Sylvain Chomet 2013 France
Starring: Guillaume Gouix, Anne Le Ny, Bernadette Lafont, Hélène Vincent, Luis Rego, Jean-Claude Dreyfus, Kea Kaing, Fanny Touron, Vincent Deniard
Before the opening credits roll Sylvain Chomet's Attila Marcel is already an enigma. Chomet is best known for his animated films, the gorgeous yet grotesque Les Triplettes de Belleville (released in the UK as Belleville Rendez-vous) and the heartbreaking, almost entirely dialogue free The Illusionist, and, save for a short within the portmanteau anthology Paris je t'aime, Attila is his live-action debut, simultaneously an exciting prospect and a mysterious risk. Then there's the title with its combination of ferocity and entertainment. Attila immediately conjures up thoughts of the warrior ruler of the Huns although punk poet Attila the Stockbroker also comes to mind (possibly just mine). Marcel meanwhile could have multiple connotations. Chomet's previous embrace of mime conjures up images of legendary silent clown Marcel Marceau while the simplicity and nostalgia of his stories raises the possibility of a connection to the novelist, playwright and filmmaker Marcel Pagnol. In actuality though it's neither and the true Marcel is the author Marcel Proust, evoked here not just in the quote that precedes the film but also in the narrative's basis in long forgotten memories, brought back by tea and madeleines just as they were for the protagonist of Proust's monumental À la recherche du temps perdu. The character who provides this service is even named after him. As it turns out though the name is used in the literal sense as the moniker used by the father of the lead character, Paul, during his time as a wrestler cum interpretative dancer. Early on a cracking dream sequence shows the man strutting down a sidewalk like John Travolta, only the back of his body visible, his chosen identity scrawled across his jacket with rhinestones. Soon we become aware that he's being seen through the eyes of an infant Paul, following behind in his pushchair, his mother at the controls. Attila is greeted and accepted as a friend by hippies, punks, Fonzie-style rockers and grocers alike, an obvious counterpoint to Paul's life as a bored, possibly obsessive outsider, struck mute after witnessing and repressing the apparent demise of his parents, forced to become a pianist by his monstrous, identikit aunts and merely tolerated by practically everyone else. When Attila turns to his son just as he's about to say his first word however his mouth opens in a piercing, train-brake like scream. All it seems is not well, but then it wouldn't be as Paul is a figurative Alice In Wonderland, trapped in a world he can barely navigate or comprehend and desperately trying to unravel what has led him to that point via hallucinogenic tea administered in a forest within a building that he's been led to by a white-clad man he can't quite keep up with. When he provides the music for the dance classes his aunts teach partners are repeatedly changed depending on the whims of an irration host. His aunts are Tweedledum and Tweedledee. During his adventures Paul is assisted by a variety of eccentric and bizarre characters including a huge but gentle deaf dog, a blind piano tuner (who in one hilarious scene tightens the metal rail of a stairwell he has tapped because he's displeased with its sound) and a doctor who would rather be a taxidermist (the results of his experiments recall the living playing cards, given no choice but to accept their altered appearance) until finally he is judged at a competitive trial to decide the Young Soloist of the Year. And like all great fairytales there's also a good share of darkness, of death, disease and sunlight blocked out by the lid of a grand piano, of people and body parts ironically destroyed by the thing they love or loathe the most. Visually the film is most reminiscent of the melancholic whimsy of Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro but there are still strong traces of Chomet's animation in a series of stunning set-pieces such as vast gardens created within rooms, eyes with pupils that flicker in time to the lullaby of a music box and the jazz band of frogs that appear now and again (substitutes for the Mock Turtle perhaps). Brilliantly playing Paul is Guillaume Gouix in a role that eschews speech altogether and forces him to use only his movements and expressions but also notable are veteran actresses Anne Le Ny and the late Bernadette Lafont (formidable yet loving as one of Paul's aunts), who a sweet post credits scene memorialises. The gaps between Chomet's films are often lengthy, perhaps due to their detail, but if he means to continue in this vein his next film can't come soon enough. An unrelenting delight.
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