Every artist has their particular niche in which they excel, and there are a few exceptional cases of those who are also able to do well in other media, which is a testament to their skills. However, very rarely do we find those who are able to thrive in every conceivable medium in which they attempt to work, and when we do, it isn’t easy to celebrate them as the very definition of artistic ambition and integrity. The name Marcel Pagnol immediately evokes the image of elegance, complexity and incredible artistry, which is why he remains arguably the most important French writer of the 20th century, or at least one that continues to be celebrated for his contributions to every medium in which he worked. As comfortable writing for the stage as he was directing cinema, and equally as competent when crafting unforgettable depictions of French society as he was developing his own memoirs, Pagnol has always been considered a vital voice in European writing, to the point where he is considered one of the most egregious oversights for the Nobel Prize for Literature, an award designed for people who possessed his incredible amount of audacity and talent. However, his legacy extends far beyond awards or formal recognition, since his work speaks for itself – and we can see this through A Magnificent Life (French: Marcel et Monsieur Pagnol), the most recent outing by celebrated animator and innovator of the medium Sylvain  Chomet, who picks up the pencil to craft an animated work for the first time in fifteen years, following his astonishing The Illusionist (and his ambitious but divisive live-action debut Atilla Marcel), to adapt the first volume of Pagnol’s sprawling autobiography, which covers his childhood and early years, following him as he goes from starving artist setting off from his comfortable home in Marseilles for Paris, to one of France’s most beloved artists, and a defining figure of his generation. A beautiful, poetic ode to a writer who has made an enormous difference in global literature through his active attempts to redefine how we look at art and the world that surrounds us, this film is an absolute triumph, and a firm reminder of not only Pagnol’s wonderful work, but his truly extraordinary life.

The foundation on which A Magnificent Life is built is from Chomet’s interest in adapting Pagnol’s memoirs, but in a way that is unique and doesn’t resort to the same trite conventions we usually find in the majority of biographical films about revered artists. To do this, he establishes a very clear framing narrative around which the film is constructed – it begins with Pagnol at the height of his fame (although where he still had trouble populating theatres with his newer works, which is less of a sign of his supposed irrelevance, and more the nature of how audiences in the 1950s perceived theatre as opposed to cinema), showing the immediate aftermath of him being commissioned to write a serialised memoir, an endeavour that his publishers believe will be irresistible to the readers who have fawned over his work in the past. However, the major deviation from the traditional cradle-to-grave biopic structure is the addition of the younger Marcel, who appears as a friendly spectre to his older counterpart, a voice of reason that not only motivates Pagnol to put pen to paper but also serves as his starry-eyed guide through the past, which initiates the central narrative device. The result is a film that has a dual narrative flow, showing the older Pagnol perched in his study reflecting on his past in dialogue with his younger version, who catalyses this gentle, poignant stroll through the past. This not only shapes the book being written within the film, but gives A Magnificent Life some structure, the blurring between both the past and present (as well as the future, which is the space in between Pagnol’s death in 1974 and the years that have followed until this precise moment in which the viewer witnesses the story for themselves), which contribute to the core themes of memory (which is positioned as a creative force more than a series of static recollections), how the innocence of childhood can influence an artist’s later works and the poetic celebration of certain places and the people who occupy these spaces that played such a vital role in understanding Pagnol’s unique artistic vision.

A Magnificent Life is a film that doesn’t have too much concern for plot mechanics, and instead decides to construct itself as a rigorous story of how a seemingly ordinary life can become the foundation for a thrilling, aspirational story of creativity, one in which memory interweaves with imagination in the formation of a generational artist. Chomet has always made use of a very precise stylistic sensibility, with his unique hand drawn animation (consisting of elongated figures, expressive faces and extraordinarily warm colour palettes, as well as an exceptional attention to detail) works perfectly in bringing Pagnol’s story to life, especially since it is so starkly different to his own aesthetic that it becomes unexpectedly quite intriguing as a contrast. Whether drawing on the bold contrasts reflected in the story (Marseilles being presented as a bright, warm place as opposed to the darker and more challenging Paris), or simply allowing the director to luxuriate in this world, embracing the fluidity possible when working in the realm of animation, it is very much built around Chomet’s visual language, while still being adapted for Pagnol’s distinct world, creating a fascinating dynamic between these two idiosyncratic artists. Chomet’s films always feel like complex, layered works, where every detail exists for a purpose (rather than just serving as decoration), capturing the endless boundaries of the human imagination, as well as allowing for a more unique approach to the passage of time. Space and time blur together beautifully, and Chomet can say so much with very little, which places focus on the story in places where we’d normally expect to find more bombastic demonstrations of skill. Some of the metaphors may veer towards the obvious and slightly heavy-handed, but they do still play a part in underlining the film’s focus on creativity and how experiences intermingling with imagination can create unforgettable images that perfectly encapsulate everything that made Pagnol’s life so beautiful and intriguing, as well as intellectually stimulating in truly extraordinary ways.

The animation is not the only place in which we find A Magnificent Life thriving – it isn’t enough to just tell us that Pagnol is a unique artistic voice; it needs to reflect this in every possible way. The reflective, unhuried pace of the film fits the structure of a memoir far better than we would expect – the conversations between Pagnol at various ages allows the film to find the perfect balance between whimsy and melancholy, which is not only a common trait in Chomet’s previous films, but also the author’s own writing, which are the very definition of genre-bending examinations of the human condition. The tone is intimate and poetic, and while there are some moments that do veer towards the sentimental, it is all for a very specific kind of nostalgia that never feels overwrought. Chomet does have the challenge of taking a story that is very literary and lyrical and turning it into something more dynamic and three-dimensional, since a more obvious approach would have leaned too heavily into the saccharine emotions. Some of the avenues in which we encounter these ideas are quite ingenious – consider the voice acting, with Laurent Lafitte’s measured and reflective vocal performance as the adult Pagnol evoking a sense of wisdom that is beautifully contrasted with the younger version, voice by Thao Maerten, who brings an innate sense of curiosity and energy to the film – and the emotional connection formed between these two performances is extraordinary, playing into the underlying dynamic between the past and present that ultimately define the film. This is accompanied by the score, which works hand-in-hand with the visual component to create a poetic depiction of discovery and curiosity, and the very simple, direct sound design that transports us back into the early 20th century, where we are witnesses to Pagnol’s fascinating journey. This is all in service of Chomet’s overall intention, which is to create a film that isn’t just a didactic retelling of Pagnol’s life, but a multilayered melody of memories, formed from its quiet sincerity, overtaking any attempt at melodrama, where every decision is done to pay tribute to the subtle, nuanced approach that earns the film its unimpeachable charm.

It should be said that A Magnificent Life is a film that works better if the viewer is at least somewhat familiar with Pagnol – a working knowledge of his work is not necessary, but it is still much more effective if his reputation as one of the most important French artists to emerge from the 20th century is known before stepping into this world. This is primarily because Chomet is approaching his work from a more intimate place – this isn’t a film that is going to easily spell out his influence over the culture beyond his own reflections (which Chomet considerably downplays to not make it just about his legacy, but also his creative process), so it is more of a tribute than an introduction. However, it does impel the viewer – whether familiar with his work or not – to see out his films and plays, with the brief glimpses into his films that we receive (all of which are clipped directly from the existing works, rather than being animated for this film, creating an even more interesting dynamic between the actual work and Chomet’s interpretation) being firm reminders of his exceptional artistry. Adapting a memoir to the screen is always a challenge, and Chomet not only has the burden to pay sufficient tribute to Pagnol, but to do so in the animated form, which is not an easy feat. Communicating such rich, vivid emotions through hand-drawn animation is an incredible achievement, and the results are warm, elegant and compelling from start to finish. It would not be unlikely to find this film spurring a renewed interest in Pagnol’s work – he has never been irrelevant, but the whimsical, bold approach will certainly revitalise interest for younger generations, who can hopefully see beyond his reputation as some remnant of the past, and instead embrace him as this dynamic, daring writer who set the foundation for much of European literature through his work across every conceivable medium. It increases our appreciation for his works, as well as clarifying why he is considered such an essential figure – and by the end, we find that Chomet has given us a powerful story of the importance of embracing creativity, showing that it takes true courage to tell one’s story, which is always worth our time.