
2016 · Claude Barras
For when you need a good cry that ends in warmth rather than wreckage — short enough for a school night, tender enough to restore your faith in people. Fine for older kids, but it hits adults hardest.
After his mother's death, a boy nicknamed Zucchini is taken by a kind police officer to a foster home full of other orphans his age. Among kids who share their catastrophes the matter-of-fact way children actually do, he slowly learns to trust people again — and starts looking for a family of his own.
Gentle, plainspoken, and devastating in about equal measure — it's only 66 minutes, but it carries more emotional weight than most films twice its length. You'll cry, and it'll be the good kind.
Claude Barras' stop-motion puppets — saucer eyes, blue hair, heads too big for their bodies — look naive on purpose: the childlike surface lets the film speak plainly about abandonment and abuse without ever depicting them. Céline Sciamma's screenplay is a marvel of what's left unsaid, refusing villains and treating tenderness as a form of realism.
An Oscar-nominated proof that handmade animation could tackle the hardest childhood subjects with honesty, it became a modern touchstone for grown-up stop-motion storytelling.
Reception & legacy: how My Life as a Zucchini was received, argued over, and remembered →
Sixty-six minutes of stop-motion that carries more emotional intelligence than most films twice its length. Claude Barras' puppets are deliberately naive — saucer eyes, blue hair, heads too big for their bodies — and the style turns out to be the point: the childlike surface lets the film speak plainly about abandonment, addiction, and abuse without ever depicting them, everything arriving secondhand in the matter-of-fact way children actually share their catastrophes. The screenplay is by Céline Sciamma, adapting Gilles Paris' novel in the same years she was making her own films about childhood, and her fingerprints are everywhere — in the precision of what's left unsaid, in the refusal of villainy, in the conviction that tenderness is a form of realism. The orphanage here is not a Dickensian trial but a place where damaged kids practice being kind to each other. Premiered in the Directors' Fortnight at Cannes, it earned Switzerland an Academy Award nomination for animated feature. The handmade texture matters: every flicker of those enormous eyes had to be posed by human fingers, and you can feel it.
Lines of influence