“Julián is an absolute delight.”

Life tends to be quite confusing, especially when you are growing up. There comes a point in everyone’s childhood where the world seemingly opens up into something far larger, which can be both intimidating and exhilarating. I’ve always been drawn to stories about young people taking their first steps into the real world, since they often contain some of the most captivating observations on the process of growing up. Louise Bagnall seems to be similarly fascinated with the concept, as it forms the foundation for Julián, her wonderful feature directorial debut, in which she adapts the children’s picture book Julián Is a Mermaid by Jessica Love. The film follows the titular character, a young boy, as he travels to Brooklyn with his father, where he will be staying with his grandmother for a short time. Suddenly, the boy who had previously lived a more sheltered existence finds himself immersed in the colourful melting pot of her neighbourhood, which is starkly different from his usual domestic life. A film that knows exactly how to tackle challenging subject matter without becoming unnecessarily heavy-handed, coupled with some gorgeous animation, Julián is an absolute delight, telling a story that seems simple on the surface, but reaches depths that we may not have expected from what appears to be a fairly straightforward animated gem.

As is often the case with these smaller animated films, Julián is built on a simple premise that explores themes far deeper than a cursory glance would suggest. The story of a young boy being plunged into new surroundings is already fertile ground for a meaningful celebration of culture and traditions, which is the seed from which the entire film eventually sprouts. The precise location (other than somewhere in Brooklyn) is never stated, nor is the titular character’s exact background, in what seems to be an intentional choice to show the city as a melting pot, a place where so many different cultures intersect and become something that defies categorisation. This correlates beautifully with the more subtle subject matter, which is the protagonist going on a journey of self-discovery, learning about himself in the process of seeing the world through a very different perspective. Not only is the film a moving story of family, particularly in how it revolves around the growing relationship between Julián and his Abuela (intergenerational stories are always compelling when done properly), but it also acts as a coming-of-age tale about a young child discovering their identity. A lot can be read into the film, especially in the subtext relating to gender roles and how society places young people into boxes long before they have had the opportunity to find themselves, but these themes are intentionally kept ambiguous, with Bagnall focusing less on the discourse and more on the simple premise of a young boy deciding to march to the beat of his own drum.  

Julián is a true labour of love, Bagnall having worked on it for over half a decade. The results are clear in absolutely every frame of the film, which is undeniably one of the year’s most endearing achievements in animation. Perhaps the best way to describe it, both visually and tonally, would be to imagine that Spike Lee made a film targeted at younger viewers (there are even a few compositions reminiscent of Do the Right Thing, especially in terms of colour), a strange comparison in theory, but one that becomes more relevant as we venture through this love letter to Brooklyn and its residents. We experience the feeling of walking down a bustling street in Brooklyn on a hot summer afternoon, surrounded by the most eccentric characters and immersed in the colourful surroundings. This film finds the perfect balance between visual and narrative elements, with whimsy being present but never spiraling out of control or becoming overwhelming, and instead being used to create a vivid depiction of childhood, with the focus on authenticity in between the more abstract moments. The story is brought to life through stunning animation, the director drawing on her years of experience working on a number of other animated films to create the visual palette for a film which thrives in its simplicity, and which moves at a unique and hypnotic rhythm. She hews closely to the source material to create a faithful adaptation that builds on the author’s work rather than trying to do more than is necessary. It is all tied together to form a film that moves at its own pace, focusing on the emotional content as much as the visual splendour, finding the right combination and allowing this delightfully moving story to take us on an unforgettable journey.

Regardless of how you look at it – whether as a charming little curio about celebrating cultural diversity or as a deeper, more profound exploration of a young boy finding himself – Julián is a truly wonderful film, and Bagnall proves that she is someone to be watched going forward. The film doesn’t need an outrageous premise or particularly complex execution to be effective, since the story is primarily what draws us in and makes us fall madly in love with these characters. The specific meaning of the film can be left open to interpretation (Bagnall allows for some flexibility in this regard, giving each viewer the chance to engage with the story on their own terms), but it does function mostly as an allegorical tale of finding your identity, using familiar coming-of-age techniques to become this gentle but life-affirming story of individuality. Julián delivers a beautiful message without seeming overwrought or saccharine (every emotion we feel comes from a place of sincerity rather than the same manufactured sentimentality we often see in coming-of-age stories), and it finds ways to comment on deeper themes without being overwhelming. An ode to those daring enough to be themselves, as well as to those trusted people who validate them on their specific journeys, Julián is a delightful film, simple enough to have clear intentions, but also not afraid to allude to more complex ideas that are just as relevant. Through bold colours, beautiful writing and the right balance of emotions, Bagnall crafts a moving tale of celebrating culture and acknowledging the value of letting one’s light shine through, embracing their identity and not allowing anyone to dull the shine, regardless of what society may consider acceptable, which is a story that has never felt more meaningful and vital than it does today.