Adama:
The World of the Wind,
directed by Simon Rouby, is the most unique animated film since Pixar first
developed its new age style in Toy Story.
In a remote West African village that’s
surrounded on all sides by high cliffs, 12-year-old Adama and his family live
sheltered from the evils of the World of the Wind. But when the Nassaras seduce
his older brother, Samba, to leave the shelter of the cliffs, Adama flees from
his Utopia and embarks on a treacherous adventure to bring his brother home.
Like a crow drawn to anything shiny,
Adama haphazardly uses his childish intuition to guide his journey. He travels
across deserts and seas—with the help of a few strangers—until he winds up in
Paris. It’s 1914, and World War I has just begun.
It turns out the World of the Wind isn’t
a hell of intangible demonic spirits as Adama’s elders proclaimed, but a brutal
reality of industrialized warfare. Samba hasn’t been possessed, but recruited
as a soldier for the French forces.
Eventually, Adama’s search takes him to the
belly of the beast. With bombs, airstrikes and poisonous gas, the Western Front
is no place for a young boy.
Adama
is a historical fantasy
that successfully sheds light on the little-known African battalions’
involvement in WWI. It also celebrates West African culture through a score
composed of genuine ethnic music with original instruments and accurate
depictions of spiritual rituals and traditions.
After research, I found that the writer,
Julien Lilti, had clear purpose with the terms and names chosen for the story.
“Nassaras,” is an ancient African word
for white people. So, the insidious ones are white people. We’ve seen this
theme before (i.e. Pocahontas, Avatar), but it’s not demonstrated so
blatantly in Adama; rather, it’s not
explained at all. At its core, this is not a story of white culture disrupting
a native land. This film is about exactly whom its title says: Adama.
Adama, a name of distinct African origin,
means “magnificent child,” and Adama certainly lives up to his name. (Please,
pardon the cliché.)
He’s innocent and uncertain—at times even
terrified. He’s lived such a sheltered life he doesn’t even know that sea water
will be salty and falls back aghast after taking a big gulp. Despite his
immaturity, the young character’s ultimate tenacity and transformation from
gullibly timid to acutely steadfast is inspiring.
Adama is a coming-of-age story made for
children and adults, alike, but I wouldn’t describe it as an animated family
feature; the genre is too all encompassing. This film is truly an artistic
masterpiece.
Rouby, who practiced painting and
sculpting before transitioning to filmmaking, played to his strengths to create
Adama . Two-dimensional animation
makes up the backgrounds while the characters are three-dimensional sculptures
integrated through laser scanning software.
It is this unpredictable pairing of 2 and
3D animation that makes Adama so
special. It’s like watching a beautiful picture book come to life in front of
your eyes. The scenery is made up of soft brush strokes that evoke a watercolor
quality, while the characters are sculpted in such a way that they appear papier
mâché-like.
Although it’s off-putting at first, once
you adjust to the style and the slightly choppy nature of the animation combo,
it’s easy to get lost in the abstract aesthetic.
The most alluring part of the film, from
an artistic standpoint, is Adama’s eyes. Huge, glossy and reeking of emotion,
they say more than the dialogue ever does.
Gargantuan eyes disproportionate to
characters’ faces are a recent trend set forth by Disney in Tangled and subsequently Frozen. Although Elsa’s baby blues are
pretty to look at and help display more emotion than those of animations past,
they don’t serve the same dutiful purpose as Adama’s.
Through his deep brown eyes you can reach
into the depths of his soul. When the score accompanies his facial expressions,
it evokes true empathy for the sweet, strong child.
It’s impossible not to fall in love with
Adama.
WriteR
Julien
Lilti
Director Simon
Rouby
Producers Philippe Aigle and Severine
Lathuilliere of Naïa Productions
CO-PRODUCTION
Pipangaï Studio
France 3 Cinema
Picture Tree International
Running Time 82
minutes
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