TAN YEE YONG U0930059K

INTRODUCTION TO MAGICAL REALISM

3.In what way does Amélie focus on the ‘SMALL PLEASURES’ of life? Do you think this is a positive
thing or a dangerous form of escapism – a way of avoiding unpleasant realities and abandoning ‘big
political ideals’?

Part  of  Amélie’s  acclaim  was  attributed  to  its  portrayal  of  a  life  in  pursuit  
of  “small  pleasures”,  where  the  ordinary  is  perhaps  a  setup  for  the  magical  
to  happen.    This  essay  shall  attempt  to  explore  beyond  the  standard  
definition  of  the  term  in  the  movie,  and  relate  to  the  feasibility  of  the  
notion  in  both  the  meta-­‐world  of  Jean-­‐Pierre  Jeunet,  and  also  in  
contemporary  lifestyle’s  holism.  

The  movie  starts  with  a  brief  introduction  of  unrelated  events  leading  to  
the  lead  character’s  conception,  and  along  that,  a  grand  list:  “Il  n’aime  
pas…  Elle  aime…”  (He  hates…  she  likes….);  A  myriad  of  unpredictable  
combinations  of  likes  and  dislikes  to  the  characters  in  the  movie,  
regardless  of  the  size  of  their  role.  This  is  where  we  first  see  the  notion  of  
“small  pleasures”  of  life;  on  the  surface,  nonsensical  yet  highly  personal,  
habitual  actions  or  eccentricities  that  we  endear  to  as  part  of  our  self-­‐
affirmation,  but  in  actuality  embodies  much  more  than  just  identity.  

“W ITHOUT  YOU ,  TODAY ' S  EMOTIONS  WOULD  BE  

THE  SCURF  OF  YESTERDAY ’ S .”  
“…T ICKETS ,  PLEASE .”  
[1]  

Such  a  notion  is  centered  on  Amélie  though,  as  her  relentless  pursuit  (and  
acceptance)  of  the  imaginary  and  the  fantastic  conversely  numbs  her  to  
the  rigid  social  norms  of  the  world  and  the  depressing  realities  of  life,  
most  evidently  shown  above  where  she  recites  a  poetic  line  to  a  bus  
conductor.  The  stark  contrast  between  reality  and  Jeunet/  Amélie’s  
 attempts  of  sidestepping  it  continues,  such  as  the  acknowledgement  of  a  
“life-­‐changing”  moment  of  hers  with  her  discovering  a  metal  box-­‐  instead  
of  the  shock  response  towards  the  death  of  Princess  Diana  on  the  news,  
and  also  her  fondness  of  feel-­ing  (or  shall  we  say  observation  of  sensual  
aesthetics?)  by  favoring  the  subtle,  the  authentic,  the  seemingly  
insignificant  and  non-­‐contextual:  the  tasks  that  probably  would  never  get  
her  anywhere  in  real  life.  

“I  HAD  TWO  HEART  ATTACKS ,  AN  ABORTION ,  DID  

CRACK  WHILE   I  WAS  PREGNANT .   O THER  THAN  
THAT ,   I' M  FINE .”  
  “[ FEIGNED  RESPONSE ]… GOOD .”  
[2]  

It  seems  ironic  however,  that  by  virtue  of  Magic  Realism,  Amélie’s  
obsession  over  these  pleasures  takes  the  viewer  on  a  journey  of  change  
spanning  through  the  entire  film.  Whereas  she  used  to  be  entirely  
sufficient  on  sampling  fragments  of  life’s  eccentricities  in  solitude,  now  
she  feels  the  urge  to  find  a  resolve  for  the  people  around  her  living  in  
disillusionment;  be  it  getting  over  grief,  jealousy,  or  even  oppression.  This,  
too,  can  be  argued  into  the  notion  of  “small  pleasures”:  acts  that  go  
beyond  the  feeling  of  authentic  aesthetics,  and  involve  the  feel-­ing  of  
authentic  emotions:  joy,  elation,  relief,  closure.  As  authentic  as  they  may  
be,  these  feelings  are  not  hers.  

“I F   A MÉLIE  CHOOSES  TO  LIVE  IN  A  DREAM -­‐ WORLD  

AND  REMAIN  AN  INTROVERTED  YOUNG  WOMAN ,  
SHE  HAS  EVERY  RIGHT  TO  MESS  UP  HER  LIFE !”  
[3]  

 
Equally  ironic  is  perhaps  the  fact  that  Amélie  chooses  to  feel  for  everyone  
and  everything  else,  yet  does  not  do  so  for  herself.  Along  her  pursuits  of  
“small  pleasures”  the  certainty  of  self-­‐resolve  was  lost.  

By  herself,  Amélie  seems  content  with  what  she  has;  yet  through  the  
course  of  the  film  the  painter  Dufayel  starts  to  question  the  point  of  her  
“simple  pleasures”  when  they  do  nothing  to  solve  her  underlying  
problems,  nor  satisfy  her  when  her  shyness  impedes  her  from  going  
ahead  with  a  relationship.  

Escapism?  Without  a  doubt.  Dangerous?  I  suppose  not  though;  At  least  

not  in  Jeunet’s  world,  where  Montmarte  is  portrayed  as  a  city  naturalized  
to  mannerisms  of  a  suburb  or  even  a  non-­‐urban  tourist  trap:  devoid  of  
people,  grit,  danger  and  even  any  sort  of  ontology,  thus  scenic  and  
pleasant:  even  the  death  of  Amélie’s  mother  was  portrayed  in  a  manner-­‐
of-­‐fact  style  without  any  exclamation.  Amélie  lives  and  seemingly  thrives  
in  this  created  world  of  his-­‐  until  Dufayel  starts  to  make  her  look  deep  
into  what  she  actually  wants  with  her  life  (and  it  is  assumed  that  she  
reciprocates  this  gesture  with  a  similar  act).  

Reality  might  be  too  hard  for  “simple  pleasures”  to  bear:  in  Amélie  they  
were  set  against  a  simplistic  backdrop  free  of  noise,  which  became  
enabling  for  the  fantastical  to  happen;  in  current  reality,  deliberate  chance  
is  perhaps  even  rarer  than  a  dodo  sighting,  and  miraculous  acts  of  
coincidence  can  only  be  hoped  for  –  the  magical  in  reality  does  not  seem  
as  an  adequete  impetus  to  live  a  life  surrounding  such  simplicity.    Add  in  
the  unpleasantness  of  daily  disappointment  and  the  backdrop  of  
contemporary  urban  life  truly  feels  like  hostile  ground  for  the  term.  

Yasujiro  Ozu’s  Tokyo  Story,  a  film  set  50  years  back  in  Japan,  speaks  
clearly  about  the  divide  between  “simple  pleasures”  of  the  children’s  
parents  in  their  intentions  and  mannerisms  and  city  life  drawing  their  
children  towards  different  priorities  (Money?  Career?  Obligation?  
Perhaps  not  so  simple  anymore?)  even  back  then.  I  suppose  this  serves  as  
a  good  justification  for  Jeunet  to  transpose  his  vision  of  Paris  into  a  retro-­‐
styled,  romantic  voyage  reminiscent  of  the  60s,  where  the  modern  was  
present  but  picturesque  nostalgia  towards  a  simpler  era  prevailed.    
Henceforth  I  find  critics  claiming  Jeunet’s  world  being  unfair  and  untrue  
to  be  missing  the  forest  for  the  trees;  Amélie  feels  more  authentic  than  
most  films  or  literature  approaches  to  Magical  Realsim;  the  honest  
(straightforward)  narrative,  the  eccentric  characters,  the  subliminal  
cinematography  and  the  imperfect  tropes,  they  all  hold  no  pretense  
towards  their  existence;  And  above  all  they  add  to  the  effect  that  Amélie  
gives  to  the  viewer  in  regards  of  what  to  make  of  magic,  and  “simple  
pleasures”:  A  strong  hope  for  the  miraculous  in  the  everyday,  instead  of  
doubt  towards  the  absurdly  fantastic.  

[1][2][3]  Jean-­‐Pierre  Jeunet.  Amélie.  Claudie  Ossard  Productions,  2001.