Honestly, if you haven't seen The Triplets of Belleville, you’ve probably seen a screenshot of it and wondered if you were having a low-grade fever. It's that movie. You know the one—the animation looks like it was sketched on a cocktail napkin by someone who drinks way too much espresso and spends too much time in dark jazz clubs.
Released in 2003 (or 2004, depending on which side of the pond you’re on), this French-Belgian-Canadian fever dream didn't just break the rules of animation; it acted like they didn't exist. There’s almost zero dialogue. The character designs are grotesque. The plot involves the French mafia, explosive frog fishing, and a dog that is pathologically obsessed with trains.
It’s weird. It’s "uncouth," as the late Roger Ebert put it. And it is one of the most brilliant things ever put to celluloid.
The Triplets of Belleville: A Masterclass in Showing, Not Telling
In a world where modern animated movies feel the need to explain every emotion with a 90-second monologue from a talking animal sidekick, The Triplets of Belleville movie is a radical act of silence. Director Sylvain Chomet chose to let the visuals do 99% of the heavy lifting.
You’ve got Madame Souza, a tiny, club-footed Portuguese grandmother with a resolve made of tempered steel. She’s raising her grandson, Champion, who is basically a sentient pair of quads. Seriously, his legs are the size of tree trunks, while his upper body is a piece of overcooked linguine.
When Champion is kidnapped during the Tour de France by two boxy, square-shouldered Mafia henchmen—who literally merge into one silhouette when they walk—Souza doesn't call the cops. She rents a pedal boat. She crosses the Atlantic. She follows the scent with her overweight, rhythmic-barking dog, Bruno.
Why the Lack of Dialogue Works
Most "bilingual" films are a mess of subtitles. Chomet sidesteps this by using what he calls "pidgin French"—muffled, garbled nonsense sounds that feel like the adults from Peanuts but with a Gallic accent.
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This forces you to watch. Like, really watch.
You notice the way the light hits the wine-stained streets of Belleville (a city that’s basically what would happen if New York, Montreal, and Paris had a very crowded, very grimy baby). You feel the exhaustion in Champion’s pedal strokes. You hear the "music" the Triplets make using a refrigerator rack, a vacuum cleaner, and a newspaper.
It's pure cinema.
The Art of the Grotesque
Let’s talk about the art style for a second. It's not "cute." If you’re looking for Pixar-level polish and symmetrical faces, you’re in the wrong neighborhood.
- Champion: A caricature of professional athletes whose bodies are deformed by their sport.
- The Mafia: They aren't just "tough guys"; they are geometric shapes, black boxes that represent the crushing weight of corporate greed.
- The Triplets: Once-glamorous music hall stars from the 1930s who now live in a derelict apartment, eating nothing but frogs they catch with dynamite.
Chomet was heavily influenced by Jacques Tati, the French comic genius behind Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday. You can see it in the pantomime, the physical comedy, and the way the world feels slightly tilted. But there’s also a dark, Edward Gorey-esque vibe to it. It’s "alternative adult" animation that doesn't care if you find it pretty.
In fact, Chomet has been vocal about his disdain for "pretty" characters. He thinks they're boring. He’d rather draw a grandmother with a loose glass eye and a determined pulse than another cookie-cutter hero.
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The Hidden Satire of Belleville
The movie is a massive middle finger to the commercialization of... well, everything.
The city of Belleville is filled with obese "Americans" (though they’re more like global consumerist archetypes) eating "Hollyfood." The Statue of Liberty is holding a hamburger instead of a torch. It’s not necessarily anti-American, though. Chomet has said it’s a caricature of the "imposition" of mass culture.
The Mafia kidnapping Champion to use his leg power for a gambling machine? That’s an allegory for the way corporations drain the soul and individual passion out of art and sport.
That Soundtrack (Belleville Rendez-vous)
You cannot talk about this film without mentioning the music. Benoît Charest’s score is a Django Reinhardt-inspired masterpiece of gypsy jazz.
The opening scene—a "scratched" black-and-white 1930s-style cartoon—features the Triplets performing their hit, "Belleville Rendez-vous." It’s catchy. It’s haunting. It was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Song, and it honestly should have won. (It lost to "Into the West" from Lord of the Rings, which, okay, fair, but the Triplets did it with a vacuum cleaner).
The way the film uses sound as a narrative device is genius. Madame Souza "tunes" a bicycle wheel to play Mozart’s Requiem. The dog’s barking is syncopated to the passing trains. The movie proves that sound design is just as much an "instrument" as a violin or a piano.
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Real-World Impact and Legacy
When it hit Cannes in 2003, people didn't know what to make of it. It was the first PG-13 animated film to be nominated for the Best Animated Feature Oscar. It lost to Finding Nemo, which makes sense because Disney/Pixar is a juggernaut, but The Triplets of Belleville has arguably aged better as a piece of pure art.
It paved the way for Chomet’s next film, The Illusionist (2010), based on an unproduced script by Jacques Tati himself.
Why You Should Watch It Today
We are currently drowning in a sea of AI-generated sludge and formulaic sequels. The Triplets of Belleville movie is the antidote. It feels hand-scrawled. It feels like it was made by human beings with wine-stained fingers in a cramped apartment.
It’s a reminder that animation isn't a "genre" for kids—it's a medium.
Actionable Next Steps for Animation Fans
If you're ready to dive into this weird world or want to explore similar vibes, here’s how to do it:
- Watch with the Sound Up: This isn't a movie for a tiny phone screen. Put it on the big TV and use good speakers. The foley work is the secret sauce.
- Look for the Easter Eggs: Keep an eye out for the poster of Monsieur Hulot's Holiday and the clip of Tati’s Jour de Fête on the television.
- Explore the "Third Way" of Animation: If you like this, check out Chomet's short film The Old Lady and the Pigeons or the works of Bill Plympton.
- Listen to the Soundtrack: Find the "Belleville Rendez-vous" versions by Matthieu Chedid (-M-). It’s an absolute earworm.
It's over. "Th-th-th-that's all, folks!" Just like the cheeky Looney Tunes nod at the very end of the film. Whether you're here for the cycling, the jazz, or the explosive frogs, you won't forget the Triplets.
Practical Tip: You can usually find the Blu-ray or high-quality stream under the title Belleville Rendez-vous if you’re searching in the UK. Don't worry about the language barrier—there isn't one.
Reference Sources: Roger Ebert Review (2003), Animation World Network Interview with Sylvain Chomet, BOMB Magazine analysis, PopMatters Film Critique.