Movie Review: Little Amélie or the Character of Rain

I have a soft spot for movies that are rife with imagery highlighting the beauty of the world around us, and animation as an art form is especially well-suited for this. With a striking art style and narration that combines sweet innocence with deeper, metaphysical wisdom, Little Amélie or the Character of Rain is a sparkling example of such a film, at times recalling the magic of 2001’s similarly titled Amélie, though with a voice very much its own.

Born in Japan to Belgian parents, Amélie (Loïse Charpentier) first experiences the world as if she is God at the Creation, a striking metaphor inspired by Japanese cultural beliefs that works beautifully. A difficult baby, she inspires her parents to reach out to her paternal grandmother (Cathy Cerdà) for help and ultimately hire a nanny, Nishio-san (Victoria Grosbois).

Her grandmother quickly shifts Amélie’s mood, bringing out the joyous little girl that had been hiding inside of her, as grandparents often do, and after she leaves Nishio-san helps her to explore her innate curiosity. From then on, we watch through her eyes as she explores her little corner of Earth, getting to encounter the beauty of nature for the first time leading up to her third birthday, when tragic events force her to also reckon with the sadness that comes with being alive.

Mature and moving, directors Maïlys Vallade and Liane-Cho Han, along with their co-writers Aude Py and Eddine Noël, have taken Amélie Nothomb’s short novel The Character of Rain and created an unforgettably lovely look at what it’s like to be a very young child just learning to take their first steps, both literally and figuratively. Amélie’s personality shines, capturing the swirl of emotions that accompany youth as we struggle to ascertain how the world works and where we fit in it. Of course, as in real life, this story isn’t all wonder and love. Darkness is ever present here and death makes itself felt, as do loneliness, racism, suicidal thoughts, and the lingering traumas of war. None are explicit but that doesn’t remove their power to devastate the viewer.

The meditative pacing may turn off some kids, and the more serious material might be too much for others, but many will be delighted, as will any adults with a sentimental streak. There is genuine magic in these frames that will spill out into your daily life and have you looking at your surroundings with fresh eyes. Accompanied by Mari Fukuhara’s gorgeous, piano-driven score,Little Amélie is a movie that will keep many viewers at least wistfully misty-eyed throughout and is certain to elicit stronger tearful outbursts of both joy and sorrow at key moments (the beach!). A melancholy masterpiece that some of us, myself included, will treasure forever. ★★★★★