#BRAVE DISNEY ARCHERY SCENE HOW TO#

She learns how to be angry, and eventually who falls in love not with her fairytale prince but a divorcee with a daughter. But over the course of the film, she becomes a strong, independent women. It's here, stranded in the present day, that we see just how woefully the culture of Andalasia has prepared Giselle for the real world. Through some textbook scheming, the Evil Witch banishes Giselle to the live-action city of New York. It's also the home of Enchanted's princess, Giselle (Amy Adams). This is the cloying world of Disney circa 1930 – the world into which Snow White and Cinderella were born.

Julie Andrews even narrates the whole thing. If you've not seen it, the opening is set in the animated fairytale world of Andalasia – it's a merciless parody of those early Disney classics, where animals talk, evil queens scheme, heroines learn how to bake and sew while they patiently wait for their handsome prince to arrive. Enchanted brilliantly exposes just how antiquated a role model the classic Disney princess is for a young girl. There are three movies central to this recent period of immensely entertaining self-critique – Enchanted, Tangled, and Brave. And Disney, to the immense credit of its animators, writers, and directors, isn’t doing this by disavowing the past – pretending Snow White never sang the words 'I'm wishing for the one I love/To find me today' – but by engaging with, satirising, and rewriting the politics of its early films. While the former continue to squeeze each female protagonist into a shimmering gown, the latter are doing their very best to reconcile the studio with its past. What I find much more interesting, however, is the conflict that seemingly exists within Disney itself – between the marketeers and animators. This isn’t a righteous screed on how the Disney Princesses are terrible role models for young girls – quite enough has been written on that subject down the years – and I’m not sure I could contribute something more substantial than an echo. The Merida I know wouldn't be so pleased to find herself back in a corset, squeezed into a gown of silk for show. That’s why Princess Merida's newfound smile bothers me so much. The symbolism is pretty obvious – she can’t be contained by the trappings of femininity and all that is expected of her. “Curse this dress,” she exclaims, before ripping it at the seams. But as she raises her bow to take the first shot, she can’t move – the fancy dress is too tight, too restrictive. “I’ll be shooting for my own hand,” says Merida, defiantly. But she's more worried about the idea that she can be won, and so sets about upstaging the contestants by flaunting her prodigious archery skills. She's patently uncomfortable – wrapped in reams of fabric, the gown threatens to suffocate her. Merida’s mother even forces her daughter into a formal gown for the occasion. Sons from neighbouring clans eagerly arrive to display their prowess in a variety of disciplines. Early on in the film there’s a crucial scene in which Merida’s father hosts a competition to win his daughter’s hand in marriage. That smile should be extremely troublesome to anyone who’s seen Brave.

What I find most niggling about this transformation is the strange authenticity of Merida’s smile. Yes, the neckline has dipped ever so slightly and she’s definitely wearing eyeliner – but it’s not that scandalous and 16-year old girls wear make-up. Some critics have gone too far in suggesting this new Merida has been intentionally sexualised.

Brave disney archery scene