Éiru

Bluesky

Éiru is a child of the fire tribe, the greatest of the tribes and the fiercest, triumphing again and again against the tribe of stone and the tribe of wood – or at least that’s how she sees it, as a child whose head is full of stories, who watches the warriors as they march off to battle. They are big and brave and strong, everything she wants to be. She tries to make up for her small size with extra fierceness, but the warriors laugh and tell her to stay at home. Then, one day, the water dries up in the village well, a potential catastrophe, and the only person who can get down inside it to find out what has gone wrong is somebody strong and brave and small.

A handsomely presented Irish fable whose visual structure is bound together by traditional Celtic designs, Éiru is Oscar longlisted and seems well equipped to charm awards voters. Its narrative is aimed at young children, its messages simple, but older viewers will appreciate the way it makes use of traditional storytelling structures. The number three is everywhere in it, reflecting the trefoil in Celtic art, with shades of red, purplish grey and green representing each clan. The clear, glowing blue of water, when it appears, looks like something from another world, something divine, with the power to bind everyone together.

Traditional music played on real instruments adds to the film’s character, and although it’s digitally animated, backdrops made with charcoal and watercolours lend it an organic quality. Director Giovanna Ferrari has made use of two different pieces of animation software in order to produce a deliberate contrast in styles between her skinny, energetic heroine and the warriors, who have more in common with the background features of their world. Tumbling around, cushioned by her giant cloud of red hair, Éiru has an inherent vitality that speaks to her role in defining the future, as the rigidity of her elders connects them to the past.

There’s nothing particularly original about this story, but it belongs to a tradition in which that’s not important; what matters is the skill exhibited in the telling, and there Éiru acquits itself well.

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