[yasr_overall_rating]
A little boy goes on an adventurous quest in search of his father.
Inexplicably – though deservedly – nominated for a Best Animated Feature Academy Award three years after its original 2013 release, Alê Abreu’s visual feast aims high – for the grandiose, epic scope of Hermann Hesse’s “Siddhartha,” no less. While it never quite reaches those heights (and who could?), its protagonist, Merino, does become wise, and even finds his own personal Eden towards the end. Until that sublime moment occurs, we are treated to a true spectacle, a lyrical coming-of-age story, told wordlessly, its sensational imagery speaking volumes about growing up and coming to terms with humanity and all its sins.
In the beginning, little Merino’s world is pure and white, ripe for filler. As the boy discovers it, traces and brushes of color punctuate the screen, until it’s filled with them, and joyful music erupts, emphasizing his excitement with every note and hue. He runs up horses and trees and clouds, looking down upon the real world from his fantasy land. A dark breeze eventually blows him back to earth, and reality settles in: his father leaves him alone with his mother, playing a few sorrowful notes on his flute (one of which the boy manages to capture) before a train takes him away into the whiteness.
When a strange man replaces him, Merino embarks on a quest to find his dad. On the way, he gets a ride in an old cotton picker’s carriage and encounters his tyrannical cowboy boss; he floats in a balloon through a fleeting parade; he barely survives the tidal waves of a dark-emerald storm; he witnesses the drone-like existence of a textile factory; and, finally, he ends up in the Big City.
Chaotic, oppressive and hostile, the City’s staircases, vehicles, buildings, cables and roads are jumbled together, all jagged edges and spikes. The mechanical factories and gloomy ship harbors overwhelm the boy, but with the help of a bicyclist/street performer, he sees the bright side of humanity. His adventure starts with the search for his father and ends with (spoiler alert!) a grown-up Merino finding himself.
Society in this world exists in a Gestapo-like regime, taken over by corporations, machine-like factory workers doing the same perpetual tasks for the Man. As the boy leaves his innocence behind, he realizes that yes, life is vibrant and mysterious, but also unforgiving, cruel, a juxtaposition of geometrically-structured factories and blazing celebrations, of low and high classes, of compassion and callousness. We all grow up; the film is a reminder to embrace our childlike wonder, and see the world through a kaleidoscope sometimes.
Simplicity is key here, and “Boy”’s lively animation – sometimes detailed, sometimes crayon-like, abstract – reminded me a bit of Don Herztfeldt’s approach. With just a few strokes, moments shine, like a music note, caught in a red jar; or a reflection of a bucket, dropping into a well; or a guileless swim through a heap of cotton. As the film progresses, those moments gain texture: a brown splotch of people stuffed into a bus, carrying them down into a labyrinthine city; a devastating destruction of a vibrant bird by tanks and an evil black crow…
If I had to pinpoint a niggle, it’s that the messages of industrialization are laid on a bit too thick at times, such as when the film jarringly switches to real-life footage of construction factories, melting icebergs, and Amazonian rain forests being chopped down – a bold move, mind you, but an unnecessary one. By that point, we already got the point.
“Boy & the World” may be a bit too experimental and dark and cerebral for young kids, but adults and animation purists will marvel at its ambition and scope, created with the most basic of techniques. A Brazilian “Triplets of Belleville,” Alê Abreu’s feature is by turns touching, darkly moody, dazzling to the eye and, most importantly, thoroughly – and wordlessly – engaging throughout. I urge you to discover this boy’s world.
Opens at the Angelika Film Centers in Dallas & Plano, Friday, February 12th
