Les triplettes de Belleville

Within the first five minutes of The Triplets of Belleville I knew I was about to see either one of the worst films of the year, or one of the best- writer/director Sylvain Chomet and art director/designer Evgnei Tomov have created a (animated) world in which they seem to be in love with every frame, every image, every musical note, and at first there is that sense that this is an off-putting style. But soon I realized that what Chomet and Tomov were doing was much like what Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali did with their classic Un Chien Andalou. The story is not incomprehensible because it's simple enough so that a child could follow along, and the strategy thus is to tell it with an artistic, intense, mad-cap, whatever you can think to call it, personalized view on the characters and the environments they get themselves into. That the film is from France adds a charm once the elements get skewed (the animators tackle the Tour de France, big cities, ocean-liners, singers, frogs, and the gangster underworld), and that it doesn't have- and doesn't need- subtitles to tell the story is another remarkable feat.

As the film reached into the last act, I then realized two things- 1) this is one of those films, like Un Chien Andalou and The Wall (the great Gerald Scarfe's influence was one that I guessed, though there's probably more I didn't catch on), that won't appeal to everyone. Those expecting a cute French animated film can expect that, however a movie-goer needs to have an open mind to the material, and that the term "cute" would be taken for granted while being immersed in this film. 2) since the film is made like an original, without much compromise to where the story has to be headed or which characters do and say what, at the least The Triplets of Belleville works superbly to create an overwhelming state of mind for the viewer. Personally, I get exhilarated watching a movie where I don't even WANT to expect where the story is headed. Throughout most of the 80 minutes I felt an un-canny faith in the filmmakers that their oddball, free-wheeling visions wouldn't go up in smoke. And by the end I left wanting more for some reason or another. Like I said, some might be turned sour by the execution of the material, yet for others the fantasy-like nature of The Triplets of Belleville should make for an interesting night-out. For one thing, you won't get those frogs out of your mind very easily. A+

From the moment I pressed play on the DVD remote, the whole family was transfixed by this wonderful movie. It was so good, that we immediately watched it again. So what was so good about it? Well, firstly Bruno has to be the best dog (either animated or live) in any movie. The subtle observation of its daily routines are among my favourite scenes. Second, the humour is refreshingly dark and constantly surprising (it's not too far removed from Gary Larson's The Far Side). The scene showing the expansion of Paris to convey the passing of time had us in hysterics. Thirdly, it's just so imaginative. Everything is exaggerated beyond belief. If you like your animation to have a touch of realism, then stay away. In Belleville, things are grotesquely exaggerated. I've noticed a few negative comments about this film, which raises the question of who is going to like it and who isn't. I guess the fairest comment I can make is to say that this probably isn't mainstream stuff. If your favourite movies are summer blockbusters, then maybe this isn't for you. If, on the other hand, you like discovering quiet gems from time to time, stumbling across something a little different on a cable channel, then this could be just what you're looking for.

Yesterday evening a friend introduced me to this extraordinary piece of animation. After watching it I was left with the feeling that I'd just watched a film which communicated something to me, but I wasn't quite sure what that might be. For hours afterward I thought to myself, "Why did that film appeal to me so?" The story is simple and straightforward. The details are charming and nuanced. The rendering is a true tour-de-force. The one thing that caught my eye was the sheen of the water as Mme. Souza and Bruno are crossing the ocean in pursuit of her grandson. I can hardly believe that was animation. Then I noticed the play of the light on the water reflected against the hulls of the boats at dock in the harbor. My friend pointed out the skill of the graphic designers in maintaining the proper camera angles of the projected live film footage on the screen during the chase sequence.

The music is absolutely captivating. Everything from the opening dance-hall sequence to the extraordinary use of the Kyrie from Mozart's Mass in C Minor during the storm at sea and the entrance into the harbor of Belleville. Notice how the music builds in richness as the camera descends from the few spires at the beginning of the sequence to the dense mass at street level.

Remembering the details and how they relate to each other and the film as a whole keeps you thinking about the significance of the film's contents. For instance, I only now remember that the opening sequence was drawn in the archaic, fluid style of early cartoon animation (Steamboat Willy, Olive Oyl and Popeye) because, of course, it was depicting events which predated the time of the film proper. The style served a purpose, beyond being an end in itself.

For a long time after watching the film I remained puzzled about its appeal to me. I've seen a large number of animated feature films, but none have left me quite as reflective as did this one. I was less concerned with the meaning of the details. It is a cartoon, after all.

I continued to wonder about Madame Souza's expression. About how the creator was able to invest such meaning in those simple dark circles set behind thick lenses and the line of her mouth, which modulated between forthright resolve and a gentle satisfaction. Then it occurred to me. Beyond the larger outline of the story and the details in which it is couched, it tells us of the power of one person's love and concern for another. I suppose we all wish we could receive such unconditional love, and it makes us feel warm to think that such a thing could actually be. Even if only in a cartoon.

The film either will or will not appeal to you, depending on what it is you're looking for in an animated feature film. I watched it without expectations, and was left wondering, "Why does it resonate with me?" And you'll want to see it again.

'The Triplets of Belleville' is a strange, largely wordless animated feature by French filmmaker Sylvain Chomet. It tells the story of a sad and lonely young boy whose sweet and doting grandmother buys him a bicycle in the hopes that it will bring a sense of purpose to his life. It does, for as the years pass, the lad grows to become a competitive cyclist, thanks in large part to the tender encouragement and ministrations of this adoring, and, one must say, adorable woman. While he's taking part in the Tour de France, some Mafia henchmen kidnap the boy so they can use him for a bizarre and deadly gambling scheme. The majority of the film recounts the attempts by his intrepid grandmother and his unflaggingly loyal dog to track the youngster down and rescue him. Aiding them in this endeavor are the Triplets of Belleville, a trio of aging nightclub singers with some bizarrely French eating habits whom they encounter on their way.

Because the film employs almost no dialogue or voice-over narration, it is left mainly to the visuals to convey the storyline. For this purpose, Chomet relies almost exclusively on facial expressions and body language to spell out the major plot points. The film's unique look arises from its gross distortion of shape, line and form, particularly in regards to the human figures. The thin characters are spindly and angular almost to grotesqueness, while those who are overweight run to a corpulence of awe-inspiring proportions. And the Mafia figures bring new meaning to the term 'broad-shouldered.' But it isn't just the humans. The thin, needle-like skyscrapers rise to impossible heights, while an ocean liner's hull is stretched vertically to such an extent that we expect the ship to capsize from its preposterously un-seaworthy design at any moment.

The film is filled with moments of great imagination, as when it visualizes the black-and-white dreams of an aging dog, or when it turns the tables and shows us three cartoon characters laughing it up while watching some 'live action' characters on TV indulging in inane slapstick madness.

Like all fine animated films, 'The Triplets of Belleville' creates its own unique world, filled with images and sights we've never quite seen before. By eliminating speech as a means of storytelling, the filmmaker heightens the surrealistic tone of what is being shown on screen.

'The Triplets of Bellville' isn't a great film, but its uniqueness of vision and form makes it one well worth watching.

While a lot of the comments here seem to see this as the antithesis of American Disney- or Pixar-style animation, its blood lines are not as far removed from those examples as you might think. Chomet explains in short documentary features on the DVD that the film was meant to look hand drawn, and though the character designs originated as loosely-rendered blue pencil sketches on Chomet's drawing pad, much if not all of what you see in the film itself is indeed computer animation. The look of the film, according to Chomet, is actually heavily influenced by Disney's "new" animation style of the 1960s that was unveiled in the film "101 Dalmatians."

At the same time, it can't be denied that this film is distinctly European in style, and likely to bore people who expect an animated film to be bright, colorful, loud, and not particularly subtle or complex. Its wealth of detail is staggering, and can't be taken in through one cursory viewing. The little quirks of characterization and character design are numerous, but all the easier to discern because it's cinema in the classical sense of being primarily a visual medium, and there's not a lot of yammering for the sake of plot exposition or as a shortcut to characterization. Those are meant to be gained through observation, and what a feast for the eyes it is. This is another example of a film at which simple people with simple tastes lob the tired old warhorse criticism "pretentious." There's nothing wrong or shameful in having simple tastes, bit I wish they wouldn't feel thus obligated to publicly pee all over any work of art more subtle than a Roger Rabbit cartoon.

I think special mention should be made of the soundtrack, which is a rich brew of sound layered on sound, but with a decidedly delicate touch. Note the sound effects in the climactic car chase through the streets of Belleville. Most filmmakers would be temped to goose up the excitement and chaos of the scene with loud, piercing sounds of crashing, screeching tires, gunshots, etc. While these noises are present, they are in fact applied very lightly and delicately, sounding almost like the collision of toy cars and the shooting of toy guns, which lends the scene a surreal, otherworldly quality that the more conventional choice of loud, overbearing sound effects wouldn't yield. It's been remarked here that the combination of minimalist dialog, strange characters, and baroquely complex settings are reminiscent of Jeunet, and I think that's the most apt comparison, particularly his earlier style as in "Delicatessen."

The first scene is of particular interest in that it is in a different style from the rest of the film, designed to look like old black and white animation from the 1930s. One of the conventions of animated shorts in that era was to include bizarre caricatures of celebrities. Now I recognized Django Reinhardt, Josephine Baker, and Fred Astair, but who was the orchestra conductor supposed to be? He has very distinctive features which lead me to believe he represents some specific real person, but nobody comes to mind. Maybe he's someone better known to a French audience? I'd be very interested to know.

Some people seem to think there is a strong anti-American bias to this film. Does it poke fun at North-Americans? Sure it does, but it also makes fun of the French (note the huge noses, receding chins, and tiny little mustaches, along with the Triplets' penchant for regarding whatever slimy thing they can yank out of the swamp as a succulent delicacy). Admittedly this French caricaturing is not quite as barbed as the swipes at American culture. But come on, we're big boys. We can take it! Just gnaw on a few freedom fries and suck it up already. Actually, this film sort of sums up the history of France's attitudes toward American culture over the last 70 years. They adored us in the 1930s, but the honeymoon has been over for a while.

One more detail. To an earlier commentator who found it hilarious that in the song "Belleville Rendezvous" the Triplets sing the phrase "ca-ca," they are in fact singing "can can" ("voodoo, can-can"). The characteristic French pronunciation "cahn-cahn" just makes it sound a lot like "ca-ca."