Film Review: Terrific ‘King and the Mockingbird’ mixes old and new animation
Animator Paul Grimault is most famous for his one feature, “The King and the Mockingbird,” arriving in American theaters for the first time this weekend. The film’s reputation is all the more remarkable when you realize that it was started in 1947, released in butchered form after being taken away from the director, and then finished in the late ’70s after a 30-year hiatus. Given its insane history, it should be a mess. But it is, in fact, altogether wonderful.
The screenplay was written by Jacques Prevert — who also penned “Children of Paradise,” perhaps the single most beloved French film of all time — based very loosely on the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale “The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep.” Andersen’s story occupies less than the first third; Prevert and Grimault use it as a launching pad to fill the screen with striking images. They also add chase sequences, a great deal of humor, and a much happier ending.
After the opening credits — accompanied by a solo piano melody that sounds like the slow part of “Stairway to Heaven” — we meet the Bird (voice of Jean Martin), who addresses the audience as a sort of MC or narrator. He explains that the land of Takicardia is ruled by the autocratic, self-absorbed “King Charles V plus III making VIII plus VIII making XVI.” The King — who looks a bit like a playing card — fancies himself a great hunter, despite the fact that his extremely crossed eyes prevent him from ever actually hitting his prey. His minions, knowing how sensitive he is about his eyes, fake the results to gratify him; and all his royal portrait artists know to make his eyes look normal.
Unfortunately, the one bird the King did manage to hit with a lucky shot was the wife of our MC, who is not a bird to be trifled with. He responds bitterly to the euphemism “hunting accident” on her gravestone.
At night, while the King sleeps, the paintings in his “secret apartment” on the 296th floor of the castle come to life. The Charming Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep, hanging next to each other, are in love and plan to run off together. But one of the King’s portraits also desires the Shepherdess, enough that he too leaves his frame to pursue her. He also dispenses with the original King and takes his place.
The young couple are repeatedly rescued by the Bird, who wants to stick it to the King any way he can. The lovers discover both extremes of the real world: the beauty of the sky and the misery of the lower classes, who live literally underground and have never seen the sun.
The film’s visual design is magnificent — a blend of futurism and retro, as though the city in Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis” were full of traditional European castles, but with next-century engineering. The long walls and corridors invoke Giorgio de Chirico’s strange perspectives. And Grimault seems to have been influenced by a wide range of animators. The King’s aides have the sort of jowls we see in ’30s Warner Bros. cartoons, while the young lovers have a shimmering rotoscoped look.
Some of the stylistic contrasts are a result of the film’s troubled history. Even though Grimault reassembled as much of his ’40s team as he could and decided to make the movie as he always envisioned, more modern influences are easy to find. The blending of old and new is rarely discernible, unless you’re specifically looking for it.
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ANDY KLEIN is the film critic for Marquee. He can also be heard on “FilmWeek” on KPCC-FM (89.3).