I walked out of "Amelie" feeling as if I ought to have been riding on a high, that I ought to have fallen in love with it - its colours, its quirky camera angles, its textures, its cuteness, its cleverness. I loved all those aspects of the film, but at the same time, something about it nagged at me.
In my post-movie trance, the streets seemed too silent, the colours too dim, but I drank image after image - a closed window belonging to someone's room, a brick of the footpath that none passes with a second glance, a lamp mounted on a crevice of an age-old building, looking entirely out of place. I was tired and fatigued and the world seemed that little more surreal.
"Amelie" was a little too clever, a little too constructed, a little too smug. I loved it, yes I did, but I might as well have been spoon-fed candy floss, with all the sticky, all-too-sweet sensation you get in your mouth afterwards.
Posted by sniffles at January 05, 2002 12:21 AM