Review: My Life as a Courgette
Claude Barras’ first big screen effort is a stop-motion wonder
Claude Barras’ My Life as a Courgette, his debut feature, is a film that explores the resilience of children. It is about kids getting caught up in the messy affairs of adult life. It is about the retention of innocence when it could easily have been ripped away entirely. It also happens to be a masterpiece.
The most noticeable thing about My Life as a Courgette is of course that it is a stop-motion animation feature, ostensibly aimed at children. Don’t let that dissuade you though and don’t be fooled by the bright primary colour palette. While it will certainly appeal to kids, this is a film for all ages. I saw the film in a screening at The Watershed in Bristol (a wonderful cinema, I urge you to go if you’re in the area) and I was the youngest person there. Despite that, I doubt there was a dry eye in the room once the film reached its emotional conclusion.
We follow Courgette, a young boy whose father has left him and whose mother spends her time drinking and shouting at the television. Courgette plays alone in his attic bedroom, the walls adorned with drawings of his Super-Dad fighting dragons and flying through the sky. Courgette’s main companion is a kite on which he has drawn a picture of Super-Dad. Courgette collects his mother’s empties to use as building blocks. When Courgette’s mother suffers an accident leading to her death, he is taken to an orphanage for other unfortunate children. This is all set up almost wordlessly within five minutes of the film opening. The economy of storytelling on show throughout the picture is remarkable. We know Courgette’s father has left and not passed away as we see a family photo from which his picture has been torn out. Courgette’s real name is Icare. When Raymond, the police officer who takes Courgette to the orphanage, uses this name, Courgette protests and we, along with Raymond, immediately understand. “Did your mum give you that name?” Raymond asks. The name and one empty beer can is all Courgette has left of his mother. Here is a child left behind by the world. The film focuses on Courgette’s time at the orphanage as he gets to know the other charges. As described by Simon, the orphanage’s bully, the children are “all the same. There’s no one left to love us.”
Although wildly different in style, any accomplished animated work that has an appeal for adults will always be compared to the output of that most famous of animated studios, Pixar. And My Life as a Courgette more than holds its own in these comparisons. Probably the most apt comparison would be to 2015’s Inside Out, another film with a strong focus on the psychology of children. The approach Barras takes, however, is completely opposed to the approach Pete Doctor and Ronnie Del Carmen took with Inside Out. In true Pixar fashion, Inside Out lends some focus to important real-world issues — psychological development, preteen depression and the impact adult decisions have on children. However, also in true Pixar fashion, these themes are explored through extended use of metaphor. While Inside Out is certainly a fantastic film, this lens can have its limitations. My Life as a Courgette employs almost no metaphor throughout its swift 66-minute run-time and as a result is able to get further into the heart of these matters than would otherwise be possible. That’s not to say the film isn’t funny, though, it is. But Barrras chooses to present the heartbreaking lives of these children with stark clarity. The genius is that he manages to do so with very little sentimentality, but still elicits a major emotional response. At no point is an emotional point hammered home; everything is merely presented as it is and yet, never fails to land.
This is likely due to the strength of characterization on show. As the film progresses we get to know each of the children in the orphanage very well and each feels real. Again, Barras employs masterful restraint here. Simon, the aforementioned bully of the group, has abandonment issues. He pushes others away so that he won’t have to deal with his feelings when they inevitably leave him. He is also afraid of the dark. Of course, he wouldn’t admit this to anyone, so instead he stays awake under the pretense of harassing the other children with the torch he always carries with him in bed. We notice that Simon has dark bags around his eyes — he is unable to sleep. None of this is explicitly stated or shown in the film, but Barras does such a wonderful job of creating these characters that by the end of the film we feel we know them as real people. Barras also manages to walk the fine line between impactful and gratuitous with aplomb. We are told the other children’s situations, which range from drug-addicted parents to deported immigrants, with clear explanations. When it comes to Alice though, “apparently her dad is a real creep”, we’re told. “He’s in prison now.” Barras has just the deft touch required to takes us to the edge of this pit, the very precipice of human monstrosity, but never does he push us in. He is in a minefield and tactfully navigates it to present an affecting, but always tasteful, picture. This is a balance that is truly hard to achieve, and for a first-time filmmaker to get it this right is astounding.
For all the credit Barras deserves, the rest of cast are also worthy of such praise. My Life as Courgette is beautiful. A highly stylized claymation feature, each frame is like a beautiful diorama. A heavy emphasis on bright, primary colours is symbolically apt. Just as the film retains its brightness amidst these sad stories, so too do the children retain their joy and some element of innocence despite the world trying its best to tear it from them. A delightfully funny conversation about how sex works reminds us that these are in fact children, naive and blameless in their situation. As you get to know each one, your heart breaks for them.
If there is a complaint to be had with the film, it’s perhaps that it isn’t particularly cinematic. While each frame is beautifully rendered, the photography and general mise-en-scène feels more like that of a television short that of a motion picture. That the film is a only little over an hour excuses this slightly, and certainly neither the short run-time nor the lack of a cinematic direction keep the film from finding an emotional core and providing a rich and thoroughly engaging experience. Claude Barras has introduced himself as a wonderful talent, however, and it will be interesting to see if his next big screen effort embraces the form slightly more completely.
This is a tiny complaint, though, and pales in comparison to just how wonderful this film really is. Take your kids, take your parents, take your partners or your friends or even go alone. Just get out and see this gem. It might just be your new favourite animated film.
