I watched Puss in Boots: The Last Wish last February. Immediately afterwards, my YouTube history was filled with various YouTubers discussing how great this movie’s story, art style, structure, themes, cinematography, and literally every other aspect of the movie truly is. However, now that it’s on Netflix, I rewatched it, and there’s one thing I’d like to discuss specifically. Death. And I don’t mean it metaphorically, or rhetorically, or poetically, or theoretically, or any other fancy way. Yadda yadda you know the line. Spoilers ahead. If you haven’t seen the movie, go watch it. Again, Netflix. Go on. You won’t regret it.
El lobo is sooo good, you guys. Every time the camera rested on his hooded figure, or I heard his bone-chilling whistle, I sat up in my seat. It was a very good movie in and of itself, but nothing captivated me the way he did. The wolf is legitimately scary. He has little screen time compared to many of the other main characters and minor villains, and yet his presence is felt throughout the film. He is an imposing figure, and he is terrifying. He appears out of nowhere, he fights with unmatched ferocity and speed, he threatens and taunts. He reminds Puss (and indeed the audience) of his (our) mortality.
Personally, I don’t like when Death is an antagonist. However, Puss in Boots 2 made me rethink that. It delivered a villain Death that is interesting and not cruel. Death is an antagonist not in the Castlevania “I just want everyone to die” sense (also on Netflix, I recommend at least the first two seasons), but rather in the sense of a believably antagonistic force. He has every reason to hate Puss, who throws his lives away and cares not for seizing the day. When Death is defeated, it is only because Puss has outgrown the flaws he hates, not because Puss could ever actually defeat Death in combat, or outsmart him.
His entire character is completely logical. He displays human emotion — frustration, when he realizes Puss has beat him (“¿Por qué diablos fui a jugar con mi comida?”), and thrill in unnerving his target. He is not arrogant and above humanity, he doesn’t see himself as a god. Unlike most personified forces of nature (especially Death), he is actually personified in the way he acts. He has principles, he has emotions, and he acts according to them.
Why would the writers make this choice with Death? Why humanize this anthropomorphic wolf Death? An incomprehensible monster is certainly easier to fear. In The Magnus Archives, Death, or The End, is represented by pulsing red tentacles which wrap around those about to die, heralding their death, which cannot be averted no matter what actions human beings take.[1] Yet the benefit of a Death that is not eldritch and unknowable, but rather human and expressive, is clear in the plot of The Last Wish.
Puss, who has died for the eighth time and developed an unhealthy fear of death in place of his unhealthy fearlessness, searches for the Wishing Star, a magical relic which can grant any wish. Puss desires to find this star and use the wish to be restored to his nine lives, so that he may return to his life as an outlaw, adventurer, and fearless hero. Over the course of the film, however, his brushes with Death teach him to appreciate his life and accept his mortality, which leads Death to back off, leaving Puss with his final life intact.
And what better way to teach an appreciation for life than with an understanding of Death? If Death is unknowable, it is something to live in constant fear of, but the movie condemns that as surely as it condemns brazen fearlessness. The balance is to understand death, to know that it will come for you, to not want that, of course, but to not run from your life, and above all to live your life to the fullest. It is a memento mori for the sake of carpe diem. Remember that you must die so that you may seize the day, and enjoy life while you can. But the first step to understanding death is to understand the personification used as a stand-in for the concept. That is why Death is personified, anyway, isn’t it?
Well, Dr. D. Antonio Cantù, Dean of Health, Education, and Human Services at the University of Arkansas at Fort Smith[2], cites the Black Death as the source for such a personification, in his TEDx UofISpringfield independently organized event TED Talk. As he tells it, the image of Death was an obsession developed during one of the deadliest periods in history to search for meaning when the surrounding deaths left humanity lost. Cantù suggests that the image of Death was used to understand it – to give death meaning and, in turn, give life meaning. The two, Cantù argues, are intrinsically linked.[3]
A Death like the one presented in Puss in Boots 2 helps us come to terms with our mortality. Even a humanized, understood Death is scary, and el lobo is scary indeed. Even if the audience is unfazed, Puss is terrified. He sees the wolf once, in the dark forest on the path to the wishing star, and he panics. He flees, hyperventilating, overcome with fear, and it only takes the efforts of a therapy dog to calm him down. His terror is understandable. Yet it is only through our fear that we can accept death. We must know our fear to cope with it.
As much as I enjoy Death in Puss in Boots, my preference for a non-villainous Death remains dominant. The most memorable personifications of Death, for me, are those who are kind, gentle, and loving. As Frances Molina stated, “If someone offered to walk you home in the dark, wouldn’t you accept? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a hand to hold?”[4] There is something empowering in seeing Death as a hand to hold as you walk into the unknown. There is something empowering in looking at your end, not with fear or apprehension, but with love and warmth. So that, when your time finally comes, you are not afraid to walk home in the dark.
In the Sandman comics, by Neil Gaiman, Death of the Endless is such a personification. She is kind and cheerful. In “The Sound of Her Wings,”[5] she is introduced with a Mary Poppins reference. She explains the plot of the movie to her brother, Dream of the Endless, calling it “cute.” She worries for her brother, and takes him to work with her, and we see how she performs the duties of Death. Dream notes, “No heads turn to mark [their] passing”. He hears one man say, it “[felt] like someone walking over [his] grave.”
They come across an old man. He is playing an old song on the violin. Death strikes a conversation, and asks if he knows who she is. He does. “She draws him close. From the darkness [Dream] hear[s] the beating of mighty wings.” The man’s soul has moved on, to where, the reader does not know. She visits a dying comedian. She says she’s funny, and expresses her condolences. She visits a baby. Holds it gently. She is sorry. She takes care in how she handles it. She is Death, but she is not cruel. She is kind. Tender. What we all hope death to be.
Dream remarks on his sister’s nature. “It is as natural to die as it is to be born. But they fear her. Dread her. Feebly they attempt to placate her. They do not love her. Many thousands of years ago I heard a song in a dream, a mortal song that celebrated her gift. I still remember it. ‘Death is before me today: Like the recovery of a sick man, Like going forth into a garden after sickness. Death is before me today: Like the odor of myrrh, Like sitting under a sail in a good wind. Death is before me today: Like the course of a stream; Like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house. Death is before me today: Like the home that a man longs to see, After years spent as a captive.’[6] That forgotten poet understood her gifts. […] I walk by her side, and the darkness lifts from my soul. I walk with her, and I hear the gentle beating of mighty wings.”
This internal monologue narrates various scenes of death. Overdose, murder, suicide, disease. Each panel shows a dead body. This is Death of the Endless in the DC universe. Gaiman’s Death is a reflection of death as kind and gentle, yes, but also harsh and unmoving. She will guide you gently into the darkness, but she cannot save or help you. Making Death a commentary on death, as Gaiman did, is central to creating an interesting character out of it. And peering through the veil of their opposite characterizations, we see the true similarities in Death of the Endless and El Lobo. One is to be loved, the other is to be feared, but in both we see a fundamental understanding of and respect for mortality.
Both are attempts to understand death and overcome fear of it. Both are attempts to show us that life and death are brilliant and beautiful and you cannot enjoy life without accepting that it must end. Of course, it’s much trickier to accept this truth when Death seems to be actively trying to kill you, but it is that human element of the wolf, the personality of the personification, that allows this to occur. And in doing so, Puss in Boots reflects an obsession with death dating back to the Black Plague, and teaches us to live our life. Memento mori, ergo memento vivere.
Footnotes
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MAG011 - Dreamer • The Magnus Archives Transcripts Archive Archive A (Extremely Unofficial) (introduced), MAG121 - Far Away • The Magnus Archives Transcripts Archive Archive A (Extremely Unofficial) (confirmed)
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Why are We Obsessed with the Image of Death? | Dean Cantu | TEDxUofISpringfield - YouTube
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https://pankmagazine.com/piece/odeath/ (WARNING: MATURE CONTENT WITHIN)
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Gaiman, Neil, The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes (1991)
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Lichtheim, Miriam, Ancient Egyptian Literature, Volume I: The Old and Middle Kingdoms