An animated film about Asperger syndrome, depression, child neglect and alcoholism? What's next -- a long-lost Sylvia Plath poem about adorable wise-cracking animals?
Yet as misguided and mystifying as it may sound at first, the Australian claymated Mary and Max turns out to be a hugely pleasurable and moving surprise.
The movie opened this year's Sundance Film Festival (a first for an animated production), and while it's too dark and adult-themed for youngsters, it warrants a mention among 2009's most memorable films, regardless of the medium. The lack of broad family appeal will limit its popularity, but that shouldn't keep discriminating moviegoers from seeking it out.
Director Adam Elliot -- who won an Academy Award for his 2003 short Harvie Krumpet -- hinges his debut feature on the unlikely, poignant friendship between a pair of eccentrics in dire need of a human connection.
Bright but dweeby Mary (voiced by Bethany Whitmore at first, then Toni Collette) is a young girl living in Australia, ground down each day by horrible parents and cruel schoolmates. One day she finds a New York phone book and decides to write a letter to a random stranger listed within its voluminous pages. That stranger is Max (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a neurotic overweight misfit who doesn't have a friend in the world. Until Mary, that is.
The two begin writing each other, becoming pen-pals and long-distance companions through good -- and very bad -- times. Like I said, Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa it's not. What it is, however, is endearing, tender, intelligent and absurdly droll.
If it is at times burdened by the weight of its themes -- in addition to mental illness, there's mortality and general social anxiety -- it never feels morose. And if it sometimes wears its quirkiness like a badge, we never doubt its sincerity. By the conclusion, the emotions it has stirred feel earned.
Like the best filmmaking, it leaves us to contemplate not just the characters, but our own lives and how we relate to the people we have chosen to share them with.
Just as impressive as the storytelling is the painstakingly-rendered stop-motion claymation, which, far starker than Wallace and Gromit, brings Mary and Max's disparate surroundings to tactile life: from the sepia-toned suburbia of Mary's Mount Waverley, to the colour-drained severity of Max's grim, loveless New York City.
At no point is Mary and Max easily categorized or deciphered. Is it meant to be crabby and dour? Or hopeful and life-affirming? The answer is elusive. What's never in question is the skill and soul invested in every frame.
(This film is rated 14-A)
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