Amélie Nothomb didn't strike me as the easiest writer to translate for children, even though in Metaphysics of Tubes she romanced her earliest memories, particularly those involving her Japanese nurse, to whom she owed boundless admiration. The thematic heart of the story is precisely this transition: from the "God-tube," an infant entirely self-centered on primal needs, absorbing everything but retaining nothing, to the little girl who, accumulating positive and negative experiences, gradually opens herself to the world, its concepts, emotions, and sensations.
More than the touching bond between the girl and her caretaker - emphasised more heavily in the novel - what stands out in this adaptation is the visual feast: the explosion of shapes and colours once the child emerges from her vegetative meditation upon discovering chocolate, the shimmering pastels evoked by even the smallest stroll in the garden, the veil of dreamlike or lucid fantasy that overlays each new discovery. These elements can't yet be fully understood, but their reinterpretation occupies a vital place in Amélie's imagination.
This animated adaptation positions itself somewhere between a children's film and an adult one. Despite a singular aesthetic direction that won't please everyone, it delivers sheer delight for the eyes while judiciously retaining enough of the author's words to let the adaptation breathe without burden. It's brief, perhaps, but more than enough to say everything that needs to be said.
