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Good and Naughty

I’ve never walked out of a movie feeling as happy as when I saw Amélie in 2001. Director Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Delicatessan) had shown me a color-saturated, hyped-up Paris—the way his poetic protagonist Amélie (Audrey Tatou) would have experienced it—and the Parisians were even better-looking and sassier than I had hoped. More importantly, Jeunet’s writing was delicate and dark. As a little girl, Amélie imagines rabbits in the clouds, slips her hand deep into barrels of dried beans for the feel of it, and in a fit of naughtiness, punishes a neighbor who berates her by disconnecting his antenna at key points in a televised soccer match.

Like all sensitive types, she sees beauty in the ordinary and is pained by mean people. And like all great heroes, she steps up and actually does something about the injustice around her.

The film offers so much to love, in fact, that I didn’t realize until years later—when I had been around people consciously trying to better themselves and the planet—that what kept a smile on my face for days was

Amélie’s epiphanous decision to make people happy in small, simple ways. That was what her life would be about, even if that meant continuing her covert punishments of those oppressing others. As someone never described as a leader or joiner, but who likes making other people happy, I was in.


And I stayed in, so delicious were Amélie’s mitzvahs. She spots a visually-impaired man crossing a street and takes his arm; but instead of letting go on the other side, as I would have done, she pulls him along the bustling sidewalk and describes everything he would want to see. When she finds a rusty cigar box hidden behind a bathroom tile, she tracks down its original owner and watches, hidden, as he sifts through its contents and breaks down, so precious are the memories each bit of plastic or metal conjures.


On the naughty side, after hearing her corner grocer publically berate his developmentally disabled employee, she sneaks into the grocer’s apartment and sets his alarm to the middle of the night, exchanges his slippers for a slightly smaller pair, swaps his toothpaste for a similar tube of athlete’s foot cream. Call it passive aggressive or childish—and yes, she could have just found the bullied boy another job—but wasn’t it wonderful to see the grocer discover what it felt like to lack mastery of his world?


Amélie sees love, too, as a way we can make each other happy, and she sets up two highly neurotic friends (a stalker and a hypochondriac) to a hilarious but predictable end. She also finds someone for herself, scheming elaborately (there’s a Zorro costume, photo booths, and much more). He’s the right guy, too, even if he works at a sex shop and runs a rickety House of Horrors carnival ride (because of this, actually).


I still try to follow Amélie’s lead every day. Maybe I only smile at passersby, teach my children to always be kind, or write about people sweating in the trenches of social innovation. (Once I stopped my car to help a woman power her wheelchair up an angled crosswalk, and was so nervous about embarrassing her that I nearly pushed her into traffic.) But small gestures are like gifts in little packages. They make us as happy as the big things, whether we’re giving or receiving.


I hope you will accept my small gift of Amélie.

 

—Jennifer Roberts

 

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