Small in stature, big in heart.

Renaissance feels like a rather hyperbolic term to throw around at a whim but, with animation’s recent resurgence now in full affect, that’s precisely where we stand. Times, however, have not always been so kind to the medium. Deeply traditional its heart, animation’s steadfast determination to continue putting pen to paper caused the industry to stall in its attempts to keep up with rapidly advancing technology and a continually shifting audience dynamic.

As studios like Disney stuttered in moving with the times, young upstart companies such as Pixar took full advantage and took the risks necessary to thrive in such a transitional time. This animation shakeup didn’t go unnoticed however, as the old guard slowly but surely began to up their game to compete. But, while the wild advancements in animation style would inevitably grab the headlines, studios like Pixar were able to transcend their form by place writing, story, and character on equal, if not higher, footing with the technology from which they are born.

Whether it’s CGI, stop-motion, or hand-drawn; advances in technology have widened animations scope and availability enormously, inspiring an entire generation to step forward to tell their own tales, completely apart from the traditional Hollywood studios. The upswing in quality animation currently available from across the world is now at unprecedented levels and, as if to emphasise this, the Best Animated Feature category at the Academy Awards looks as healthy as it’s ever been.

It’s certainly boomtown in the world of animation and, despite the inevitable surge of unscrupulous prospecting studios flooding the market with inferior cash grabs, many have used this new-found accessibility as a force for good. Exciting times await us and, with animation currently fertile ground for powerful storytelling, the medium has been taken well beyond the realms of the school holiday crowd. With a deceptively quirky title, idiosyncratic style, and lively colour palate; My Life as a Courgette may exude a charming, childish appearance but this belies a film of subtlety, sorrow, and refreshing depth.

After the sudden death of his mother, Icare (nicknamed Courgette) is befriended by police officer Raymond, who accompanies him to his new foster home. Surrounded by other orphans with similar scars to his own, Courgette initially struggles to find his place within this strange and seemingly hostile environment. Yet, with the help of his teachers and new-found friends, Courgette is gradually coaxed out of his shell; learning to live, love, and trust once again.

My Life as a Courgette’s particular brand of lo-fi stop-motion may appear simplistic at first glance but, much like the world of Aardman, there’s an inherent vulnerability and delicacy to it that’s able to radiate charm from even the simplest of character movements, perfectly capturing the fragility and innocence of the film’s young cast as it goes. At its best, Pixar’s innovative visual splendour can be utterly awe-inspiring but, while their ultra-modern, computer-generated style works to smooth a character’s rough edges, My Life as a Courgette openly embraces them. Like its young protagonists, the film’s animation can be awkward and imperfect, but that’s the point entirely.

While it may bear more than a passing resemblance to Coraline and Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride, My Life as a Courgette is a far trickier concept to pin down. As a bankable piece of entertainment, it lacks the central hook necessary to make it an easy sell for a family audience and, for all its merits, My Life as a Courgette’s clear lack of wider appeal holds the film back from true animated greatness.

Claude Barras, however, appears completely unfazed by his film’s lack of wide appeal, clearly knowing what his film is and the role it’s been created to play. In an era that demands loud, primary-coloured, and easily consumable spectacle in its animation; My Life as a Courgette’s narrative simplicity and steadfast refusal to shoehorn in any easily sellable, yet wholly unnecessary, fantastical elements, is very admirable indeed.

Though punctuated with intimate moments of understated joy, the film bears a melancholy disposition that’s perfectly epitomised in Sophie Hunger’s sparse, wistful score; which drifts in and out of scenes with a reserved tenderness rarely heard in modern animation. In a world filled to bursting point with attention-starved nuggets of entertainment, all battling for our attention on a daily basis, studios have become quite understandably terrified of losing the eyes and ears of a young audience. As a by-product of this, quiet moments of reflection are a rare occurrence in animated films, but in My Life as a Courgette, Barras shows his mettle by deploying the film’s soundtrack carefully and sparingly, with delicate strings and quietly jangling guitars woven through scenes with a wonderful lightness of touch. Reminiscent of the opening scenes of Wall-E, the film’s reflective ambiance helps build something both warm and incredibly affectionate.

Connection is everything in My Life as a Courgette, which wastes no time in separating its protagonist from his only real emotional link, before working slowly but surely to reconnect him to the world of love and friendship. As Courgette quietly reconciles himself with the loss of his mother, his current situation, and the new connections now afforded to him; the My Life as a Courgette’s lack of high-octane entertainment becomes completely irrelevant, as the film works to engage emotional areas that few animations dare.

The tentative relationships built, not only between the children of the foster home, but between the film’s various adults and the children in their care, is absolutely heart-rending and it’s in the overtly low-key, grounded nature of these interactions that the film packs its biggest emotional punch. It’s a slow process, but to witness this group of characters gradually build a bond, despite their scars, is enough to make the heart swell and if, by the group photo scene at the end, you’re not getting at least a little glassy-eyed, you’re officially dead inside.

Coming to terms with all these swirling, dark emotions; Courgette’s reconciliation is My Life as a Courgette’s central through line but, perhaps the film’s most affecting story, is that of Camille. As the primary focus of our protagonist’s affections, Camille’s narrative draws an interesting parallel to Courgette’s situation, as the details of her fraught family life unfold in a troubling, but all too familiar, way.

I’m sure many within the fostering sector will attest to just how close-to-the-bone Camille’s situation is and, for an Oscar nominated animation to take such an uncompromising look at abuse and the toll it takes on the most vulnerable in society, is astonishing. Although it hardly sounds like a recipe for box office gold, My Life as a Courgette’s ultimate success lies in just how emotionally resonant it’s able to be amidst all the darkness and how surprisingly digestible such difficult subject matter is made, even to the youngest of audience members.

It’s overtly quirky title fails to do the film justice and, while My Life as a Courgette never shies away from animation’s inherent levity, beneath its idiosyncratic façade lies something far darker. It’s not every day that a mainstream animation comes along, willing to touch on such overtly adult subjects as abuse, loss, anxiety, and loneliness; especially when you consider that the majority of its characters are children. But, while My Life as a Courgette’s subject matter is all rather heavy-going, Claude Barras is able to balance the heft of the film’s subject matter with a light-hearted, childlike tone that never allows it sink under the weight.

Although the influences from animation powerhouses Pixar, Studio Ghibli, and Laika are there for all to see; My Life as a Courgette manages to find a voice all of its own. The charming and childlike style, melancholy score, and dark but innocent tone all combine to produce a refreshingly honest and incredibly charming take on adolescence, fear, and loneliness. While the overtly sombre tone and weighty subject matter may potentially overwhelm very young audience members, My Life as a Courgette makes sure to approach them in such a beautifully simple way that cross-generational appeal shouldn’t be a problem. In utilising a stop-motion technique that fits the story perfectly, director Claude Barras has produced one of the most heart-warming animations of the year and, while the film may sometimes feel slight in stature, like it’s protagonist, My Life as a Courgette is certainly big in heart.