, Kells breathes more magic, more heart, more spirit and more inspiration into a single scene than the vast majority of animated films cram into ninety minutes. Hundreds of butterflies swirl into the sky as Aisling scurries up the side of an ancient oak. An angular shadow splinters into dozens of barbed spider-veins as an ageless creature attempts to pull itself out of its lair. Pulsing pictographs leap from a book as a boy flips through its pages and takes in its imaginary wonders. A piece of chalk becomes a mighty weapon used to trap and engulf an unspeakable evil. A fairy sings a haunting song of old as she transforms a helpful cat into a boundless wisp of smoke. Concentric circles mingle and unspool, foreboding clouds and rustling leaves perform a dance of organic beauty, and individual snowflakes and flaming arrows fall as a village burns. Bold splashes of color and sharp lines announce the arrival of invaders, a monk's death is denoted by a soft wave that washes his footprints from the sand, Aisling darts gracefully from branch to branch as her flowing white hair becomes a character all its own, and Brendan, eyes full of endearing wonder and palpable frustration, gazes at his towering uncle with renewed determination. Motion is fluid, expressions are mesmerizing, simplistic shapes are used to amazing effect, perspective and dimension is continually challenged, and character development, plot, emotions and visual flair become one. And by some mystifying miracle -- in spite of all the blood, sweat and tears that clearly went into each and every character design, background, flurry of movement and complex, animated flourish -- it all feels effortless.
The Secret of Kells isn't a movie that can be explained. It's a film that must be experienced. Just be warned: the last fifteen minutes will catch many a viewer off guard. Moore, co-director Nora Twoley and screenwriter Fabrice Ziolkowski's endgame isn't traditional or predictable, but it also doesn't provide the kind of closure most viewers will expect. Armed with a knowledge of the history behind the story and an understanding of the film's foremost message, it works, and works quite well. It's fitting, lyrical and even a bit poetic. Taken on its own merit though, particularly in light of the narrative thrust of the first hour, I could see how it might underwhelm anyone hoping for a more by-the-book animated film. Regardless, The Secret of Kells is a work of art and deserves to be seen, appreciated and treasured for years to come. Its animation, craftsmanship, story, historical and mythological overtones, rousing Celtic score, voice performances and characters are unforgettable. I'm off to watch it again...
The Secret of Kells bounds onto Blu-ray with a stunning, absolutely breathtaking 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer. Color, contrast and clarity are immaculate, and detail is impeccable. The lush green leaves of Aisling's forest, the gorgeous autumnal hues of the illuminators' society, the blood-red flames that arrive with the invaders, the darkness that stirs within the lair of the Crom Cruach, the bursts of light and dazzling primaries that grace Moore and Twomey's story... every element, every scene, every shot, every awe-inspiring frame is as brilliant and beautiful as it should be. But that's not all. Far from it. The film's line art, be it willow-wisp thin or lumbering-brute thick is sharp and striking throughout, and rich, inky blacks look as if they've been drizzled from the tip of a master artist's quill. The slightest imperfections reveal the hand-crafted wonders of Moore and Twomey's oh-so-fluid dreamscape, the bristle-brushed textures of the film's hand-drawn backgrounds are intact and each and every personal touch, from the tiniest flick of the animators' wrists to the most visceral gestures of their pens, has been perfectly preserved. Moreover, the image is crisp and clean from beginning to end, and there isn't a hint of aliasing, errant noise, ringing or any other anomaly that might hinder the experience.
Except one. Alas, a relatively small but bothersome technical issue holds the presentation back from perfection; a single strike against the transfer that pulled my final score down a full notch. Yep, you guessed it. Color banding. To be clear, the bands that appear are, by and large, faint and fleeting, and rarely interfere with the integrity majesty of the animation. (They mainly afflict the illuminators' robes and the film's more dramatic light sources, and even then are kept to a manageable minimum.) That being said, a few instances of more obvious stair-stepping creep into Kells' third act -- during one key scene near the end of the film, Cellach's robe is beset with color bands, one of which pulsates and flickers as the aging Abbot sits on his bed -- some of which may distract even the most entranced viewers, if only for a moment. Granted, smaller displays, improperly calibrated video settings and many of the bells-n-whistles that grace modern Plasma, LCD and LED sets may cloak such arguably negligible eyesores, but that doesn't mean the bands aren't there.
Will it prevent anyone from enjoying The Secret of Kells? Should it scare anyone away from this magnificent Blu-ray release? Is it debilitating enough to detract from the sheer beauty of it all? Absolutely not. The otherwise perfect presentation is magnificent, mesmerizing and worthy of praise. I'd have to be a soulless, stone-hearted cynic to get worked up over something so easy to overlook.
Rest those weary critical heads, dear readers. New Video Group's stirring, utterly involving DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track is perfect. Bright, sparkling voices fill the front soundstage, punctuating the film's whimsy, peril and intrigue without ever subduing Moore and Twomey's bustling world or succumbing to the sonic madness of its darkest forces. Better still, LFE output is fittingly brash and brawny when invaders come ashore, nimble and earthy when Brendan and Aisling explore the forest, and both powerful and prescient whenever called upon. Likewise, rear speaker activity is both playful and aggressive, immersing the listener in every rustling canopy, terrifying cave, cramped tower and inviting abode Brendan encounters. Pans are as graceful as Aisling and directionality is as precise as Aidan's pen. All the while, ambience remains light and lively, acoustics are convincing (at least for an animated feature), separation is impressive, dynamics are remarkable and Bruno Coulais' folklore-steeped score dances a sure-footed dervish from channel to channel. I was never yanked out of Kells' enveloping soundfield, not even for a moment, and found myself drifting deeper and deeper into its cleansing, crystal clear waters. NVG's rousing lossless track is, without a doubt, the highpoint of an already extraordinary release.
After digging through The Secret of Kells' exceptional supplemental package, my love of Moore and Twomey's film blossomed. A remarkable example of substance over style, the Blu-ray edition's humble filmmakers commentary, extensive director's documentary and solid production goodies are informative and satisfying, and immediately sent me back for another helping of the film itself. My only lingering gripe? Not all of the video content is presented in high definition.
The Secret of Kells - Origins: A bonus 20-page excerpt from the Secret of Kells graphic novel is tucked inside the disc's standard Blu-ray case. It contains two short stories, both of which would have made fantastic animated shorts (had Moore and Twomey been afforded the time or budget to deliver as much for the film's home video release). The first tale reveals more details of Aisling's backstory, her age, the reason the Crom Cruach is imprisoned in her forest and other aspects of the mythos. (Not too shabby for a six-page prologue.) The second focuses on how Brendan became an orphan in the care of his uncle, Cellach. And it's just as good. Don't just crack the booklet, glimpse at the art and toss it aside. It's a remarkable insert.
Filmmakers Audio Commentary: Director Tomm Moore, co-director Nora Twomey and art director Ross Stewart -- breezy Irish lilts armed and at the ready -- deliver an engaging, thorough and candid overview of Kells's at-times turbulent ten-year production, delving into the changes made to the story and characters along the way, the efforts of the 200-plus artists and animators who worked on the film, its art styles and animation techniques, casting, voice performances and a variety of other topics. Their accents combined with their jovial anecdotes left me with little choice but to occasionally tap rewind, but it didn't bother me for a second.
Director's Presentation (HD, 27 minutes): Low-key and matter-of-fact, this refreshing documentary (narrated by Moore) serves up countless storyboards, character designs, art pieces and other production materials, giving Moore yet another opportunity to dissect his passion project.
Voices of Ireland (SD, 11 minutes): No "Meet the Voice Cast" nonsense here. Just raw behind-the-scenes footage of Brendan Gleeson, Evan McGuire, Christen Mooney and Mick Lally delivering lines during their recording sessions.
Early Concept Trailer with Optional Commentary (SD, 4 minutes): The earliest incarnation of Kells was a four-minute test trailer created in 1999, and it's presented here with optional Tomm Moore commentary.
Pencil to Picture, Part One (SD, 7 minutes): A split-screen comparison between one sequence's storyboards and its completed animation.
Pencil to Picture, Part Two (SD, 2 minutes): A shorter scene, this time intercut with early pencil animation.
Aisling at the Oscars (HD, 1 minute): Aisling thanks the Academy for the film's nomination in this cute clip.
I can't say much more about The Secret of Kells than I already have. Simple as its story may be, it's an amazing animated film, a visual masterpiece and an arresting testament to the power of art, inspiration and imagination. I have a feeling those who walk away disappointed may not grasp the full extent of its history and mythology, the allure of its deceptively effortless artistry and the impact even a modest tale, if told with the utmost sincerity and conviction, can have on anyone willing to listen. The Blu-ray edition is well worth its asking price as well. Its video transfer is excellent (intermittent banding notwithstanding), its DTS-HD Master Audio track is pitch-perfect, and its unassuming supplemental package is extensive and captivating. Animation fans and cinephiles of all stripes should take the time to unravel The Secret of Kells.
The animated feature The Secret of Kells will be released on Blu-ray on October 5, in a BD/DVD combo pack. Set in medieval Ireland, this film received praise (and a surprise Academy Award nomination for Best Animated Feature) because of its unconventional look, ...
