Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang
The Academy Award nominees in the
Best Animated Film category always include one or two obscure surprises, and
this year’s roster is no exception. American viewers well acquainted with Zootopia and Moana are apt to raise their eyebrows at the inclusion of Ma Vie de Courgette, which is unlikely
to achieve wide release in the States ... and more’s the pity.
 |
| Smitten by the captivating girl who has just joined the rest of the children at the orphanage, Courgette makes a card that he hopes will express his feelings. |
Indeed, the closest venues to the
Sacramento market appear to be in Berkeley and San Francisco, where venues are
scheduled to open the film on March 3. Check the official web site for details.
Animated films, as with any other
genre, are a rich and varied international affair; the annual Oscar contenders
are a timely reminder of this fact, even if American viewers are loathe to
embrace such diversity. I still mourn the lamentable fate of 2012’s Ernest et Célestine, a French charmer
that absolutely deserved to win the year that everybody went crazy for Frozen. Even with the publicity
generated by its nomination, Ernest et
Célestine couldn’t crack our market.
I’d hate to see the same thing
happen to Ma Vie de Courgette. Aside
from celebrating the patience and artistic skill with which Swiss filmmaker
Claude Barras has created this film, via stop-motion animation, we also must
applaud the narrative — adapted by Céline Sciamma from Giles Paris’ 2002 novel,
Autobiographie d’une Courgette — as a
deeply moving saga of children who fall through society’s cracks.
Indeed, the genius of this film
lies in the very animated medium employed to tell its story. A live-action
presentation, with actual children living these roles, would have been quite
difficult to endure. By “distancing” us with colorful stop-motion puppets,
Barras makes the same telling points in a kinder, gentler — but no less
powerful — manner.
Barras even employed untrained
children to voice these characters, which adds considerable intensity to the
drama. These young performers deliver the same sweet, natural sincerity and
stumbling uncertainty that characterized the kids hired to voice Charlie Brown
and his friends, when A Charlie Brown
Christmas became the first prime-time Peanuts TV special, back in 1965.
(Using children was innovative then, when animated characters always were
voiced by adults.)
Unfortunately, the
English-language dub of Ma Vie de
Courgette — released here as My Life
as a Zucchini, a somewhat misleading translation — clearly involved veteran
voice performers, which somewhat diminishes the film’s magic. Try, if possible,
to catch the film in its original form.
The story opens on a little boy
making a kite in his attic bedroom. It’s immediately clear, without any dialog,
that he’s accustomed to entertaining himself ... and, right away, we’re uneasy.
He’s surrounded by discarded beer cans, with which he builds a tower after
setting the kite aside. The unstable structure falls apart, making a racket;
this prompts a furious response from a drunken woman below, angered at having
her television viewing interrupted.
The boy’s eyes widen with fear;
his movements become agitated and panicked. The woman clomps upstairs,
threatening a beating. Just as her head rises through the opening, the
terrified boy slams the trapdoor. The impact knocks the woman down in a noisy
tumble, after which she moves no more.
A kind and sensitive police
officer, Raymond (Michel Vuillermoz), subsequently takes the boy’s statement.
Although his given name is Icare, he prefers to be called Courgette (Zucchini),
the diminutive nickname bestowed by his mother. The boy’s father is long gone,
remembered only as a crayon figure drawn with crayon on the kite.
Young Gaspard Schlatter voices
Courgette with a heartbreaking blend of grief and somber resignation: a small
person carrying an impossible weight on his shoulders. (The performances that
Barras and casting director Marie-Eye Hildbrand draw from Schlatter and all the
other young performers are very, very
impressive.)
Nobody, least of all Raymond,
blames Courgette for his mother’s death ... but he certainly blames himself.
He’s taken to a small orphanage run by kindly Mme Papineau (Monica Budde), who
wisely gives him some space. Courgette immediately runs afoul of the pecking
order established by self-declared “alpha orphan” Simon (Paulin Jaccoud), who
mercilessly taunts the newcomer.
But that dynamic shifts when
Courgette stands up to the bully, after which — in the manner of such things —
the two become close friends. Simon confesses that his parents were drug
addicts, and then explains the back-stories belonging to all the other
residents: Beatrice (Lou Wick) lost her mother when she was “expelled” and sent
back to Africa, one day while the little girl was at school; chubby Jujube
(Eliot Sanchez) watched his mother live the mindless monotony of
obsessive-compulsive disorder; Ahmed’s (Raul Ribera) father was jailed for
armed robbery; Alice’s (Estelle Hennard) father abused her.
Simon recites these details in
the flat, detached manner of a child resigned to misery, while at the same time
displaying youthful innocence. (Sciamma’s script is impressively sensitive.)
Discussing Alice, Simon explains, “Her father, he used to do creepy things to
her, disgusting stuff. I’m not quite sure what ... he’s in jail now.”
Barras matches these woeful
details with telling character quirks. Beatrice rushes to the door every time
she hears a car, hoping that her mother has returned; Alice hides her face
behind a lock of her blond hair. Both are beyond tragic.
By this point, we’re already
overlooking the fact that these children are rendered by clay-like puppets;
they’re wholly persuasive individuals, despite the fact that Barras’ figure
composition is unusual, to say the least. All the children have huge,
Peanuts-style heads that overwhelm their small bodies. Their eyes are large and
saucer-like, their worm-like noses a bright red, as if they’re always suffering
from a cold. Courgette’s hair is bright blue; Simon’s is ferociously orange.
And although the tone is solemn,
Barras’ presentation isn’t depressing; even forlorn children experience moments
of spontaneous delight. The latter mood is enhanced by the arrival of Camille
(Sixtine Murat), a somewhat stronger, more self-assured girl whose presence is
a ray of sunshine ... despite her own horrific back-story.
Courgette immediately falls in
love. He also promises to protect Camille, and she definitely needs protection;
her only potential guardian is her loutish Aunt Ida (Brigitte Rosset), a greedy
opportunist hoping to gain custody of the little girl solely to get the
government checks.
Raymond, meanwhile, has been
visiting frequently, and taking a definite interest in Courgette. Could this
mean...?
The story’s grimmer aspects are
mitigated, at all times, by Barras’ attention to the small gestures and little
details that characterize all
children. He understands the power of holding on a moment, of allowing us to
digest a character’s stray remark. Occasional sight gags prompt unexpected
laughter, as when Camille is caught reading Kafka.
Backdrops tend to be bleak,
symbolizing the outer-world traumas from which the children have escaped. In
deliberate contrast, the unusually bright colors that characterize Courgette
and his new friends, and their equally vibrant clothing, signify their
resilience and (mostly) positive outlook. Even against such odds, they wish to
be survivors.
The film’s gentle, delicate tone
is enhanced by Sophie Hunger’s understated score: a simple musical backdrop of
quiet guitar, bass and vibraphone. Her vocal — “Le Vent Nous Portera,” heard
during the end credits — is particularly poignant.
In the press notes, Barras
explains that his film is “above all, an homage to neglected and mistreated
children who do the best they can to survive and live with their wounds.” He
has succeeded, and then some; Ma Vie de
Courgette is beautifully constructed, thoroughly engaging and deeply
moving. It should be required viewing for anybody who works with children at
risk.
It’s also endearing and
unexpectedly delightful. Bearing the latter in mind, be sure to hang around
during the aforementioned end credits; they break midway for an animated
rendering of young Schlatter’s voice audition, which is funny and quite
touching in its own right.
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