Four stars. Rated PG, for mild rude humor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.24.20
The holidays are weeks behind us, but — thanks to the recently announced Academy Award nominations — a little slice of Christmas warrants renewed attention.
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| Having failed in every effort to make a go of his forlornly empty local Post Office, Jesper shares his woes with tiny Margú, who listens attentively ... despite not understanding a single word. |
Klaus garnered very limited theatrical release for a heartbeat in early November, just long enough to qualify for its well-deserved Oscar nomination; availability since then has been solely via Netflix, which certainly picked the right project for its debut animated feature film. Co-directors Sergio Pablos and Carlos Martínez López have delivered a marvelous seasonal bonbon that’s equal parts charming, snarky, sentimental and — ultimately — powerfully heartwarming.
Several earlier films — many of them not very good — have contemplated the origin of Santa Claus. (1985’s Santa Claus: The Movie is a particularly notorious stinker.) The approach generally involves a good-hearted fellow who enthusiastically accepts this noble responsibility; some films also acknowledge references to the fourth-century Greek Christian bishop now known as Saint Nicholas.
Pablos — assisted by co-writers Jim Mahoney and Zach Lewis — has taken an entirely different tack.
Postmaster General Johansen (voiced with regal bearing by Sam McMurray) has devoted his life to the service; he’s therefore dismayed that his ne’er-do-well son, Jesper (Jason Schwartzman), has distinguished himself as the Postal Academy’s worst student. Angered beyond words, Dad banishes Jesper to the frozen island of Smeerensburg, miles above the Arctic Circle.
The lad is given one year to deliver at least 6,000 letters, or he’ll be stuck there forever.
This edict isn’t merely unlikely; it’s downright impossible. Smeerensburg’s two primary clans — the Krums and Ellingboes — have long been divided by a Capulet/Montague-style feud that extends back generations. Cranky current shot-callers Mrs. Krum (Joan Cusack) and Mr. Ellingboe (Will Sasso) don’t even know why they’re feuding, but … well … tradition is tradition.
And because both clans refuse to allow their children to share the same classroom, nobody in town knows how to read or write. That latter detail came as a nasty shock five years earlier to schoolteacher Alva (Rashida Jones), who pragmatically transformed her desk into a fish counter, where she butchers the latest catches and hopes to eventually save enough to head somewhere more intellectually tolerant.
The result, of course, is that nobody sends or receives mail.
Which is a major crisis. Petulantly mourning the absence of his cozy linens and piping-hot fancy coffees, stuck in a dilapidated office with only a coop of chickens for company, Jesper hasn’t the faintest idea how to interact with Smeerensburg’s residents.
He also gets into trouble, thanks to prankish suggestions from wry boat captain Mogens (Norm Macdonald), who has brought many postmen to these frozen shores, and watched all of them chased out of town. And yet, as the story proceeds, we begin to wonder if Mogens’ behavior has a deeper purpose; he serves as this story’s trickster figure, (intentionally?) facilitating key plot developments.
The most important of which is Jesper’s unexpected introduction to the monosyllabic and massively imposing Klaus (J.K. Simmons), a recluse hidden deep in the woods. His unsociable bearing notwithstanding, Klaus is a skilled woodworker and toymaker, and his cabin is laden with all manner of hand-crafted treasures.
By this point, we suspect where Pablos and López are taking us, but the journey is by no means predictable. Jesper remains a self-centered jerk for quite some time; indeed, his behavior is so boorish during the first act, that he becomes rather hard to endure. Even his occasional “benevolent” gestures result mostly from selfish motives, and that’s what makes this story so enchanting; without realizing it, Jesper’s seemingly random and spiteful behavior crafts an increasingly complex legend (with details familiar to us all).
Charles Dickens knew that Christmas is all about redemption, and this film unerringly treads that well-worn narrative path.
The story’s other key character is a little girl named Margú (Neda Magrethe Labba), who belongs to the island’s indigenous residents, and chatters nonstop in her indecipherable Sámi dialect. Where Jesper’s appearance is exaggerated angles and sharp edges — complementing his prickly personality — Márgu has the cuter, rounded design of a Russian nesting doll.
She’s completely adorable, particularly as she becomes Jesper’s shadow and tiny confidant. At his lowest, she listens and somehow seems to understand, regardless of the impenetrable language barrier.
Despite the hilariously exaggerated icy setting — Smeerensburg is conceived as a composite of landscape and architecture found in Norway, Sweden and Iceland — the film’s look and atmosphere are surprisingly warm: absolutely the result of Pablos and López having made this an entirely hand-drawn animated film. (It’s the first such studio feature since Disney’s The Princess and the Frog, back in 2009.)
Character designer Torsten Schrank had a lot of fun with these various folks. Alva shares Jesper’s sharp-edged appearance, reflecting the bitterness that has fueled her five years in Smeerensburg. The Krums and Ellingboes are defined not only by distinctive body types (ridiculously bony or corpulent), but also by color schemes one would expect from soccer fans: reds and oranges versus blues and grays.
Sight gags abound, and the dialog is deliciously snarky; the action is well-paced by Pablos, López and editor Pablo García Revert. Composer Alfonso G. Aguilar heightens the humor and drama via a score rich with individual character themes, and a memorable primary cue that repeats throughout the film (which he dubbed “A Story About Letters,” while working it out on his piano).
In a word, Klaus is a treasure: an unabashed valentine not only to Christmas and Santa Claus, but also to mail carriers. It has just enough bite to avoid becoming cloying, once we slide into an increasingly sentimental third act that emphasizes the importance of friendship, joy, love and — most of all — altruistic kindness.
Qualities in woefully short supply, these days.
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