collected writings

The Triplets of Belleville

"The Triplets of Belleville" was recently nominated for Best Animated Feature alongside "Finding Nemo," but the two films could not be more different. Where the celebrity voices in "Nemo" bounce the film along at a brisk clip, there is very little dialog (not to mention a distinct lack of saucer-eyed animals) in "Triplets." No sunny musical numbers, no heartwarming ending, no associated fast food tie-in. Let's face it; "Triplets" is not you child's cartoon.

The film concerns the elderly Madame Souza and her grandson Champion, born and bred to become The Champion of the Tour de France. All dreams for a title slowly fade into the distance with the cycling front-runners, that is, until Belleville (hint: New York) gangsters kidnap Champion for somewhat more nefarious purposes. Somehow his rescue is related to the title characters, three jazz era hags that crone eclectic and catchy scat in underground bars.

I say somehow; between the wacky/eerie imagery and the few French words that form musical gibberish that most likely wouldn't be understood in Paris, there are multiple paths of understand and piecing this story together.

Director and animator Sylvain Chomet seems happy with the confused, inspired reaction this film elicits. The real beauty in this film is the animation, the visuals, the sheer creativity. Elements everywhere are exaggerated beyond even what is standard for cartoons.

Characters are defined by the way they walk; Champion becomes a hop-nosed vulture as he leans over his handlebars training for the race. Souza clomps away in her massive steel boot, correcting a (much) shorter leg.

Sight gags dominate, both the obvious - reshaping the Statue of Liberty into an obese woman clutching a hamburger - and the subtle. A tiny poster for Monsieur Hulot's Holiday hidden in one room hints at who the real predecessors of "Triplets" actually are: not Disney, but Jacques Tati, Chaplin, Keaton, and Dalí.

Animated films today are largely created within computers, giving them a modern, industrial sheen. The hand drawn, hand animated wizardry of "Triplets" comes as a relief, about all the relief the film offers during its 80 minute run across the continent and the States.

Among critics, there is little consensus to what aesthetic style the film emulates; comparisons have ranged from surrealism to George Booth, "Steamboat Willie" to Peanuts. In truth, the film is none of these, or all of these, as the pictures let the mind wander and create a few links here and there.

To the great credit of creator Chomet, the film, though completed by scores of animators (and yes, a few computers), works as though it was created by a single, albeit warped, mind. An image of the wine-soaked, ink-stained cartoonist comes to mind, one that is every much as dirty, as creepily captivating, and as fantastic as those offered in, "Les Triplettes de Belleville."