Some stories exist to teach a lesson, others to communicate a specific message. The kind that I find is often the most surprising, but yet oddly the one we see only sporadically, are those which set out to just capture emotions more than reaching a specific narrative point. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of striking the right balance between tone, style and imagination to make something truly impressive. This sentiment can be used to describe Little Amélie or the Character of Rain, a film based on the novel Métaphysique des tubes by Amélie Nothomb, which has now been adapted to screen by Maïlys Vallade and Liane-Cho Han in their directorial debuts. The story follows Amélie, who was born in Japan to Belgian parents who moved there as part of her father’s work duties. Initially born without the ability to move or speak, a sudden event just before her third birthday somehow allowed Amélie to develop these skills almost overnight. To help care for their newly-ambulatory and verbal young daughter, her parents hire Nishio-san, a well-meaning nanny who commits wholeheartedly to helping bring up Amélie and her siblings, the pair forming a very special bond, one that both of them knew is only temporary, as their relationship (as organic as it may be) is only the result of a business transaction, despite the deep connection they form over the months that they spend together. A simple film that has a sense of heartfulness and sincerity that massively eclipses its relatively brief running time, Little Amélie or the Character of Rain is a poignant achievement, a well-crafted, deeply moving examination of the human condition, as seen through the eyes of a young individual who is on her way to understanding the world that surrounds her, which proves to be a far more challenging endeavour than she could have ever imagined to be possible. A poignant film that is both life-assuring and deeply heartbreaking in equal measure, it captures the spirit of childhood and the challenges that come with growing up better than many recent works that tackle similar subjects with far less tact or nuance.

There are many different themes that we can find populating Little Amélie or the Character of Rain, but only three persist as the core that drives the story. The first is the most obvious – this is a film about family, which it presents not as a fixed unit, nor entirely adherent to any idealistic version, but rather as something emotionally complex. The titular character experiences the ebb and flow of a family that can be close at one moment, then slightly distant in another, particularly her parents, who are certainly loving figures, but who aren’t ever able to enter their daughter’s inner world – and when viewed through the perspective of a young child, it can be quite daunting to process. The film addresses this emotional gap in a way that reinforces the idea that familial love does not always equate to emotional understanding, especially when there are generational and cultural divides between people. The family in this film is viewed as a foundational presence, the one constant in the young protagonist’s life, the backdrop against which her emotional awakening begins to unfold. This is directly complemented by the second core theme, which is that of culture – Little Amélie or the Character of Rain is about a Belgian family living in Japan, two entirely different cultures that somehow blend beautifully in this film, never being reduced to stereotypes at any point. There’s a tendency for films set in other countries to present them through an exoticised filter, but this film chooses instead to present this environment as a complex, lived-in world in which every sound, texture and image carries meaning, as where ritual overlaps with routine to create a poignant depiction of this culture and its people. It’s not a culture clash story, but it shows small movements and tensions that the protagonist desperately attempts to interpret. Finally, the third theme ties the previous two together, which is that of unexpected connection. Amélie and Nishio-san form an unexpected bond that becomes the emotional core of the film, an organic connection rooted in care, patience and a shared presence. The film does acknowledge the transactional nature of their relationship, while never neglecting to highlight the true affection they develop, despite all the obstacles that stand before them.

The driving force behind Little Amélie or the Character of Rain is the emotions, which are handled with remarkable restraint and delicacy, each moment being allowed to breathe on its own, developing at a unique pace rather than being subjected to the same forced sentimentality that we often find populating these stories. This is a tale of a young girl developing an understanding of the world that surrounds her, and we see it depicted in fragments, momentary bursts of joy, fear, confusion and wonder, all of which come together to create her ongoing journey of self-discovery, which informs most of the film. The film proposes its theory that we experience certain emotions before being able to name them, which adds layers of complexity to our development – can we feel something without knowing what it is? There is a lot of metaphor used throughout this film, and while some of it may be purely for the sake of progressing the plot (such as the sudden acquisition of movement and speech that the protagonist finds herself experiencing), it also serves to show the emotional and existential awakening she is undergoing throughout the film. It’s an effervescent, charming film built from joy more than anything else – but like any emotion, this is only temporary, and for a character like Amélie, it can lead to some enormous questions of identity and her place in a world she truly does not understand yet. The quiet moments of heartbreak are contrasted with sequences defined by warmth and a sense of security, giving this film an additional layer of emotional contrast. Loss is a subject that this film frequently visits, and rather than exploring it as a single traumatic event, it is instead shown as a gradual realisation that nothing in life can ever remain unchanged – in fact, it’s in this transition that some of the most beautiful moments can be found. It manages to touch on all of these ideas without becoming heavy-handed, with every ounce of nostalgia and sentimentality feeling entirely earned, and proving that this film was not merely an indulgence, but rather a melancholic examination of the passage of time, the emotional resonance lingering throughout as a result of the film refused to give us the easy resolution that we crave.

Little Amélie or the Character of Rain truly is a beautifully-made film – the animation is deliberately quite gentle and understated, mirroring the emotional nuances and subtle nature of this story, with a soft visual palette reflecting the restrained nature of this narrative, especially in the use of muted colours to evoke memories rather than adhering strictly to realism. The character designs are simple yet so extraordinarily expressive, which makes a big difference considering how much of this story hinges on body language and facial expressions to communicate most of its ideas. Every aspect of this film carries emotional relevance, and as a coming-of-age story, the directors capture the titular character’s unique point of view with such incredible sensitivity and nuance, reminding us of the experience of growing up in a confusing world that seems so much bigger than it is in reality. A beautifully imaginative work that is teeming with emotional intensity, all of which is visualised through subtle and nuanced cues, and featuring fluid motions that pair perfectly with the dynamic visual state, it becomes quite clear that this film is a remarkable achievement in both style and content. All of this speaks to the core themes – showing the journey of a young child from ignorance to experience, reinforcing the intimacy that is often so vital in these earlier years, and not being afraid to be vulnerable where required. It’s an emotionally complex work, one that shows a child navigating a world she does not yet understand, with the help of someone who dedicates every moment she can to helping make the environment seem more welcoming. Unfortunately, the weighty nature of the story and the message it communicates – sometimes the most meaningful relationships are those which are not meant to last – but just because the physical time together may be temporary, the emotions persist for as long as we allow ourselves to feel them. There is a lot of ambiguity in this film, but the directors trust us enough to sit with these moments, realising everything that simmers beneath the core and helping us understand precisely what it is that makes for such a powerful, poignant examination of childhood.