As an adult, returning to watch a beloved film from childhood can be a most delightful experience. That which charmed you then may still charm you now, but the best kids’ films are made with a level of artistry and intelligence that can make them even more impactful when you’re old enough to appreciate it. As a filmmaker, why not put the same care into a kids’ film that you’d put into any other? Film is art, after all, not just some cheap audiovisual pacifier.
It is thus with considerable disappointment that we come to Julián — the latest feature from Cartoon Saloon, the Irish production studio with a previously unimpeachable record of excellent animated films — which, as art, is little more than just some… cheap audiovisual pacifier. Kids may love its bright colours, its appealing characters, and its whimsical flourishes of fantasy, but there’s barely anything else for adults to latch onto. Simplistic, predictable, and lacking in almost any narrative momentum, it’s as bland as its studio’s previous films were vibrant, despite its vivid palette and uplifting message.
Based on Jessica Love’s acclaimed picture book, Julián, directed by Louise Bagnall and co-directed by Guillaume Lorin and Mark Mullery, follows a young boy sent to spend a summer in New York with a grandmother he doesn’t know. Exuberant and adventurous, with a love of all things oceanic and a lively imagination, the titular Julián initially struggles to fit in, testing his abuela’s patience and chafing against her house rules. But then he meets three local girls around his age, and discovers that they’re working on a project: creating costumes for the upcoming mermaid parade. It’s the perfect outlet for his creative spirit, aligning as it does with his passion for the sea, so he impresses the girls with sketches of their proposed outfits, and convinces them to let him into their group to prepare for the parade. Abuela, however, might take more convincing…
Then again, she might not. Juliany Taveras’ script is so preoccupied with fashioning moments of joy and wonder that it seems to stifle almost all hints of conflict as soon as they arise. Julián is a fish out of water almost everywhere he goes — an outsider in New York, a wild child living with his reserved grandmother, a boy in a group of girls, and a queer-coded character in an apparently period setting (the date is never specified, though minor details indicate that it’s likely late 20th Century). But whatever difficulties his incongruity might cause are, time and again, and quite implausibly, swiftly overlooked. The community accepts him without question, and abuela soon agrees to sew his mermaid costume; a later incident at the local swimming pool provides the first meaningful instance of friction, in that it actually develops into something narratively consequential, but by this stage — into the film’s third act — its consequence is minimal.
And, even then, everything that arises is much too expected to have any impact. Every character is drawn broad, every situation straightforward, every detail digestible, with no shocks nor surprises. It feels as familiar and plodding as it feels directionless, with momentary indications of plot threads or character traits that aren’t followed through, or fantastical elements that are both too heavily developed to be ambiguous yet not developed enough to register as tangible parts of Julián’s reality. The film is a collage of trite scenes swirling with over-emphatic sweetness, all happy vibes with precious little substance beneath them.
Most frustrating of all is that it needn’t have been this way. Cartoon Saloon’s prior output has been terrific — 2020’s Wolfwalkers remains one of the decade’s best animated films — and Love’s source material is graceful and evocative where Julián the film is heavy-handed. One might suspect that Bagnall and Taveras had the kids first in mind when making their film, and indeed kids may find much to enjoy in it. Give them 20 years, though, and will they find so much to enjoy should they return to watch it? Adults may take it from one of their own: probably not.
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