Culture is nothing more than an expanded family history consolidated into historical fact – and there is nothing quite as beautiful as sincere pride in where one comes from. However, life has not always been easy for those who were born into one culture over another, especially when referring to particular moments in the past. In the case of Alain Ughetto, he explores his past through the lens of an investigation into his family’s history – and simply looking at his name, you would be forgiven for a brief moment of confusion, with the stereotypically French first name almost betraying the Italian surname. These ideas are seamlessly woven into the narrative of No Dogs or Italians Allowed (French: Interdit aux clients et aux Italiens), his wonderful and heartfelt animated comedy that leaps into the earliest portions of the 20th century and presents an account of his family history, carefully piecing together their journey from rural Italy to France, where they eventually settled and started their new lives, the possibilities endless and exciting for our protagonists as they undergo this daunting but important endeavour to give themselves a better life and their children a brighter future. Taking its title from signs plastered on doors throughout France, the film explores the social and cultural experiences of a single family over roughly a decade as they set out into the unknown to find a way to survive and build a solid foundation. Ughetto’s work is incredible and concise and armed with a sincere set of skills, he develops No Dogs or Italians Allowed into one of the year’s most extraordinary achievements, the kind of simple but effective film that feels like it has been drawn from a place of genuine curiosity and deep social awareness, taking a simple premise and rendering it as nothing short of astonishing.

The medium of animation was made for directors like Ughetto, who didn’t just view it as a genre or style of filmmaking, but as an artform that could be used to tell the most sincere and meaningful stories. No Dogs or Italians Allowed is a film constructed out of the director’s interest in animation, with all of his previous works being experimental films that push the boundaries of what can be done in the medium. In a career that started in the early 1980s, it is surprising that this is only his fourth directorial effort and his second feature-length film, but as we have come to expect, the more sporadic and elusive a director is, the more passionate they are about their work. In the decade since his previous film, Ughetto crafted this extraordinary work, which is by far one of the most beautiful pieces of animation produced this century. Employing stop-motion animation, which is a divisive style due to both its difficulty to produce and the fact that audiences can sometimes feel unsettled as a result of the uncanny valley being evoked, it takes a lot of work to create a film within this style that is entirely impactful and meaningful, while still being well-constructed. In no uncertain terms, the animation in No Dogs or Italians Allowed is extraordinary, and it could legitimately stake a claim as being one of the greatest examples of the medium in practice – the fluidity of the animation coupled with some of the more abstract ideas used to bring this world to life (such as the use of cardboard to represent houses, and broccoli to represent trees) make this a wickedly entertaining and objectively captivating effort. This was a labour of love for the director, with every detail of the film playing a part in the overall experience of the story, which is put together with such vivacity and genuine care, that we can’t help but be drawn into this story.

While the animation is objectively gorgeous, the reason No Dogs or Italians Allowed feels like such an immense achievement comes in the form of the story, which is divided into two narrative strands, one more complex than the other. At the surface level, we understand that this is a film about culture. The director is drawing from his own culture by exploring the experiences of his grandparents as they moved from Italy to France, by way of the United States, during a moment in the past when several Europeans decided to see prosperity in the country known as the Land of the Free, seeking out the American Dream and its promise of wealth and happiness, something that we now realize was nothing more than a false promise. Ughetto seamlessly weaves together so many broad themes, bringing them together in this captivating account of what it means to be a foreigner trying to find a new home – he employs very gentle, charming humour that is undercut with a sense of genuine melancholy, a kind of sadness that feels authentic, and will likely resonate with viewers who have ever experienced the sense of despair that comes with potentially moving and starting life new – on a personal note, this is something that I am experiencing firsthand at the moment, so this kind of narrative, while quite heartbreaking in some parts, certainly does strike a chord, and I would imagine that it is the same for many viewers who have found themselves in a similar position. Naturally, all of this is just the product of the director’s perspective, which is certainly invaluable and deeply captivating, even if the surrounding film seems overly simplistic and perhaps even quite pedestrian from an external perspective – once we are immersed in the film, we understand its incredible artistry.

This film is certainly not the first to explore the concept of culture shock and the process of finding a new home in another country, but it also never claimed to be the definitive text on the immigrant experience. Instead, it is a deeply personal account of what his ancestors experienced through their efforts to start their life over again. This is the second narrative concept and by far the strongest of the two. It’s incredibly compelling in terms of its emotions, and we find ourselves becoming gleefully lost in the world that this film seems to be constructing for us. The fact that the vast majority of the narrative is delivered through voice-over narration (with Ariane Ascaride, in particular, being a standout, her voice being both soothing and filled with emotion) makes it seem even more poetic, with the intricate details of the story being contained in these intensely personal reflections that the director proudly demonstrates, knowing that they will resonate with viewers since he knows what he experienced was not unique to his family. In the process, Ughetto crafts a film that is as much about family as it is identity – the director himself does factor into the film as a character, albeit in the form of only a hand that appears to tinker with the set, proving that this was not supposed to be a film that gave off the illusion of being realistic but rather serves the purpose of being a story in which he visualizes the memories that his family has been carrying with them for generations, leaving it up to him to tell their story. Ughetto is not a young man, and as a result, most of the characters in this film are likely no longer with us – No Dogs or Italians Allowed is as much an examination of their journey as it is a loving tribute to those who came before him, and it’s in the quieter moments that it makes the most profound impact.

Intensely personal and undeniably beautiful, No Dogs or Italians Allowed is an extraordinary film, a seemingly simple effort that runs at just over an hour and seems quite small, but in reality has a heartfulness and complexity that is bigger than anything that can be contained in a film of this size, which is precisely why it feels like such a major achievement. There is a poetry to this film that propels it forward and makes it such an exquisite piece of cinema – there is always merit in a film not overstaying its welcome, but yet the brevity of this extraordinary piece of cinema is slightly upsetting since we become so invested in the lives of these characters and could easily spend hours with them, which is a credit to not only Ughetto’s extraordinary skills as an animator but his deep sincerity as a storyteller, which emerges in the quietest and most poignant moments of this film. Delicate moving, and exceptionally captivating in a way that we may not always expect, No Dogs or Italians Allowed is one of the most brilliant pieces of animation of the past decade, a profound exploration of family and identity as told through a very personal story by a director who bares his heart and soul for the sake of telling this wonderful story. It is a small film in terms of both scope and viewership, but its sincerity is one of its greatest merits, and we find ourselves consistently moved by what this film represents, which is a poetic and deeply moving examination of several deeper themes. Animation is becoming increasingly more lifeless as technology begins to place the medium in the hands of those who don’t quite understand how to tell these stories, so it is therefore important for us to appreciate the works of true masters like Ughetto, who dedicate every aspect of their lives to telling these stories with precision, honest and a lot of heart, all of which combine to create this strikingly beautiful film.