Amélie

Man, this movie rocks. I don't know how anyone with a heart could watch this and not have a smile on their face the entire time. Talk about a film that is bursting with creativity. I have a feeling that whenever I start a new project - a film, a screenplay, a book, photography, whatever - I plan to rewatch Amelie. From the characters, to the story, to the cinematography (more on this later), to the production design, to the performances, this film oozes charm, sincerity, and creativity. I'm at a very sincere time in my life. I've been thinking more and more about the ripple effects of existence, the upstream decisions and their downstream effects. I've been thinking about the chances we do and don't take. I've been thinking about friendships, love, and humor in a way that I simply didn't when I was nineteen (ten years ago). This film contains it all within a neat, chaotic (I know, that might sound paradoxical), and colorful little package. Amelie (the film) is, in essence, a distillation of what the world could look like if we follow the wisdom of storytelling - movies, books, whatever. We become better people when we pay attention; both to both the world around us and to the art that gestures to that very world. Amelie (the person) is an observer, her greatest asset, which becomes her biggest hurdle. She somehow knows what people need, even if they don't themselves. Lucien needs someone to stand up to his boss. Georgette needs love. The writer at the bar needs recognition (even if it's a quote from his manuscript spray-painted on a wall). Her father needs to travel. The woman in her building needs the belief that her husband loved her. But what does Amelie need? She needs someone who sees her - actually sees her. Someone who shares the same observer mentality. But the funny thing about being an observer (and never the observed) is that that water can be icy to dive into - and so, you hesitate. Hesitate too long, and you become a curmudgeonly old man painting the same Renoir painting over and over with no one to share them with. When Amelie finally stands face to face with Nino in the threshold of her apartment, it achieves something cinematically akin to a delayed orgasm - FINALLY! And that scene doens't work if you don't have the charm and the gusto preceding it. Everything from the small box if childhood trinkets to the garden gnome Polaroids to the scavenger hunt she sends Nino on just works for me. It's a film, to me, that invites you to take more careful notice of the world and people around you. It makes you question, "What does my father like and dislike? Does he like reorganizing his toolbox? Does he like peeling wallpaper? Does he dislike it when people crack their knuckles?" The film preaches the beauty that's in the world when we aren't so insular, when we aren't so quick to judge, when we aren't afraid to intervene, even in invisible ways. Life happens all around us, and most of us rarely ask how the shopping carts make it back to their little shopping cart garage. Someone put them there. It's difficult to put into words my thoughts on the creativity inthis film. I was sitting in my living room just now, rewatching and marveling at the stunning camerawork that never seems to utilize the same trick twice, the editing that finds inventive ways of speeding up and slowing down time, while keeping the film moving at a breakneck pace. Just to rattle off a few of my favorite moments: The fish. Blubber" in the beginning, looking up at Amelie after getting dumped into the river. Amelie is daydreaming about Nino bringing yeast into her apartment. The pan down to the X-Ray image of Amelie's heart thumping at the sight of Nino. The man in the sewer grate giving Amelie heckling suggestions. All of the little pranks she pulls on the mean market guy. The rotating camera that flashes to white on Nino's face when he learns the identity of the photo booth repairman. Every time Amelie looks into the camera and giggles. Amelie walking the blind man to the subway and narrating everything she sees (the baby watching the dog that's watching the rotisserie chickens). Amelie watching TV where old movie characters are talking about her. The guy in the four-quadrant photo booth images talking to Nino about Amelie ("she kept me in her shirt pocket, by her breasts"). Amelie and Nino on the back of his bike, riding around the city. I could honestly go on and on. This movie is never not a pleasure to look at. Bruno Delbonnel is truly one of the greats, and I know he's talked about in certain circles, but in my opinion, he should be talked about more. Jean-Pierre Jeunet is a filmmaker I wish had more success after this film and had grown to be one of the "greats" we celebrate 20+ years later, but like several other newer French filmmakers, he never seemed to reach the same heights of this film. To reiterate, this is a film that should be a go-to for anyone about to create something. Maybe it's me, but it lights up certain synapses in my brain that seem to have been dormant. It reopens the can of worms called "possibility" and says, "Have you considered that the rules are bendable? Dare I say, breakable?" And by the end the film acts as a dare itself. Whatever that THING is that you're hiding behind the curtains from - whether it be a person, a goal, a dream, a basic task that feels too daunting - this film calls you out and says, if Amelie can do it, so can you! 9/10