The New Classics: Amélie
I worked at The Ritz art house theaters in Philadelphia when Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Amélie was released in 2001. My location was the smallest in the chain so we’d never get the hotly anticipated indie titles. However, when it came time to program Amélie somebody goofed and decided it would be a good fit for my location. We couldn’t pack the mobs in tight enough. Jeunet’s giddy Parisian carousel sold out screenings for nine months straight. I watched a lot of theaters empty out in my years at the movies, but there was something about the beaming smiles on Amélie’s crowds as they stumbled out of the darkness that stands out in the memory.
Since then the knock against Amélie is not that its highs aren’t real, but that they are sugar highs. Empty calories. Like a five-course meal sculpted entirely from marzipan. I get it. It’s easy to imagine skimming across the surface charms of Jeunet’s Paris like one of Amélie’s skipping stones without ever engaging the intellect. I can only reply that Amélie engages my intellect...