As clichéd of an expression as it may be, there are some films that truly define the concept of dynamite coming in small packages. We’ve seen short films produced over the years that manage to be beautiful, poetic and thoroughly entertaining works – but one of them truly shows how valuable time is, in the form of never overstaying its welcome, but still giving the audience an experience like no other. The Red Balloon (French: Le ballon rouge) has a reputation for being one of the finest short-subject films ever produced, a wildly popular little drama that has only grown in esteem over the years. When director Albert Lamorisse set out to make this film, we’d expect he was just putting together a charming film about a boy befriending a balloon (which makes perfect sense in the context of this story), but the result was something else entirely, a profoundly cinematic journey that is as poignant and moving as a film three times its length. Clocking in at 35 minutes, The Red Balloon seems like a small, insignificant diversion – yet, it functions as one of the most incredibly moving pieces of filmmaking from its era, an endearing and complex masterwork that may run for only half an hour, but leaves an impression that few filmmakers have managed to match in the succeeding years. There are many reasons why Lamorisse’s work here is indicative of some of the finest in French cinema, despite the smaller scope of the film, and it all has to do with the seamless balance of heartful storytelling and beautiful filmmaking, which makes for a deeply unforgettable experience that feels a lot larger than the package in which it is delivered.

Lamorisse was a fascinating filmmaker (and curiously, someone whose talents extended beyond the medium, having worked in some fascinating fields outside of filmmaking, most notably being the creator of the wildly popular board game, Risk), and The Red Balloon is certainly his crowning achievement. While most directors set their aims on helming a definitive, groundbreaking classic that shatters boundaries and presents audiences with a historically resonant achievement, Lamorisse had his sights set on something else. Frequently working in the field of short-subject filmmaking, his efforts were more focused on delivering exceptionally special films in the form of smaller pieces, which the viewer can watch in less than an hour, but still feel as if they’ve been taken on a riveting journey. This is the main strength of The Red Balloon – on the surface, it appears to just be a minor achievement, a small and quaint comedy that is executed with very little dialogue, and filmed in a way that is entertaining but inconsequential to the art-form. Yet, as we look deeper, we realize what a revolutionary achievement this film actually is – there are many moments of breathtaking beauty that would not be out of place in any of the iconic “city films” that mainly existed to showcase the beauty of a particular city (and considering this film takes place in Paris, it would certainly fit in, with Lamorisse’s camera capturing Paris as beautifully as ever), as well as quieter sequences where the smallest details tell an abundance of stories, without the director needing to justify it with unnecessary dialogue, since everything we need to know is contained within the unforgettable images that are presented on screen. 

The Red Balloon is a film that exists to give the viewer an extraordinary experience, and even if we find the story itself trivial (despite the fact that there is a lot of heart and emotion that went into its creation), the filmmaking itself is truly impeccable – Lamorisse clearly has a deep, undying admiration for Paris, and in filming this story through the many streets of the city he loves, he manages to showcase a very different side of it. Not the bustling capital city it is often portrayed as, but rather shown as the gorgeous playground for the main character and the myriad of other children we encounter through it, Paris has rarely looked more stunning, since the director frames the city through the impressionable eyes of the optimistic youth, who see it as less of an intimidating metropolis, but more as a space for them to explore. The colour cinematography is absolutely stunning (and vital to the nature of the film, especially in the final breathtaking moments), and with a film of this length, absolutely every shot is essential, with the director ensuring that each frame is curated to tell us something, rather than existing for the sake of filling up space. The exact direction this film is going is made clear very soon, but it never feels predictable in the way that feels tedious – it is refreshingly light and effervescent, and has a heartfulness that is wildly difficult to compare to anything else tangible, since it’s more the product of someone reflecting on their own youth, and putting in the work to represent it on screen in a way that feels genuine, earnest and unforgettable.

There’s a tendency to view short films as afterthoughts, brief excursions into charming subjects that don’t ultimately hold much artistic resonance, almost as if they are cinematic appetizers that remind us of why we enjoy the large productions, rather than being resonant on their own terms. However, as we see throughout The Red Balloon, this could not be further from the truth, as the film is actively engaged in proving how even the smallest productions still carry merit. Lamorisse captures the concept of childhood joy in a way that very few other filmmakers have ever been able to – every emotion is authentic, and the general tone of the film is one that reflects a keen sense of curiosity, without becoming too infantile in its exploration of the world around it. Honestly, The Red Balloon is the kind of film that doesn’t take much effort, but still rewards us with an absolutely delightful, endearing story of childhood fantasy, combining tender drama with hilarious comedy in a way that feels very natural and indicative of the world it is trying to portray. Lamorisse had a wonderfully sensitive touch, and while this may not be the definitive coming-of-age story (by nature of its length), there is still something to be said about it being one of the finest representations of childhood ever put on film. Lovable, beautifully-made and honest in a way that not even the most profound films about the younger generation manages to be, The Red Balloon is just an absolute delight, and a film that keeps reminding us of the value of curiosity, and the merits that come with just celebrating what it means to be alive.