Five stars. Rating: Suitable for all ages, despite the ludicrous PG rating for "scary moments"
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.28.14
“Adorable” can’t convey my depth
of feeling for this enchanting little film.
Indeed, mere words seem wholly
insufficient.
Despite being one of the 2013
Academy Awards nominees for best animated feature, Ernest & Celestine remains virtually unknown to American viewers, aside from the lucky few who may
have caught it at a film festival. Frankly, this film’s obscurity is tragic ...
and typical of an emerging pattern in this Oscar category.
For the past several years, since
the rising popularity of animated films has prompted a corresponding abundance
of nominees, some of them have raised puzzled eyebrows. While the animation
branch’s nominating members are to be congratulated for citing entries from
outside the United States, that generosity of spirit hasn’t been embraced by
American movie distributors ... nor by mainstream American viewers who, already
reluctant to subject themselves to live-action foreign films, apparently are
even less willing to watch animated foreign films.
Thus, a frustrating pattern has
emerged, particularly for dedicated Oscar fans wanting to catch as many
nominees as possible, prior to the annual awards ceremony. That has become
quite difficult — even impossible — with the animated features, since some of
them don’t get released here in the States until weeks after the Oscars.
Back in 2009, the
French/Belgian/Irish The Secret of Kells didn’t garner American distribution
until mid-March ... and then availability was spotty, at best. In 2011, the
same was true of Chico & Rita (Spain and the UK) and A Cat in Paris (France, Switzerland, Belgium and the Netherlands).
Never heard of any of them? I’m
not surprised. Saturation-booked, high-profile domestic entries from Pixar,
Disney and DreamWorks steal all the media focus.
But being louder and more
ubiquitous doesn’t make them better than their overlooked and under-appreciated
peers.
This year, that same fate has
befallen superstar Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises and the
French/Belgian co-production of Ernest & Celestine. Miyazaki’s film, at
least, is being released in our market today; Oscar stalwarts have roughly 48
hours to catch it before Sunday’s awards broadcast.
But I’ve no idea when, or even
if, Ernest & Celestine will hit any theaters, let alone those in the
Sacramento valley ... and I’m not holding my breath. Home video release won’t
come until June, at which point the film will have been, ah, “enhanced” with
English dubbing by a cast of American voice actors.
That’s a shame, because the
original voice talent is an important element in this wholly delightful charmer
from directors Benjamin Renner, Vincent Patar and Stéphane Aubier.
A key element, to be sure, but by
no means the sole essential ingredient. Most notably, this film has the lush,
hand-drawn watercolor magnificence of early Disney animated films (Pinocchio comes to mind) and, indeed, those by Miyazaki. That’s important, because Renner
and his co-directors worked hard to duplicate the delightful illustrations
found within author/artist Gabrielle Vincent’s beloved children’s series.
Vincent wrote and illustrated a
couple dozen Ernest & Celestine books, starting in 1982; the final two
entries were published posthumously, after her death in 2000. On the one hand,
I’m surprised it took so long for her characters to find their way to the big
screen; alternatively, I fully understand the apprehension that would have
afflicted potential filmmakers who didn’t want to risk ruining a national
treasure.
Indeed, I suspect Vincent’s books
are regarded with the same affection that British and American readers have for
A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh series, which is equally well served by E.H.
Shepard’s captivating line drawings.
Happily, Renner and his
colleagues have done a masterful job. Their adaptation of Ernest &
Celestine isn’t merely sumptuous visually, with an enchanting watercolor
quality that evokes a sense of warmth generally absent in crisply “perfect” CGI
features; screenwriter Daniel Pennac also has done a masterful job of capturing
Vincent’s imaginative whimsy and gentle moralizing.
Celestine (voiced by Pauline
Brunner) is a precocious little mouse who lives at an orphanage in a massive
and imaginatively conceived underground “mouse world.” Celestine and her fellow
orphans are carefully watched by La Grise (Anne-Marie Loop), an elderly mouse
who terrifies her young charges each evening, with tales of the “big, bad
bears” that exist solely to make midnight snacks of unwary mice.
The bears live above ground, in
an equally civilized world very much like our own, complete with shops,
watchful police and cozy homes. And buskers, one of whom is the somewhat
indolent Ernest (Lambert Wilson), a reclusive bear who tries to earn a living
by performing in the town square as a one-man band ... a “profession” at which
he is, at best, only marginally successful.
Bears, in turn, are terrified of
mice, in the same way that generations of human beings have been depicted
standing on chairs and shrieking, at the mere sight of a tiny rodent.
But it’s more complicated than
the parallel sets of “urban legends” that have fueled this mutual aversion for
untold generations. Mice also are the “unseen fairies” who visit in the dark of
night, whisking away bear cub baby teeth in exchange for coins under the
pillow; these same small teeth are perfect substitutes for the worn-out
incisors that adult mice frequently must replace. Mice, after all, are helpless
without a good set of gnawing choppers.
Celestine is one of a small group
of “dental interns” who sneak topside each evening, sent to collect these
teeth. But she’s the least successful of her peers; she’s much more inclined to
draw, and has a distressing tendency to create pictures of mice and bears being friends.
Such illustrations naturally
horrify La Grise and all other adult mice, who regard Celestine as a foolish free
spirit likely to meet an early demise in the jaws of the much-feared bears.
As it happens, things very nearly
do go that way, when Celestine first encounters Ernest. But fate and an
irritated ursine shopkeeper land Ernest in a heap of trouble, from which he’s
rescued by Celestine. Their subsequent rapport, initially as cold as the winter
snow, soon thaws with the arrival of spring; it’s the heart of this engaging
little story.
Along with the broader crisis
that follows, which builds to a quiet lesson in the art of getting along.
The character animation is
delightful, with our two protagonists opposites not merely in size, but also in
temperament. The candy-loving Ernest is impulsive, clumsy and not terribly
wise; there’s more than a trace of Buster Keaton in this bear’s hapless, drolly
choreographed antics and Wilson’s blustering vocal delivery.
The sweet-voiced Celestine, in
contrast, moves with the delicate grace of a ballet dancer; she’s also
practical in a way that Ernest never could be. Brunner’s lyrical cadence
augments the softer animation style with which Celestine is drawn, her winsome
form so cuddly that we can’t help wanting to scoop her up and take her home.
Mostly, though, the observant
Celestine is audacious and candid in the manner of children who’ve grown just
old enough to recognize that adults have a tendency to complicate their lives
in ways that make absolutely no sense. And this is the story’s key moral: Rules
— particularly those that exist only because, well, that’s the way things have
been done for years — often serve no useful purpose.
And they get in the way of
potential friendships.
Loop is properly stern as the
intimidating orphanage warden, and Dominique Maurin is appropriately
condescending as the officious Chef de Clinique: the veteran dental supervisor
who demands much from Celestine and her teeth-collecting peers.
The delightful score comes from
cellist Vincent Courtois, a veteran musician equally at home with both jazz and
classical; his various themes are subtly endearing or more grandly hilarious,
depending on the demands of a given scene.
In all respects, Renner’s film
has the nostalgic, old-world sensibility that softly emanates from the
illustrations in Vincent’s books. These divergent communities — bear and mice —
display the slightly worn comfort that one experiences with carefully cherished
bureaus beloved for the memories evoked by each chip and scratch, or a favorite
chair whose cushions now conform, over time, with the user’s body.
Ernest & Celestine is,
quite simply, a remarkable cinematic experience.
Catching up with it, particularly
in its original French, is likely to be a challenge ... but one well worth the
effort.
1 comment:
Didn't realize Miyazaki had a new film out -- and now playing in Davis!
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