Wolfwalkers (2020)

Wolfwalkers (2020), directed by Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart, is a visually stunning animated feature that stands out not only for its art style but also for its deep roots in Irish mythology. Set in 17th-century Kilkenny during a time of English occupation and forest clearing, the film weaves folklore and historical tensions into a poignant story that feels both timeless and urgently relevant. At the heart of the movie is the myth of the wolfwalkers—beings who exist as humans by day and wolves by night, their souls traversing the forest while their bodies rest. This concept is a reimagining of shapeshifting myths common in Celtic traditions, where humans and animals often share spiritual connections and boundaries between the natural and supernatural are fluid.

The film’s mythological core is embodied in the character of Mebh, a young wolfwalker whose bond with the forest is not just physical but spiritual. Her existence challenges the rigid, hierarchical worldview of the Puritanical Lord Protector, whose mission to tame and control the land mirrors the broader colonial suppression of indigenous beliefs and traditions. The wolfwalkers are not simply magical beings; they represent a pre-Christian, animistic worldview in which nature is alive, sacred, and inherently connected to human life. Their magic is tied to the land and its creatures, evoking themes from Irish lore about druids, forest spirits, and the ancient Tuatha Dé Danann—supernatural beings often linked with the old ways before Christianization.

Through its narrative and symbolism, Wolfwalkers speaks to the clash between nature-based spirituality and authoritarian religiosity. The wolves, demonized by the townspeople, are shown to be protectors of balance rather than threats—echoing how mythologies often cast misunderstood creatures in roles of wisdom and guardianship. The forest itself becomes a mythic space, teeming with a spirit that defies human dominion. The visuals reflect this duality: sharp, angular lines dominate the cityscapes, while the forest flows with curving, vibrant life, emphasizing the divide between mechanical control and organic freedom.

The concept of a sleeping body and a roaming spirit is not unique to Wolfwalkers, but its presentation here is deeply evocative of Celtic beliefs in dream journeys, astral projection, and the Otherworld. The animistic view of the forest as conscious and the wolves as kin mirrors myths in which heroes transform into animals to access deeper truths or undergo rites of passage. Robyn’s transformation into a wolfwalker is not just physical—it is a spiritual awakening, a crossing over into a world that exists beyond the rational and the seen, one that honors intuition, empathy, and connection over fear and control.

Ultimately, Wolfwalkers is a film that doesn’t merely borrow from mythology for aesthetic purposes—it channels its worldview and ethos, bringing ancient Irish folklore to life in a way that feels authentic and resonant. It offers a modern myth that respects the old ones, presenting a powerful allegory about colonialism, ecological destruction, and the enduring power of stories that remind us we are not separate from nature, but an inseparable part of it.