Okay, settle in, rewinders. Sometimes, amidst the explosion-fests and synth-heavy soundtracks that defined so much of our beloved VHS era, you'd stumble across something entirely different. Something quieter, stranger, yet utterly captivating. Picture this: late 90s, perhaps flicking through channels late at night or discovering a curated animation showcase tape, and suddenly you’re pulled into a vision of Paris unlike any other. That’s the magic of Sylvain Chomet’s 1997 animated short, The Old Lady and the Pigeons (original title: La Vieille Dame et les Pigeons).
This wasn't your Saturday morning cartoon fare, nor was it the polished grandeur of Disney Renaissance features dominating the box office. No, this was something else – a meticulously hand-drawn, nearly wordless tale steeped in atmosphere, dark humor, and a peculiar, almost unsettling charm. It felt like uncovering a hidden European gem, a whispered secret amongst animation aficionados before Chomet would later enchant the world with The Triplets of Belleville (2003).
A Parisian Appetite
The premise is wonderfully bizarre, instantly grabbing your attention. We follow a gaunt, perpetually starving gendarme (a French police officer) who observes an old lady in a Parisian park lavishing gourmet meals upon a flock of plump, pampered pigeons. Driven by desperate hunger and a touch of madness, he devises a plan: disguise himself as a giant pigeon to infiltrate her apartment and partake in the feast. What follows is a descent into absurdity, indulgence, and consequences that linger long after the credits roll.
The animation itself is the star here. Rendered in exquisite, traditional 2D, every frame feels like a living illustration. Chomet’s style, already distinct even in this earlier work, captures a specific vision of Paris – slightly exaggerated, full of character, with architecture that leans and breathes. The character design is phenomenal; the emaciated gendarme with his drooping moustache and desperate eyes, the enigmatic, almost sinisterly serene old lady, and those grotesquely fat pigeons – they’re instantly memorable. Forget sleek CG models; this is the tangible beauty of pencil lines and watercolour washes, a craft that felt increasingly rare even back in 1997 as digital animation began its ascent.
More Than Just Feathers
What makes The Old Lady and the Pigeons stick with you isn't just the oddball plot or the gorgeous visuals. It’s the atmosphere Chomet conjures. There's a subtle melancholy woven through the humour, a commentary perhaps on obsession, desperation, and the strange relationships we form (even with birds, or disguised as one). The lack of dialogue forces you to read the emotions in the characters' expressions and body language, making the visual storytelling paramount. The slapstick elements – the gendarme struggling with his cumbersome costume, the sheer gluttony on display – are undeniably funny, but they’re tinged with something darker, more complex.
Finding detailed "behind-the-scenes" trivia for a short film from this era can be tricky, but the journey of The Old Lady and the Pigeons itself is fascinating. This wasn't a quick student project; it was a labour of love that reportedly took Sylvain Chomet nearly a decade to complete, working on it between commercial gigs. That dedication shines through in every meticulous detail. Its quality didn't go unnoticed – the short garnered significant acclaim, including a BAFTA win, the Grand Prix at the Annecy International Animated Film Festival, and even an Academy Award nomination for Best Animated Short Film in 1998 (losing out to Pixar's Geri's Game). For many cinephiles, this was their first introduction to Chomet’s unique artistic voice, planting the seeds for the anticipation that would surround Triplets.
A Taste That Lingers
Watching it again now, perhaps on a less fuzzy screen than the old CRT, the artistry holds up beautifully. It’s a perfect example of how animation can explore adult themes and complex tones with nuance and style. It feels like a direct precursor to the whimsical melancholy of The Illusionist (2010), another Chomet masterpiece. The film doesn't spoon-feed you meaning; it invites you into its slightly off-kilter world and lets you savour the strange flavour. You might chuckle at the gendarme's predicament, marvel at the animation, and perhaps feel a slight shiver at the ending's implications.
It might not have been the tape you rented every weekend, but The Old Lady and the Pigeons represents the kind of discovery that made browsing those video store shelves, or catching unexpected gems on television, so rewarding. It’s a reminder that animation in the 90s wasn't monolithic; alongside the blockbusters, these unique, personal visions were being crafted, offering something truly different.
VHS Heaven Rating: 9/10
This rating reflects the sheer artistry, originality, and enduring charm of this remarkable short. The meticulous hand-drawn animation is breathtaking, the storytelling is witty and subtly dark, and it perfectly showcases Sylvain Chomet's burgeoning genius. It loses a single point only because, as a short, its reach might have been less ubiquitous than feature films of the era, but its quality is undeniable.
The Old Lady and the Pigeons is a delectable, slightly strange amuse-bouche from a master animator – a small treasure that reminds you just how weird and wonderful cinema, especially animation, could be. A true connoisseur's delight.