'Turning Red' and 'Brave' show two very different — but still accurate — depictions of mother-daughter relationships.
As Mother’s Day approaches, many people are looking back at their relationships with the women in their lives — those who raised them, guided them, or had profound impacts on them — and how such relationships have evolved over time.
Perhaps the most complicated relationships tend to those between child and parent, where expectations and understanding can sometimes compete for center stage. The relationship between mothers and daughters can be especially fraught with feelings of worth and responsibility, where daughters may struggle to fill the footprints that their mothers leave behind, and mothers attempt to prepare their daughters for the future.
It’s difficult to portray such relationships without sacrificing nuance, even more so when it comes to children’s media, which is why films such as Pixar’s Turning Red and Brave are so remarkable. These movies illustrate relationships that, while certainly different, dig into the core issues that so many mothers and daughters struggle with.
Puberty is difficult for everybody and few films portray the struggle as well as Turning Red. Meilin’s (Rosalie Chiang) changing body, sudden crushes, and her desire to be more independent of her parents, particularly her mother, are relatable to just about everyone. It’s Mei’s relationship with her mother, Ming (Sandra Oh), however, that takes center stage. It’s the changes this relationship goes through that hit home for so many people.
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It’s clear from the beginning of the film that Mei and Ming share a close bond; Mei spends most of her free time with her mother, helping her run their family temple and watching soap operas together. While Ming’s over-protectiveness is apparent from the beginning, Mei doesn’t mind, believing it's her duty to live up to her mother’s expectations and make Ming proud.
What Turning Red does so well when it comes to portraying this early stage of Ming and Mei’s relationship is that it doesn’t immediately portray a mother and daughter at war. The two clearly love each other and understand that everything Ming does for Mei, even when she goes overboard and embarrasses her, is with Mei’s wellbeing in mind. Perhaps one of the best examples of this is when Mei first transforms into a red panda. While Mei hides in the bathroom, behind the shower curtain, Ming bursts in with a box of supplies, believing her daughter to have gotten her first period. Despite being wrong in her assumption, her level of preparedness on Mei’s behalf is both comical and surprisingly sweet. It perfectly illustrates Ming’s need to be in control of the situation, while also being a wonderful illustration of just how much Ming cares for Mei.
Of course, as Mei continues to explore the changes that she’s going through, she begins to explore her own interests as well, not just those of her mother. This, in turn, puts a strain on the bond between her and Ming. Ming’s refusal to allow Mei to go to her favorite band’s concert, only fuels this space growing between them.
What truly makes the depiction of this mother-daughter relationship so impactful, however, is the exploration of generational trauma and how it affects each family member down the line, specifically mother to daughter. When Ming’s mother, Wu (Wai Ching Ho), arrives to aid in the removal of Mei’s red panda spirit, the origin of Ming’s own behavior becomes more clear. Wu is a severe woman who immediately begins judging not only Mei’s ability to maintain her emotions, but also Ming’s ability to teach her daughter how to do so. While it’s obvious that Wu makes Ming uncomfortable, Ming also clearly wants to impress her mother and live up to expectations set before her. Ming’s actions toward Wu mirror Mei’s actions towards Ming. However, Turning Red also makes it clear that the situation is not so clear cut as ‘the same behavior is passed down again and again.’ Wu comes off as far more strict and unforgiving than Ming, who, as stated before, doesn’t hesitate to shower Mei with affection. Ming has clearly tried to break away from the way her mother raised her, forming a closer bond with her daughter than she is portrayed to have with Wu, but that doesn’t mean that her relationship with her own mother doesn’t have a negative impact on Ming’s relationship with Mei.
It’s revealed at one point that Ming once hurt Wu while in her panda form. The revelation that Ming still feels regret, as well as a sense of unworthiness of others, is one that acts to clear away the storm clouds that seem to have gathered over her and Mei. Ming’s confession proves to Mei that her mother is not the infallible woman she portrays herself to be. It is only when Ming is able to reconcile with her own mother and Wu admits that Ming does not need to apologize (‘I’m your mother,’ she explains), that Ming is able to reconcile with Mei as well. She accepts that Mei is changing, admitting her own fears of growing apart from her daughter, and finally vocalizes her part in Mei’s insecurities. This recognition, and the following apology, is such an important part of Mei and Ming’s healing. By the end of the film, there is an acceptance and understanding between the two of them that was not there at the beginning of the film. While Mei admits that she sometimes misses the way things were, her acknowledgement that her relationship with her mother can grow and change without breaking is one that reflects the real world relationships between so many mothers and daughters.
Whereas Turning Red’s Mei was just starting her journey into adulthood, Merida (Kelly Macdonald) is 16 years old and is no stranger to defying her mother, Queen Elinor’s (Emma Thompson) expectations. Merida is introduced as independent and adventurous. Whereas her mother is elegant and poised, Merida is boisterous and unapologetic, preferring to ride her horse and practice archery than act in any way that would be considered "princess-like."
In Brave, societal pressure manifests in Merida’s mother, who is constantly correcting Merida’s way of speaking, sitting, eating, and general way of living. What little affection is shown between the two in the earlier half of the film is often relegated to simple praise given by Elinor when Merida conforms to her mother’s wishes, rather than explicit acts of care or love. This isn’t to say that Elinor does not love Merida; in her moments away from her daughter, it becomes clear that Elinor is trying to prepare Merida for marriage and her life as a queen, doing so out of care for her daughter’s future. She laments to her husband, King Fergus (Billy Connolly), that, while she understands how difficult it is to accept the role that society has laid down, if Merida were to only listen to her, she might understand it isn’t that bad. Merida, meanwhile, is constantly troubled by her mother’s inability to understand that she doesn’t fit into the role that society has for her, nor does she want to. For all that the two have to say for each other, a lack of communication on both parts leads to an even larger rift between them.
From the start of the film, Merida and her mother represent two views on womanhood that, while not necessarily opposing, leave them at odds with each other. Neither character is shown as wrong in her preferred self-expression; in fact, while Merida is certainly the protagonist of the film, the queen’s poise and elegance affords her a sort of power and command that Merida has yet to acquire, allowing her to take control of otherwise chaotic situations. As the film goes on, it becomes clear that rather than one over the other, a balance needs to be created between their two viewpoints.
Even in the modern world, where the societal norms of 10th Century Scotland are a thing of the past, it isn’t uncommon for mothers and daughters to differ when it comes to how they want to be perceived. From fashion to language to occupation, the pressure to present oneself in a way that is deemed appropriate is one that many people can relate to, especially when the pressure comes from one’s own parents. In Brave, Merida struggles to reconcile with the fact that the person she wants to be is not the person that her mother and the rest of the world expect. Elinor’s refusal to accept who Merida only serves to further drive a wedge between the fragile peace that the two maintain, a peace that is eventually shattered when Merida is forced to pick a suitor to marry.
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Because Elinor is so comfortable in her role as a proper queen, she is unable to understand Merida’s reluctance to marry. She has little issue with the way society expects her to act, and so she believes that Merida should feel the same. As such, she doesn’t understand Merida’s opposition towards betrothal, viewing it as immature rather than a valid response to unwanted change. Merida, on the other hand, isn’t able to fully communicate why she hates the idea of betrothal so much, instead resorting to angry complaints and a sore acceptance of her mother’s plans, all while concocting a plan of her own to avoid choosing a suitor.
It’s this plan, however, that finally sets into motion the breakdown of Elinor and Merida’s relationship. By "shooting for her own hand," Merida rebels against both her mother and society. While the scene is satisfying, Merida’s act of defiance does nothing to help her mother understand the way she feels. Instead, it snaps the last string holding the two together, leading to an argument where Merida claims she never wants to be like Elinor and slashes the tapestry of their family down the middle, essentially cutting her and Elinor apart. Elinor’s destruction of Merida’s prized bow is the nail on the coffin.
Yet, Brave still refuses to paint Elinor as a villain. In the moments after Merida storms from the room, Elinor attempts to save the bow and the regret she feels over her actions is palpable. She wants to have the relationship that she and her daughter had in the past, when Merida looked up to Elinor. However, her own views cloud her ability to communicate properly with Merida, leaving the two at odds. Elinor is not a villain, but a mother struggling to understand her daughter and desperately trying to connect in the only way she knows how.
Merida, meanwhile, can’t understand her mother’s viewpoint and refuses to meet her on even ground. Her decision to ‘change’ her mother is fueled by anger and hurt. Her struggle for her mother’s acceptance and understanding is a very real experience that transcends time and media. A desire to rebel, while simultaneously hoping for some miracle cure that will make everything better, is something almost every teenager can understand.
Merida accidentally turning Elinor into a bear doesn’t help their situation. Instead, it’s the journey that Merida and her mother take that leads to the two of them finally reconciling. Brave encourages the idea of compromise and communication; as Merida and Elinor travel, Merida learns from her mother the power that comes with poise and Elinor is afforded a look into Merida’s private life, allowing her a deeper understanding of Merida and giving her the opportunity to finally bond with her daughter.
Like Turning Red, Brave ends with Merida and Elinor coming to an understanding. Unlike in the beginning of the film, the two can spend time with each other, and there’s a level of respect that is apparent between the two that clearly wasn’t there before. Elinor is more open to showing affection and Merida is willing to meet her mother halfway. In Turning Red, a mother-daughter relationship grows and evolves with age, while Brave illustrates how even a tattered relationship can be stitched back together through love and learning.
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