Suffer These Children
You had me at Ron Pearlman.
In 1995’s The City of Lost Children, or La Cité des Enfants Perdus as the film is known in its native France, directors Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet create a fog-soaked fairy tale that will entice even the most xenophobic of casual filmgoers.
Ron Pearlman stars as One, a circus strongman in search of his missing brother, Denree, a tiny tyke with an unquenchable appetite. As he is joined in his quest by a street-wise pre-teen hustler named Miette, One discovers that his sibling is just one of many children being stolen by a cycloptian cult working under a misguided misanthrope named Krank, a evil genus who seeks to steal the dreams of children in order to compensate for his own inability to produce dreams.
Ron Pearlman has made a career out of playing the strong silent type and his portrayal as One, an Russian ex-whaler turned Neanderthal-like strongman plays to his strengths. With sparse dialog available, Pearlman creates a believably lovable character using only his physical acting skills. As One searches for his little brother, he finds a new little sister in his precocious partner, Miette. What begins as a child’s sympathy for a seemingly dull-witted strongman evolves into an unparalleled adoration for this he-man with a heart of gold. The two share many a touching moment as the bond between the seemingly mismatched pair grows.
Directors Jeunet and Caro excel at taking film clichés and crafting them into unique character nuances. For example, the school teacher who uses students to commit petty street crime has become a common archetype amongst Dickens-esque storytellers. But instead of a common Fagin-like character for their film, Jeunet and Caro create The Octopus, a pair of sisters joined at the foot – literally. As the twins stumble through life with their one oversized shoe, minor character actions bring to life their unusual existence. A scene in which the pair prepares a meal especially highlights the actress’s ability to synchronize movements and bring fluidity to their combined actions. The details that went into their performance help sell audiences on the often larger then life situations. Little actions like when one twin inhales a cigarette the other exhales the smoke adds to the overall picture without drawing attention to the often bizarre ingredients.
The film’s most bizarre moments are courtesy of Daniel Emilfork’s portrayal of Krank, a scientist born from a test tube. Due to an unfortunate genetic quark, Krank is unable to dream. This inability eventually ages him prematurely, leaving him an ancient bitter husk. Assisting Krank is a collection of clone brothers. While they lack the inability to dream, they suffer from a fondness for foolishness and a need to prove themselves as the “original.” The brothers are all played by Jean-Pierre Jeunet-mainstay Dominique Pinon.
The film, which defies classification yet flirts between science fiction and fantasy, manages to balance an array of wildly inventive ideas claustrophobically crammed into a 112-minute package with a sprawling imagination that bulldozes through any pre-conceived notions.
The hardest part of watching the film is choosing when to read the subtitles and when to gawk in amazement at the amazing visuals. The film’s unwillingness to explain the science behind the gothic steam punk inspired inventions utilized by the diverse cast of characters adds to the enveloping nature of the film. Instead of being hindered by lengthy exposition, the filmmakers chose to let the character’s action speak for themselves. Motivations and back stories are presented organically as characters interact with each other and their environment. Nobody is who they seem to be in this Carroll-esque rabbit hole of fantasy.
