Before Finding Nemo or Mulan turned cartoons into an art form
wishing to be as visually realistic as possible, characters like Steamboat
Willie and Daffy Duck (the original really daffy version)
made cartoons... cartoonish. They didn't slavishly try to
imitate real life—instead, they were interested in caricature
and things that were physically impossible. As an homage to those
forgotten times, enter Les Triplettes.
Les Triplettes de Belleville (or, for you Francophobes, "The
Triplets of Belleville"), is an animated film released in 2003. It is
unusual in two respects: a caricatured style of animation and its
near-total lack of dialogue. The film is an example of excellent
story-telling; no dialogue is necessary to understand what's going on.
The characters are so cliched and one-dimensional that their motives
are unambiguous; their actions transparent. This is not a bad
thing—the movie's purpose is not to present an elaborate plot,
but to be a vehicle for stunning visuals and memorable music.
The visuals... how to describe them? Let's put it this way: it's like
a political cartoonist decided to make an animated feature. Our
protagonist, who is entered in the Tour de France, has calves (and a
nose) the size of his head; his arms and torso are matchstick thin. The hulking
gangsters have perfectly rectangular physiques. When the scene shifts
to Belleville (read: New York City), all of the citizens there are
so obese as to be nearly spherical. The head of the French Mafia,
whose headquarters' exterior decoration is dominated by wine bottles,
has a tippler's enormous red nose. Every character is, in essence,
a self-caricature.
The plot, such as it is, can be summarized thusly: a cyclist is
kidnaped by the French Mafia and taken to Belleville; his
trainer/guardian/grandmother (or aunt) follows him there, where she
gets the titular triplets to help her rescue him. But that's not
the point. The point is the ridiculously catchy tune that opens the
film. It's the ships that rise up out of the water like skyscrapers.
It's the lush colors of Belleville—complete with a hideously
obese Statue of Liberty, holding a cheeseburger. It's about an
old lady who can keep up with a
trained cyclist—while she's on a tricycle.
The triplets of Belleville are the show-stoppers. Singing sensations
in the '20s (as seen in the opening scene, where our protagonist and
his grandmother/aunt/whatever watch an old recording of their
performance), les triplettes remain in the musical theater
business until the time this movie takes place—but now as
percussionists. Their opening variety-show number is still stuck in
my head; their percussive performance in the second half of the
movie (with guest star grandmother on bicycle wheel) had me drumming along. The music really is a highlight of this
movie.
Go watch this movie! It's not a life-changing film: there's nothing
terribly deep or profound about it. Rather, it's entertainment at its
finest, and a welcome respite from the drive for realism in
cartoons. Plus, it's French, so you'll seem more cultured when you
watch it.