Flurrk The overall story is rather basic and fairytale-like. The King wants to marry a shepherdess who in turn is in love with a chimney sweep. As they run away together he tries to capture them. Their only ally is the titular mockingbird.The characters are rather flat. They're devices to forward the plot rather than developed personalities. Even the mockingbird, who is presented as a trickster character, felt rather toothless as such. The only character who displays some depth of personality is the King, in the beginning at least. But even that is stretching it.A lot of pointless side characters are introduced. Much like the main characters they don't really contribute with any lasting emotion or meaning to the story and end up being ignored leaving many loose threads in the end.The movie does a poor job exploring the world it presents; we're taken from point A to B to C and from character A to B to C without lingering anywhere meaningful or exploring any deeper themes. Some crude symbolism thrown in doesn't save it.The movie does contain some successful gags, in particular visual ones. Most relates to the King's egomania. As comedy is the only thing this movie succeeds with story-wise, it's a shame it doesn't really aspire to be one.The direction and editing isn't very tight. There are lots of awkward, unnecessary long and/or pointless scenes and cuts which at best are contributing to the strangeness of this movie and at worst are outright boring.The animation is at a high frame rate and as such it is very fluid. The lines are very precise with no jitter to be seen. However the movements of the characters can be very jerky and despite the animators having high aspirations it is clear they weren't very knowledgeable in animation principles.The King and the Mockingbird's strongest point is its artwork and its setting. The surreal atmosphere it manages to capture at times can be a treat. The character designs are interesting and the environments are intriguing and beautifully rendered. The labyrinthine palace, the wacky modes of transportation and other strange contraptions are indeed captivating. The art and the setting is what saves this movie.In the end, I found this movie somewhat enjoyable and well worth a watch. I would recommend it to anyone artistically inclined. As for people in general, probably not.

FilmCriticLalitRao French film 'Le Roi Et L'Oiseau' is one of the world's best animation film. Nobody can doubt this film's sheer brilliance as well as its artistic greatness as not one but three geniuses lent artistic support towards its making. It is based on the Danish short story 'Hyrdinden Og Skorstensfejeren'/The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep written by Hans Christian Andersen for which director Paul Grimault worked closely for many years with creative partner and maverick French poet friend Jacques Prévert. His only wish was to see this immortal tale transformed into a phenomenal animation film. In recent years, many animation directors including Japanese masters have acknowledged the influence of this masterpiece on their works. The greatness as well as the popularity of this film is immense. This is one valid reason why 'Le Roi Et L'Oiseau' continues to be one of the important elements of French culture. It is believed that it is so important for people from all walks of life that its viewing ought to be made compulsory for people learning French language. 'The king and the mocking bird' can be construed as a film for children but it can also be appreciated by adults. The production values are high for this film and its message of the victory of good over evil needs to be understood by many viewers. Lastly, as an acclaimed animation film which provides valuable moral science insights for children, 'The King and the Mocking Bird' is a film for all those who believe in ethical dimensions of fair play and justice.

gilad-lever My older brother and I watched this film, I think in a Hebrew dub, when we were younger than 8. I have not watched the movie since, although I have looked up the trailer and it does not look as bad as I remember it.However, both my brother and I remember the film as being monumentally disturbing, perhaps because of the almost arcane form of animation and a deep eerie quality. I seem to remember that, as a child, I was able to recognize the king as a villain but that the alignment of other characters was rather ambiguous. Put simply, this movie thoroughly creeped me out.I would wager that this is simply not a movie for children and that it somehow managed to sneak past parental controls. This would be understandable because many people assume that all animation is for children.P.S. I have scoured the net looking for this movie with no memory of it's name or origin and thanks to IMDb I managed to find it. Although my memories of this movie are negative I am glad to be able to track down a powerful childhood experience (to the movie's credit?).

FilmFlaneur Animator and actor Paul Grimault, who appeared in Vigo's 'L'Atalante' (1934), suggested to Jacques Prevert just after the last war that they tackle an adaption of the Hans Christian Andersen story The Shepherdess and The Chimneysweep. The result was a remarkably little-known (at least amongst English and American film lovers) animated feature, La Bergère et Le Ramoneur,(1952) reissued as Le Roi et L'oiseau (1979). It has also been called by the considerably more crass title 'The Curious Adventures of Mr. Wonderbird', or even the bald 'Mr Wonderbird To The Rescue', for its rare surfacings on video. The title tangle reflects the film's obscurity in the English speaking world, as well as the difficulty in categorising a work which is at once a children's film, a polemic fantasy and a uniquely French cultural piece.Prevert, better known as the collaborator with Marcel Carne on such films as Les Enfants du paradis (1945), brought a distinctive brand of poetry and wit to the project which, in its first incarnation took six years to complete. Money problems and disagreements with the producers caused it to be issued, but with Prevert's name removed, in 1952. It was only after twenty years that Grimault was able to see the project completed to his full satisfaction, whereupon it promptly won the prestigious Louis Delluc prize.The action takes place in the imaginary kingdom of Takicardia, ruled by the unpopular King -whimsically named `Charles V and three makes eight and eight makes 16'. The action is narrated in retrospect by the cheerful, omnipresent Mr Bird, who supports and guides the hero and heroine. King Charles (a curious mixture of Mayerling's Crown Prince Rudolf, Ben Turpin and Mussolini) is a squint eyed, conspicuously vain, autocrat who `hated everyone, and everyone hated him right back'. He is fond of shooting and capturing birds, living apparently without queen or immediate family in a labyrinthine palace.After an abortive, shooting interlude, (Mr Bird has already shown us the grave of his wife 'killed in an unfortunate hunting accident') and a witty scene during which he confronts a nervous painter, Charles retires to his 'private and secret apartments' on his palace's 96th floor. Here he contemplates his latest portrait, and those of a chimney sweep and shepherdess already hanging there. He is in love with the image of the girl, viewing that of her painted companion with disdain. That night, while the King sleeps, all of the portraits come alive and, to avoid an impromptu marriage with the royal, the sweep and shepherdess make off. Meanwhile the King's own portrait has become animated, discovering its own love for the sweet girl. He disposes of the real king down a convenient trap door, assumes the throne and pursues the elopers with all the apparatus of the state.The pursuit, and eventual capture of the two, is what occupies the rest of the film. Grimault sets the action amidst the passageways, steps, waterways, roofs and basements of the grand palace. Its baroque setting, with its distinctive use of perspective, recalls the paintings of Giorgio de Chirico. The design of the palace, and its roof top scenes, probably influenced the great Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki's realisation of Cagliostro's castle in his 1979 anime of the same name. For Charles' castle is a wonderful invention, characterised by floating and elevating thrones, bowler hatted policemen, huge galleries, canals, and an exotic skyline of spires, balustrades and minarets. It is also a place of danger. Trap doors open at the touch of a button, eliminating those who displease the king - another element taken over by Miyazaki, incidentally. The king also uses a robot, the machinery of repression made concrete, to pursue his love. Its lumbering yet delicate presence reminds the viewer of the metal gardeners in Miyazaki's Laputa: Castle in the Sky (1986) as well as the more recent American release Iron Giant (1999).Prevert's script juxtaposes different values, or 'arts', and asks us to draw our own conclusions. Do we prefer the vanity and artificiality of portraiture, self-indulgent architectural follies, and grandiose self-admiration? Or the simple charm of a bird call, a blind street beggar's hurdy gurdy, the simplicity of true love? Prevert has his answer ready: he clearly values spontaneity and truth over artificiality and obsequiousness. Wojciech Kilar's superb score complements this with a lovely, plaintive piano main theme, as well as a range of parodic marches used for 'royal use'. (One especially relishes the automated band in the metal giant's chest.) Prevert's script is also concerned with the atmosphere of oppression, and the struggle for liberation. In the aftermath of the Second World War, life under The Occupation was still fresh. King Charles' secret police (who at one point develop the disconcerting ability to fly like black bats) are bumbling, but undeniably still intimidating. Takicardia may be an incompetent state, but one whose determined overthrow will reduce everything to rubble.In the basement of the palace, where the two lovers eventually are cornered, are starving lions and a blind musician. `Does the world really exist and the sun really shine?' he asks plaintively before adding `They saw a bird - there must be hope'. In an extraordinary scene, the beasts waltz to the hurdy-gurdy man's instrument, being dissuaded from eating the chimneysweep by the power of music, before the bird's propagandistic speech raises their ire and they assist in the royal downfall. Theirs is a literal underworld. One whose muted despair and foreboding recalls Prevert's scripts for Quai des brumes (1938) or the doomed waiting of Le Jour se lève (1939), redeemed here by the power of art.In an interview (Jeune Cinéma, n° 128) Grimault stressed the importance of the film as not just being for children but, in its way, as unique a work as the animations of the Americans, a radical and long lasting achievement. Viewing it today it is hard not to disagree with him, and one hopes it will appear on DVD to delight a new audience.