Honestly, the first time I sat down to watch Kubo and the Two Strings, I thought I knew exactly what I was getting. It's Laika. It’s stop-motion. It’s going to be beautiful and probably a bit creepy. But then Monkey shows up. She isn't just a sidekick. She’s not the "talking animal" trope we’ve been fed by big-budget animation for decades. She’s sharp. She’s weary. And if we’re being real, she’s the emotional backbone of a movie that deals with some pretty heavy themes like grief and dementia.
The Monkey from Kubo and the Two Strings starts as a wooden charm. A little snow monkey talisman that Kubo’s mother, Sariatu, tells him to keep close. It’s a protection spell. When things go south—and boy, do they go south fast when the Sisters show up—that little wooden carving transforms into a living, breathing, fur-covered powerhouse. But she’s not a pet. She’s a guardian with a voice that sounds like she’s seen too many winters and fought too many wars.
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Who Is This Monkey, Really?
Most people go into this movie thinking Monkey is just... a monkey. A magical one, sure. But there’s a massive twist that redefines every single interaction she has with Kubo. She is actually the reincarnated spirit of Kubo’s mother. When Sariatu uses the last of her magic to save Kubo from her sisters, she transfers her soul into the charm he was carrying.
That changes the vibe.
Suddenly, her strictness isn’t just "cranky mentor" energy. It’s a mother’s desperate, frantic need to protect her child from a family that literally wants to tear his eyes out. Charlize Theron voices her with this incredible rasp. It’s a voice that feels like it’s been through a blender, which makes sense given the physical and emotional trauma the character has endured. She’s strict because the stakes are lethal. If Kubo fails, he doesn't just lose a game; he loses his humanity.
The Survivalist Mentality
Monkey is obsessed with survival. She’s the one telling Kubo to stop playing his shamisen. She’s the one telling him to stay out of the light. She doesn’t care about "fun" or "adventure." She cares about the next ten minutes and making sure Kubo is still breathing by the end of them.
You see this in the way she moves. Laika’s animators, led by Travis Knight, did something special here. They didn't just give her human expressions. They kept her simian. She crouches. She barks. She uses her feet. But the eyes—they’re all Sariatu. It’s a jarring contrast that keeps you off balance. She’s a warrior trapped in a snow monkey's body, trying to navigate a world that is actively hunting her son.
The Chemistry with Beetle
Then there’s Beetle. Oh, Beetle.
The dynamic between the Monkey from Kubo and the Two Strings and Matthew McConaughey’s amnesiac samurai is where the heart of the movie really beats. On the surface, it’s a bickering comedy duo. Monkey is the "straight man" (well, straight monkey), and Beetle is the lovable goofball who can't remember which end of a sword to hold.
But look closer.
They are essentially a family unit that doesn’t realize they’re a family yet. Beetle is actually Hanzo, Kubo’s father. Neither of them remembers their past lives fully—Monkey has the memories but is fading, and Beetle has the skills but no context. They’re basically a divorced couple trying to co-parent a kid while being chased by supernatural assassins. It’s tragic. It’s hilarious. It’s deeply human.
The way she treats Beetle—with a mix of utter contempt and burgeoning respect—is a masterclass in character writing. She’s annoyed by him because he’s everything she isn't: optimistic, loud, and disorganized. Yet, she needs him. She recognizes his strength even when he doesn't.
Why the Design Works
Let's talk about the fur. If you've ever seen the "behind the scenes" footage of Kubo, you know that Monkey’s fur was a nightmare to animate. Thousands of tiny hairs that had to be moved by hand for every single frame. It gives her a tactile, grounded feeling. She feels "real" in a way that CGI characters rarely do. When she gets wet, she looks miserable. When she’s in the snow, she looks like she’s freezing.
This physical realism matters because the movie is about the "strings" of memory and family. If Monkey looked like a plastic toy, her eventual fate—and the revelation of her identity—wouldn't land. You have to believe she can bleed. You have to believe she can die. And she does.
The Tragedy of the Moon King’s Family
We have to talk about the Moon King. Monkey isn't just a random spirit; she’s the Moon King’s daughter. She turned her back on "perfection" and "immortality" because she fell in love with a human. That is the ultimate rebellion.
When you see Monkey fighting her sisters—the masked, terrifying spirits—it’s not just a fight. It’s a domestic dispute taken to a cosmic level. Her sisters hate her because she chose to be "messy." She chose to have feelings. She chose to have a son who would eventually grow old and die.
Monkey represents the beauty of the temporary. She is a reminder that things are valuable precisely because they don't last forever. Her life as a monkey is a short, violent, and beautiful coda to her life as a celestial being. She’s okay with that. She’d rather spend a few days as a monkey protecting Kubo than an eternity in the cold, unfeeling heavens.
Misconceptions About Her Role
A lot of people think Monkey is just a "magic item" that came to life. That’s a simplified version of the lore. In the Shinto-inspired world of Kubo, objects can have spirits, but Monkey is specifically a vessel for Sariatu’s soul. She isn't the charm becoming a person; she’s a person using the charm to stay in the world of the living.
Another big one: People think she’s mean. She isn't mean. She’s terrified. Think about it. She’s seen her husband "die," her sisters try to murder her, and her father try to blind her son. If she seems a little snappy, maybe give her a break? She’s doing the work of an entire army with nothing but a pair of paws and a sharp tongue.
The Legacy of the Character
Kubo and the Two Strings didn't set the box office on fire, which is honestly a tragedy. But the characters, especially Monkey, have lived on in the hearts of animation nerds. She’s a blueprint for how to do a mentor character right. She has an arc. She changes. She learns to trust again.
When she eventually falls in battle against her sisters, it’s one of the most heartbreaking moments in modern cinema. Not because a monkey died, but because a mother finally ran out of time. The silence in that scene is louder than any explosion in a superhero movie.
How to Appreciate Monkey’s Design
- Watch the "The Kingdom of the Sun" sequence again. Look at how her movements mirror the mother’s movements in the opening scene. The posture is identical.
- Listen to the way she says Kubo’s name. It changes from a command to a prayer over the course of the film.
- Pay attention to her interactions with the origami Hanzo. She treats that little piece of paper with more tenderness than she treats herself.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Creators
If you’re a storyteller or just a fan of deep character work, there’s a lot to learn from the Monkey from Kubo and the Two Strings. She proves that you don't need a character to be "likable" in the traditional sense for them to be beloved. You just need them to be honest.
- For Writers: Use Monkey as a study in "High Stakes, Low Patience." Her personality is a direct result of her environment. If your character is in danger, they shouldn't be cracking jokes every five seconds unless it’s a coping mechanism.
- For Animators: Look at the weight. Monkey feels heavy. She hits the ground with a thud. Physicality informs character. Her weariness is visible in her shoulders.
- For Viewers: Re-watch the movie with the knowledge of who she is from the very first frame. It makes her initial coldness feel like the ultimate act of love. She is trying to distance herself so it won't hurt as much when she inevitably has to leave him.
The next time you watch Kubo, don't just see a talking monkey. See a woman who gave up her eyes, her home, and her very form just to give her son a chance to tell his own story. That’s the real magic.
Next Steps for Deepening Your Knowledge
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To truly grasp the cultural weight of Monkey’s character, explore the history of the Japanese Macaque (Snow Monkey) in folklore. They are often seen as mediators between the human and spirit worlds, which perfectly mirrors Monkey’s role as the bridge between Kubo’s earthly journey and his celestial heritage. Researching the traditional Japanese concept of Tsukumogami—the belief that tools or objects can acquire a spirit after 100 years—will also give you a deeper appreciation for why Sariatu chose the wooden charm as her vessel. Finally, look into the production notes from Laika Studios regarding the "Sisters" fight sequences to see how they choreographed Monkey's unique combat style to blend animal instinct with human martial arts expertise.