Kirikù e la strega Karabà

I've always had this idea that popcorn and Coke were added to fill a void that most film storylines leave untouched. That such a void can filled at all, simply by bloating out stomachs with toasted corn and carbonated sugar water, is a subject that might well be worth entering into, another day. "Kirikou et la sorcière" has the spartan charm of so many stories and fables from Africa. It is as if the scarcity of food and water that illustrated in this story - as in so many like it - had, in turn, to be compensated by making the fable rich in wondrous colourful fantasy and highly nourishing in details that describe the frequently comical and pathetic side to human behaviour. The travesty I see is that, while this film is available in German, French and Spanish, puritans in countries like the US and the UK have, once again, determined that - in an effort at sparing depraved censors the discomfort of twitching at the sight of happily naked village kids and their semi naked mothers - my children shall not be allowed to learn about life in cultures other than their own, nor to hear lessons of great wisdom but may, instead, freely view animated violence and large doses of their own recycled high school yarns. Cannibalise cartoon & eat Pokemon!

I saw this at a Museum of Modern Art screening in Manhattan and, completely unexpectedly, Michel Ocelot appeared to take questions from the audience. He said several things of interest to IMDb readers: first, that he grew up in French Guinea, and that much of the flavor of the film is based on his childhood memories. Second, though this movie played all over Europe, the wonderful African-accented dub in English (and also in French) is not echoed in other languages because it wouldn't be authentic. Third, the movie was applauded everywhere it played in Europe, but England and America "have a problem with breasts." In the US it had to be released (a very limited release) without a rating, because it would inevitably be rated R (for breasts) and thus children wouldn't be able to see it. Fourth, it was loved in Africa where it played. Screening conditions were less than ideal, but Ocelot & co. made an effort to take the movie to the bush.

A beautifully realized animated film about, on a simplistic level, a child, who, by his wits, saves his village from the evil sorceress, Karaba. But it's much more than that, if we pay attention. For the question the child, Kirikou, keeps asking is, "Why is Karaba so mean and evil?" It is the answer to that question, and Kirikou's response, that lifts this film above the ordinary. It also has a great sound track by Youssou N'Dour. Unfortunately, it's not an easy film to find, so if it it ever turns up on a station near you, make sure your VCR is ready.

It's no surprise that this animated adventure is mostly culled from old West African legends, as it plays like a straightforward, unflinching fairy tale. Completely absurd notions, like the infant protagonist emerging at a dead sprint from his mother's womb, are dismissed offhand in the same vein as Little Red Riding Hood's incognito wolf. That fundamental acceptance frees up the storyline to be as wildly adventurous as it likes, and coats the whole endeavor in a veil of whimsy and charm. The result is a yarn on par with Miyazaki and Disney, although the uneven animation quality ultimately keeps it from reaching those lofty heights. At times it's as beautiful and fluid as the best western animation, with a style and panache all its own, but that dedication rarely lasts long. Bright, innocent and optimistic, it's solid fare for open-minded families who don't mind navigating a sea of topless native tribeswomen.

Kirikou has a joyful feel, despite the harsh oppression of the village by the witch and her various "fetishes". It's the only animated feature I'm aware of based on West African traditions, and it seemed reasonably authentic in its portrayal of the village and its environments - though I don't actually know if it got anything right beyond the baobob tree. It's true that the villagers' breasts are bared, but also worth noting that neither of my kiddos (6 and 8) even commented on it. We had all enjoyed Michael Ocelot's shorts, collected in the Tales of the Night, and at 68 minutes, this film feels like an extended short. The major draw, of course, is Kirikou, whom my son especially found appealing: walking and talking straight from the womb, a fast runner, brave, and wise, and thus celebrated by the villagers in song.