"Noelle" is a movie that is both wonderfully subtle and profound in the message it delivers. It is a Christmas movie, not because of the beautifully filmed winter landscape or the softly illuminated lighting, but because its' characters experience the true essence of Christmas: forgiveness.
The character development is slow and methodical, almost predictable at first. However, as the story progresses, the reserved tension between the two priests builds, forcing the true person within both characters to bubble to the surface, spilling out in an unexpected manner.
The movies music does a splendid job of capturing the loneliness many people feel at Christmas, and the main characters in Noelle are no different.
The story is not predictable in its' outcome from the outset, although an hour or so into it, the viewer gets a feeling it may twist in a certain direction because you almost want it to.
I felt great empathy for the character of Father Keane, because his job was the one no one would relish in doing. It is a thankless position that keeps him at arms length with the Church, the Almighty, and himself, creating an empty life within the shell of a "holy man".
If you are expecting gags and laughs to be dished out like Halloween candy like so many cheesy, box office hits, you will be disappointed. The real humor is in the dry wit and the naiveté of the characters that lay just below the surface throughout the movie. Save the fact that Father Keane does not know how to ride a scooter very well and takes some very predictable falls in the snow and ice, the real laughs will be within yourself as you begin to recognize members of your family, or even the person you see in the mirror, in how each character reacts to one another.
The movie has a serious message and is not for younger audiences because of the subject matter, but is tastefully done without explicit information being thrown in for dramatic effect.
I found Noelle heart-warming, well-done, and definitely a movie that will be on my Christmas watch list each year.
