Looking back at Jean Pierre-Jeunet's Amelie

Every so often a film comes along that surpasses all expectations. One that is so different and unique that it stands out in its own genre as something special. Amelie is one of those films.

Amelie is a romance like no other. In fact, as the plot thickens, you begin to forget genre altogether, as you’re swept away into the magical Montmartre sector of Paris. Directed and co-written by Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Amelie’s plot is among the most simple ever devised, but with some of the most original and unusual characters ever created.

A quirky, introverted young woman falls for an equally strange young man and, despite all odds, they live together happily ever after. But as I said before, the plot thickens. Amelie (Audrey Tautou) lives her life as quietly and as easily as possible, taking refuge in solitude and living in a world of her own. This changes when, on the night of Princess Diana’s death, she discovers a little boy’s lost treasure hidden in her apartment.

In a moment of inspiration, she decides to reunite the owner with the lost treasure of his childhood, and sets about tracking him down.

She does so, and reduces an old man to nostalgic tears, as the surge of memories inspires the man to contact his family to make amends. His reaction prompts Amelie to become a ‘do-gooder’ and sets about fixing the lives of those around her.  

Amelie, then, is like no ordinary romance, and is largely a character-led film. The characters are so eclectic and unusual, they could only congregate in a city like Paris. And yet, while every one of them is strange, they all have obvious flaws we can all relate to.

They include a failed, reflective writer, a wise, ex-circus performer turned café owner, a flirty waitress, a cynical concierge, a rejected lover-turned-stalker, a good-hearted but dim one-armed grocer, a mean, ignorant grocer, a hypochondriac, and a wise old hermit with a brittle skeleton.

They’re unusual customers, and I haven’t even got to Amelie’s love interest yet. After stealing her father’s garden gnome in an attempt to draw him out of his solitude, Amelie meets Nino (Mathieu Kassovitz), a social outcast who collects unwanted photos from photo booths. She falls for the strange young man, but cannot bring herself to approach him. Helping her along the way is the Glass Man, a painter living on the floor below, who encourages her to face the world and accept life’s knocks.

What makes Amelie so amazing is its whimsical mix of live action and animation. Throughout, there are scattered animated sequences, including animals from Amelie’s mind, talking photos and paintings, as well as various scenes that illustrate characters’ feelings. For example, Amelie literally dissolves into a puddle when she fails to muster the courage to speak to Nino, and there is a touching scene where a blind man’s heart warms before our very eyes when Amelie describes the street that surrounds them.

The animation adds an element of escapism to the film, and really adds to its character, too. Another nice touch is the role of the narrator, an omniscient storyteller who gives us a further insight into the characters’ lives and feelings. It adds yet another dimension that steers the film as far away from reality as possible, without leaving it behind completely.

As Amelie begins, the narrator introduces its characters in the simplest terms. He gradually reveals new layers, until by the end of the film, we know all about them.

Amelie’s soundtrack is equally spellbinding. The eccentric mix of instruments reflects the characters brilliantly, and the soundtrack has, understandably, a distinctive French feel to it. It is uplifting, and enhances the many special moments in the film, including the sadness when Amelie’s goldfish is let out into the big wide world, and the happiness at the end of the film when she and Nino finally get together – though there's a definite lack of emotion when Amelie’s mother is tragically killed.

The film makes an equally atmospheric use of silence. This is particularly true at the end, where Amelie and Nino are finally alone together. As they’re about to kiss, there is only quiet. The scene is incredibly intense as we await the outcome: will Amelie go through with it?

Amelie is the ultimate feel-good, heart-warming film, and one that perhaps only the French could have made. It’s an example of what great filmmaking is: it’s whimsical and honest, it’s pure escapism, and yet at the same time, it’s something we can all relate to. The French invented cinema, and here, Jean Pierre-Jeunet is showing us how it’s done.

Amelie isn’t just a film, its art, portraying human feelings and senses in the best and purest way possible. It’s every emotion bound by magic into a spellbinding, rich film. Quite simply, it’s beautiful.

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