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Film: The City Of Lost Children
Release date: 30th April 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 108 mins
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet & Marc Caro
Starring: Ron Perlman, Dominique Pinon, Jean-Claude Dreyfus, Daniel Emilfork, Judith Vittet
Genre: Adventure/Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France/Germany/Spain
Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro are names well known among lovers of foreign art cinema, and this fame is justified by the prestige and quality their films boast. Together, they created the beautifully bleak Delicatessen in 1991, which told the tale of a post-apocalyptic world of beastly butchers and underground groups with vigour. Their next film after Delicatessan was La Cite Des Enfants Perdu, known as The City Of Lost Children in English, which was released in 1995, and entered into that year’s Cannes Film Festival.
Like the more recent Hollywood blockbuster Inception, The City Of Lost Children is a story about dreams, and, as with Inception, the story is sometimes confusing yet always intriguing. Krank (Daniel Emilfork), an artificially-created mad scientist resembling a live-action version of Mr. Burns, has found himself aging far too quickly, and realises this is because he does not have the ability to dream. To remedy this, he captures children from a nearby dystopian city to extract their dreams, even if, at the moment, he can only extract their nightmares.
One of these children is the younger brother of a slow-witted circus strongman called One (Ron Perlman in his first major film role). After failing to save his sibling from being seized by the Cyclops’, One finds a group of young orphans who steal for a pair of Siamese twins known as The Octopus (Genevieve Brunet and Odile Malet). One befriends one of these children, a girl named Miette (Judith Vittet), and they work together to find One’s little brother, while trying to evade the Octopus and Krank’s aids…
While the film itself may not be appropriate for children, the story may at first seem like the type of thing one would expect from a children’s movie. The childlikeness of the story works in the film’s favour, as the contrast between this and the more disturbing elements, like the misshapen machinery and devilish cults, help the film achieve a fantastical quality appropriate for a story revolving around dreams. That contrast is superbly highlighted in the film’s opening scene, where a festive scene of a child meeting Santa comes undone when more Santas arrive - these more devious and wicked, as the screen distorts and warps.
What also helps the film’s dreamlike quality is its visual motifs, creating a world that is surreal yet believable. The majority of the scenes are bathed in a diseased yellow, filling the scenes with a sick light that still allows for plenty of shadows. The titular city is a grisly metropolis filled with filthy, twisted buildings and framed by a sea of slime, and Krank’s quarters are a grim mixture of an old submarine and the typical mad scientist laboratory. A lot of imagination has gone into the creation of this film, and the visuals show it.
Sadly, however, at times, it feels like too much imagination has been used, which leads to ridiculous scenes like One and Miette being tied up in a cartoonish amount of rope, and how a single tear from Miette’s eye sets off a chain reaction that ends up saving her from a brainwashed One. Most of the time, the lack of realism works for the film and its theme, but scenes like these tend to distract from the story rather than add to it. At least the special effects used to create them look good, save for some false-looking fleas.
Of special note is the film’s soundtrack, created by constant David Lynch collaborator Angelo Badalamenti. The score of the film perfectly accentuates what is happening on screen, especially the haunting tones it produces during the story’s more solemn, emotional moments. There is also effective use made of the lack of music in some scenes as well - a scene with the Octopus is accompanied by only the ticking of a clock to sinister effect. The theme song of the film, sung by Marianne Faithfull, is also a beautifully performed, yet melancholy piece - a perfect summary of the story.
It is not just the sets and music that make The City Of Lost Children come alive, for what would this hellish city be without its hellish citizens? Ron Perlman is generally serviceable as One, but still less than impressive. The character he is portraying may not be all that intelligent, but scenes like his tantrum at losing his little brother, and the obligatory loud ‘No!’ he screams after believing Miette to be dead make it hard to take him seriously. Judith Vittet, however, is perfectly cast as One’s aid, bringing the role a good amount of cynicism and seriousness, yet with some compassion as well. Daniel Emilfork crafts the greatest performance as Krank, bringing a truly cruel and vicious villain, yet also creating some sympathy for the character in the vein of Edward Scissorhands. The children of the film are effective and never annoying - both actresses playing the Octopus complement each other and bring an air of stern villainy, and Krank’s assistants – his ‘brothers’, a female dwarf and a living brain – are fine accompaniments for the villain.
The City Of Lost Children may not be for everyone; those seeking realism and a plot that is simple to follow may not enjoy it. Some elements of the film may be ridiculous, but it is, on the whole, a well-made film with fine acting and set design, which is beautiful because it is so ugly. GB
Film: The City Of Lost Children
Release date: 30th April 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 108 mins
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet & Marc Caro
Starring: Ron Perlman, Dominique Pinon, Jean-Claude Dreyfus, Daniel Emilfork, Judith Vittet
Genre: Adventure/Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France/Germany/Spain
Belgian directing duo Caro and Jeunet made a dramatic entry into French cinema with the highly acclaimed cult movie Delicatessen, yet their follow-up movie, and their final collaboration, is rarely mentioned in comparison. Does it deserve to be heralded as a beguiling fantasy, or will it forever remain a curio just too bizarre to be truly recognised on its own merits?
Set in a dark, dystopic naval village, the narrative follows circus strongman One (Perlman) who’s little brother is kidnapped by evil scientist Krank (Emilfork). Krank is in the process of stealing children’s dreams in the hope that they will slow down his rapid aging process, as he is himself unable to dream. Assisting Krank in this diabolical scheme is an assortment of strange characters, including Uncle Irvin, a talking brain located in a tank, and six clones who all suffer from falling asleep at inappropriate times (Pinon).
As One desperately attempts to find his brother, he falls in with a group of street urchins working as thieves and pickpockets. However, they are being controlled by conjoined twins known as the Octopus, who are given all the jewels and money at the end of the day by the frightened children. The smartest and most mature of the urchins, Miette (Vittet) takes a shine to One and runs away with him to assist in his mission. The Octopus is not prepared to let one of their best thieves just walk away, however, and hires the Cyclops gang to track her down...
The opening two scenes in The City Of Lost Children efficiently establish the tone of the film straight away. From the surreal opening dream sequence, where a visit from a sweet and gentle Santa, one of the iconic images of childhood, is gradually distorted and twisted until it ends with a child crying and a old man screaming, we cut straight to our protagonist working at his job – in the circus. This would be a suitable permanent location, as the film is constantly populated by unforgettable characters that would not be out of place in a carnival of freaks.
Caro and Jeunet are not the only ones responsible for such memorable and extraordinary imagery: assisting them is a truly heavyweight production crew, which includes costumes by Jean-Paul Gaultier, who provides far more striking and less silly garments than those that he did for The Fifth Element a couple of years later. Darius Khondji’s camera swoops and glides through shots effortlessly, while regular Lynch collaborator Angelo Badalamenti’s score is perfect for creating the dark tone and atmosphere prevalent throughout.
The blend of a directing team on top form and the available quality in the crew combine to conjure up ideas and images that have rarely been seen in cinema. A virtuoso sequence which starts by following a flea on its journey and ends in a Rube Goldberg-esque large scale disaster; a visually stunning meeting-room of monstrous businessmen; and almost any scene involving Uncle Irvin – dripping with flamboyance and panache. The film is one of the most expensive in French cinema history, and it shows. In fact, it is a testament to the work done by Caro and Jeunet that the film looks even more expensive than its actual impressive budget.
It would have been understandable if the actors would have been reduced to mere line recitations while the viewers’ eyes boggle at the scenery around them. Thankfully, the actors rise to the challenge and actually enrich the experience. Perlman didn’t speak French at the time of filming, yet learned all his lines in the language specifically for the film. This actually aids his performance, as his halting, almost monosyllabic delivery gives One a childlike quality in stark contrast to his hulking physicality. Perlman’s early roles in small foreign films such as this and Cronos were interesting career choices, and appropriate for his unusual appearance.
Judith Vittet is luminous as little Miette, and gives one of the finest child performances in recent times. Indeed, a suitable comparison is Natalie Portman in Leon, a film that shares similarities with The City Of Lost Children in terms of the moral ambiguity of its central relationship. Miette and One are diametrically opposed in terms of appearance and age, yet their mental connection becomes increasingly close until it almost becomes romantic. Wisely, Caro and Jeunet do not concentrate on this aspect of the film, instead leaving it open to interpretation.
The central, constant location of the film, Krank’s laboratory, is where the real off-the-wall character acting is to be found. Emilfork plays Krank wonderfully, emphasising his disgusting physical aspects at first, then slowly revealing more subtle details about himself as an individual until our loathing is mixed slightly with pity. Pinon shoulders most of the slapstick responsibility in the film, and it is to his credit that he also adds layers of emotional depth to the clones while channelling elements of Jerry Lewis and Jacques Tati so effectively. Pinon followed Jeunet to his next production, Alien: Resurrection, yet his career never soared as majestically as it should have, judging by his superb work here.
Yet the film is not without its weaknesses. The plot is not as focused as Delicatessen, and gets confusingly convoluted in the middle. However, once the central quest is re-established, and we race towards the climax, the film builds towards a satisfying, if slightly rushed denouement.
A dark and twisted fantasy that is vividly brought to life by both cast and crew, The City Of Lost Children combines elements of the work of Terry Gilliam and Tim Burton with a Gallic sensibility that sets it apart from other films in the fantasy genre. It may not always be the most coherent movie you will ever see; yet there is always a visual or acting delight to keep the eye occupied. Hopefully, the film will one day be reappraised and applauded for its ambition, and, above all, the directors’ commitment to ideas.
Film: Delicatessen
Release date: 13th September 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 96 mins
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet & Marc Caro
Starring: Jean-Claude Dreyfus, Dominique Pinon, Marie-Laure Dougnac, Pascal Benezech, Karin Viard
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: Blu-ray
Country: France
The bizarro team of Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro (in their debut) present the idiosyncrasies of post-apocalyptic French life where cannibalism, musical monkeys and a malevolent postman are just part of the everyday.
Clapet is a butcher; he also owns his own apartment building, where the tenants rely on him as their only source of sustenance. In this ambiguous world where “nothing grows anymore”, Clapet has only one source for his wares. Unfortunately, this method tends to mean that his building never gets any serious maintenance work done.
Louison, an unemployed Circus Clown, is the latest tenant/caretaker/victim, and his sweet nature causes him to form a romance with Clapet’s daughter, Julie.
In a bid to save Louison’s life, Julie plots with the Troglodistes, a group of Vegetarian freedom fighters to end her father’s reign of terror for good…
The plot is only half the story; Jeunet and Caro are more interested in style and character. A mix of Lynchian nightmare and Gilliamesque chaos, Delicatessen is as oddball an experience as one could hope to see. The outside world is barely viewed, and when it is, it is shrouded in thick fog (probably as much due to budgetary constraints as artistic vision), and so what we do see is a strange group of people, living in a strange house in a world we don’t fully understand. Amongst the group is an old man who keeps his room like a swamp (complete with live frogs) to attract snails for him to eat, a pair of brothers who manufacture “moo boxes,” and a woman who can’t commit suicide because of faulty plumbing.
This plethora of eccentrics add nothing whatsoever to the aforementioned plot, but they do assist in adding detail to a rounded world that as an audience we don’t mind spending ninety minutes in - which makes things far more exciting than your average plot mechanics.
With so much wall to wall quirk, it would be easy for the film to lose its heart; thankfully Jeunet and Caro are too smart for that, and have created the chaste romance between Louison and Julie, a courtship so sweet and so timid that we’re left with no choice but to root for them from the start.
Highlights include Louison and Mademoiselle Plusse (Clapet’s ‘lover’ - a term used as loosely as possible) testing the bed to find the creaky spring (not as smutty as it sounds), and a gloriously absurd moment where the tenants are almost dancing in unison as they go about their daily routine (to the sound of the abovementioned spring, no less).
Jeunet went on to added fame ten years later with the critically acclaimed Amelie, and his more recent output (A Very Long Engagement, Micmacs) proves that he hasn’t lost his eye for offbeat weirdness, but as with many artists with a singular vision, it is hard to forget what is was like to see them at work for the very first time.
Delicatessen isn’t perfect, it loses it’s way towards the end as the need for a resolution becomes necessary (Pixar’s WALL-E actually springs to mind), but it is a thing of absolute beauty, and even at nineteen years of age it looks stunning on Blu-ray, proving that if a film is well shot it can be spruced up just as beautifully as the latest hi-definition releases. And most importantly, like Delicatessen’s own setting, can be absolutely timeless.
As gorgeous a film as you’re ever likely to see - with enough charm to make the nonsense work. The thinness of the plot is actually a plus, and the inherent sweetness is enough to disarm even the sternest of viewers. SEAN
