Amélie (2001)

“Ain’t life beautiful, though?” – Georgette (Isabelle Nanty)

Magic has always played an important role in filmmaking. Whether it’s the larger-than-life nature of the movie theater or the intimate power of storytelling, the things that make movies beautiful can unfortunately get lost in the shuffle when you make film your business. It’s all the more worthwhile then, when something genuinely affecting comes along. All the rarer, too, when the message is not one meditating on the frailty or ugliness of life – but roundly affirms it. Movies like Life is Beautiful, Up, and Harvey. In its own way, embracing the magic of storytelling and the terrifying, thrilling act of falling in love, Amélie (directed by charmer Jean-Pierre Jeunet) joins their ranks.

The film is a chittering, often hyperactive trip through the streets of Paris. In the way that French films so often do, it works not as a series of vignettes but as a scrapbook of collected stories. It’s an apartment drama, but the curious narration lends the story a delightful, fable-like quality that makes the message perfectly transcendant. While often childlike, the story embraces adult elements with surprising aplomb. Amusing sequences including an orgasm montage and several scenes in a porno shop add certain mature touches, but it’s in a very fanciful, European sort of way. It’s also gentle, sweet even, in its discussion of love and touch. I think that’s brave in our cinematic climate, and to work genuinely is a real feat.

Beyond the charming romance between stellar lead Amélie (Audrey Tautou) and Nino (Mathieu Kassovitz) is a cast full inventive characters. As Amélie travels the streets of Paris she latches onto the idea that she can make life better by helping others. A blind man crossing the street, a bereaved widow, a lonely co-worker, and even a reclusive Renoirist. Each one plays a small role in the mystery, helping and teaching Amélie about the beauty of life. Ultimately, she must confront the difficult decision of whether to open herself up to the challenge of love in her own life. A simple, seemingly aimless conceit. But the way the film manages to stitch all the minor stories together (and utilize small details to further larger plot goals) is a real treat.

Then there’s the look of the film itself. This is generally a very important thing to me, but I don’t always talk about it too much because a lack of terminology can be a bit daunting. That said, the cinematography is gorgeous. Even with little color vision, it’s clear the crew went to great lengths to create dynamic, powerful frames of lighting. There’s also snatches of animation, and a considerable amount of Gondry-esque visual tricks. While I generally think of inventive visual techniques as a post-2005 thing (perhaps that’s more American cinema like A Scanner Darkly) there are tons of cool (and weird) stunts in this one. This not only adds to that magic I mentioned, as does the pace of the film itself, but it gives the love story a fantastic feel that propels things beautifully.

I probably sound like I’m gushing. And I am, at least a little bit. But there are certain moments when you watch something that not only pushes boundaries in the best way (the unique cinematography, the playful storytelling techniques) and manages to retain remarkable heart. It’s very French, especially in the playful, sprawling storyline. But the magic of the movie, of watching a young woman embrace life (and in doing so propel others upward) runs so counter-cultural to the hyper-critical and elitist youth cultures we perpetuate today. The wonder of Amélie is just that – life and love stem from helping others and finally having the courage to take hold of love and grab it for ourselves. No message could be more important, few films can capture it so well.

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