OAIF Review: Tales From the Magic Garden explores loss through storytelling

Derek (10), Suzan (8), and Tom (4) have spent many happy days visiting their grandparents. Grandpa -- who looks quite a bit like Santa Claus -- might be trimming the bushes or doing other yardwork. Derek spends a lot of time in the treehouse. He's getting to that age when he feels the need to pull away a bit from his younger siblings. Maybe he's on the cusp of adulthood, or at least he thinks he is. Suzan and Tom can often be found sitting alongside Grandma, whose gardening hat doubles as a vessel to collect story ideas. She doffs it and sets it in front of her, ready to receive the "ingredients" her grandkids (Derek included) offer. Three ingredients -- no more, no less -- and then away they go on a story of her invention.

But this time, the visit is different. Gone are the halcyon, green-tinged days of summer. Now, there's a funereal cover of grey clouds in the sky. The colors of the yard are muted, untended-to. There's a heaviness, and more notably, an absence: Grandma is gone. Grandpa seems a little lost, listless. When the kids request a bedtime story, he brushes the request away, retreating into himself, and into the little shed in the yard where he tinkers away at a secret project.

On top of the dresser in the kids' room is that seemingly magic hat, the one Grandma used to skillfully many times as she wove her stories. Now, with her gone, Suzan takes on the task, eliciting ingredients from Tom so she can tell stories of her own.

One of the features playing in competition at OAIF this year, Tales From the Magic Garden is adapted from Arnošt Goldflam's book of unusual fairy tales Of Unwanted Things and People. It's a charming (if slight) bit of childhood creativity. Adapted by multiple directors who took on different stories within the film, I was impressed how of a piece it feels. Sure, each of the stories is distinct in its tone, structure, etc., but not to the point where you can feel the pull of different artistic voices behind the camera. Whether that's a good or bad thing could be a matter of taste. For me, I didn't mind.

The main factor that unites all the stories is the sense of childish logic at work. Each story Suzan tells doesn't have much rhyme or reason. Each feels like she's really leaving it all out on the court, following her creative thoughts wherever they may lead. There's a real unpredictability at work within these tales, the only clues you have to build any narrative anticipation being the ingredients that are chosen at the story's start. And those don't give much away.

As with any film that takes on an anthology structure like this, not all parts are created equally. I was most taken with the first story, about a brother and sister who find a cat on the street which they promptly adopt and name Fearless. Maybe it's because it came first that it really stuck with me. But I think it's more that Fearless is so stupidly cute, this little big-eyed pathetic slip of a cat. Every time it came on screen, I couldn't help but laugh. I love that cat!

The two other stories are fine on their own, as well, and all of them do a nice job of exposing some of the ways children might process the loss of a loved one, or other traumatic events. The world can be so scary or strange, hard to understand, random, unknowable. Suzan, in honoring her grandmother by taking on the storytelling mantle, is navigating some of these thoughts and emotions, which might be too complex for her to name more plainly. Though by the time she's telling the final story, it feels like she's reached the height of her powers, and realized that in the act of imagination, she can do her part to help heal wounds, and to help her family members find their way toward happiness and fun again.

Of course, I would be remiss not to heap praise upon the animation. I've said it here many times, and I'll never stop saying it: I love stop-motion. It is my favorite kind of animation. A movie being stop-motion animated almost makes the content of the movie a moot point, because I will be so happy to be watching stop-motion animation. (Almost.) Here, that itch was certainly scratched. Along with Fearless's wonderful design, I also loved Suzan's shock of red hair, the design of the Muppet-looking creature in the second story, and the plethora of birds in the final tale. There are also a lot of nifty bits of lighting throughout. It's really good-looking stuff, and all parts look quite consistent and coherent with each other.

While Tales of the Magic Garden might not linger long in my memory, it's a lovely little movie with its heart in the right place, and that certainly counts for something. Sometimes, hearing some pleasant stories that might slip away with the morning light is enough.