In between Walt Disney and Tim Burton lies the dark beauty and humor of director Sylvain Chomet’s French animated film “The Triplets of Belleville.” This film totally upsets notions of the dominance of American animation. Somewhere out there, Uncle Walt is turning over in his cryogenic grave.
“Triplets” follows a simple plot. The grandmother and heroine, Madame Souza, trains her grandson Champion to be a world-class cyclist. When Champion is kidnapped during the Tour de France by the sinister French Mafia, Souza must travel to the big city of Belleville with Champion’s loyal dog, Bruno. With the aid of ancient triplets, a trio of once-famous jazz singers, Souza tames the big city and sets out to rescue her grandson.
However, the plot is somewhat secondary to what amounts to one of the richest animated worlds ever created. The frames are packed with visual delights that make each moment a true feast for the eyes. And while the movie is basically a silent film containing no dialogue of any real importance, the surprisingly expressive characters carry the storyline brilliantly. Despite being a foreign piece, there is no prerequisite background in the French language is required. Most of the scant “speech” is essentially gibberish with a few actual French words thrown in.
The score and sound provide other dominant features that makes this film so unique. Musical director Benoît Charest sets the mood and speaks for the characters while perfectly synching the tone of his music to the jazzy style of the animation. He accomplishes some fantastic feats, such as coaxing jazz tunes out of a vacuum cleaner.
Again, “Triplets” completely lays to waste the conventions of American animation and even Japanese anime. Flawless integration of 3-D computer work to the slightly gritty 2-D animation makes Hollywood’s attempts look crude at best. The art direction is closer to innovative long-form graphic novels than to traditionally linear feature-length animations. Chomet’s work captures the true intensity and density of often dreary and hectic city life from the perspective of a country grandma.
The duo of Souza and Bruno is the film’s most charming creation. Their partnership calls upon some classic Laurel and Hardy overtones to form a snappy and witty pair of characters that the audience finds incredibly sympathetic without being synthetic. Despite the Triplets’ top billing, they are hardly the stars.
The film’s core genius lies is in its humor: Subtly subversive, fraught with running jokes, and highbrow and lowbrow all at once. The laughter “Triplets” can elicit adds polish to a somewhat rough story, turning the film into a gem that sparkles with wit. The city of Belleville, which seems to embody the worst perceptions of America, becomes the stage for a comedic exploration of the love/hate Franco-American relationship. The first image we see of the city is a harbor view dominated by a grotesquely obese Statue of Liberty. This image received some of the biggest laughs from the crowd — which I can only assume was an audience primarily dominated by Americans — and further paves the way for other cultural parodies.
This type of lighthearted criticism is made all the more palatable by Chomet’s willingness to mock the French as well. The red-nosed French Mafia boss uses as his cover a French wine organization with the slogan “In Vino Veritas,” and the French Mafia proves to be horrific when it comes to driving. However, not all of the jokes are so intellectual; one of the more pleasing running gags stems from Bruno the dog’s recurring hatred of trains, which viewers witness to be the result of his puppy-era accident with a model train.
Taken as whole, “Triplets” breaks the mold so completely that it is hard to compare it to other examples. It will certainly become the yardstick for future animated features.
“The Triplets of Belleville” is currently playing at the Bijou Art Cinemas at 492 E. 13th Ave.