The Triplets of Belleville (Sylvain Chomet)

One of the things I enjoy about animation is the amount of freedom directors have with the look of the film. Though the rise of technology has allowed live-action directors to create whatever they want, be it alien invader or sprawling metropolis, the audience can usually tell the difference between a real life city and acting in front of a green screen. Though technology has allowed directors to stretch their imaginations like never before, there's something about good old hand-drawn animation that appeals to the artist in me. But I'm getting ahead of myself.



The Triplets of Belleville, an animated film by French director Sylvain Chomet, tells the story of Madame Souza, an elderly woman who must rescue her grandson, Champion, who has been kidnapped by the French mafia. Along with her obese hound Bruno, her journey takes her all the way to the city of Belleville, where she comes across a trio of sisters, music hall singers from the 1930s who aid her in her quest. As Souza's investigation deepens and she learns the purpose behind her grandsons kidnapping, it becomes even more imperative she free him as soon as possible.

It's the whole package deal of fantasy metropolises, dream versions of Paris and New York drawn like something you'd find in a classic and especially charming comic book, and song and dance and bizarre humor and tender affections and mythical mysteriousness. It's like the Marx Brothers and Fred Astaire and Tim Burton and the people who make romantic, old-fashioned postcards of great cities collaborated on a nearly silent tale of love and adventure. With all the finger-snapping music, you hardly notice that there's hardly any dialogue, that the story is told almost entirely visually, marvelously expressive faces telling us all we need to know.



Though this is indeed a French film it features little to no dialogue; most of the characters actions are done in pantomime or song, and one doesn't need to know much about French culture to get what's going on. With all the finger-snapping music, you barely notice that there's hardly any dialogue, that the story is told almost entirely visually, marvelously expressive faces telling us all we need to know. You want to drink in and savor every peculiar face, fond caricatures all, and every fantastical neighborhood we travel through because they're all so unexpected and delightful.

Weird and wonderful, repulsive and beautiful film, The Triplets of Belleville is an experience in animation, a testament to Chomets skill as a director and a visionary of his craft.