The problem with this film is that describing the plot will only make it seem pretentious or fatally cutesy. It does get cute quite frequently but never without something grim injected for balance. It is never pretentious; it delivers on all its promises of dark fairytale worlds, grounded unreality and spectacle. City belongs to a loosely aligned series of whimsical cinema stretching from the early '80s to the '00s (say, from Diva to Amelie) by the likes of Besson, Beineix and the team that brought you this one, Jeunet and Caro. These films, whether they were set in elaborate waking nightmares or pushed versions of the more familiar worlds of criminal life, were known for flamboyant design, cranked music scores, and a kind of bruised whimsy that reminded its audiences of the pain at the receiving end of a slap in the face.
City of Lost Children is the peak of these. The commitment to world building, from the brass and glass machinery to the soot encrusted brick walls of the city to the stunning interiors, is total. The careful use of CGI is made with futureproofing subtlety. While much of the casting emphasises the peculiar physical features to distortion, every face and body seems to be a part of this solidly imagined place and time. Add to all of that the fact that it works, for all its convolutions of plot, as an achingly beautiful tale of redemption.
Ron Perlman, initially cast for height and bestial visage, has shown, role after role, that he's a strong performer, here again demonstrates his magnetism, tending toward his physical skills but convincing in the truncated dialogue he is given, a professional muscle learning speech. Judith Vittet as young Miette presents as tough as an eleven year old can. That this is done without older-than-her-years cuteness is a boon; her life so far has led to it and she has earned it. French cinema's goofy faced stalwart Dominique Pinon gets to play seven roles as the clones and their progenitor, each distinguishable from the others. Daniel Emilfork as Krank pushes his battleaxe face into his every scene but takes opportunity to show vulnerability along with threat without seam.
Music is by David Lynch regular Angelo Badalamenti and it's one of his most appealing. Ranging from organ grinder gothic to lush orchestral blooming, the music shoulders the extraordinary visuals, adding its own grandeur here and grit there. It sounds like he was enjoying his vacation from Lynchville.
I said that I thought this was a peak among the French whimsy but maybe I should have clarified that to mean it is the most timelessly presented one. When you are in front of this, you are not thinking of the underworld or dystopian futures or even political points about the fate of Earth's environment; this story exists within the imagination of its writers and creators, it transcends the few indicators of twentieth century technology and history to show a world both repurposed and dark. To its credit, while it can be grim it is never without heart and humour. If you seek it out, don't be put off by some of the abstruse plot complications, let the arc take you from peril and chaos to redemption and freedom. Above all, this is a fable of freedom and it feels like it even more than it did.
Viewing notes: I watched this from my 4K disc on a friend's new, enormous tv in Dolby Vision and 5.1. The transfer looks like film with no noticeable noise reduction but plenty of olde worlde grain. Splendid! The 4K is a local release at medium pricing. It's also rentable through Prime for cheap.
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