Original title: Kirikou et la sorcière

French animator Michel Ocelot had been making short, animated films since 1974’s Le tablac, but it wasn’t until 1998 that he was able to get together a feature film, financed by French, Belgian and Luxembourgish money. Inspired by the West African folk tales that Ocelot heard while growing up in Guinea, Kirikou and the Sorceress is a gorgeous, beautifully stylized and often very funny and moving film (without recourse to sentimentality). It was a big hit across Europe though its natural, non-sexualised nudity caused delays in its British and American releases.

The story is really a linked anthology of stories detailing the early days in the life of West African boy Kirikou (the voice of Doudou Gueye Thiaw in the French language version, Theodore Sibusiso Sibeko in the English) and his struggles with an evil sorceress. Kirikou is so impatient to be born that he calls to his mother from in utero asking her to give birth to him. Mother (Maimouna N’Diaye/Kombisile Sangweni) responds by telling him that “a child who can speak from his mother’s womb can bring himself into the world,” which is exactly what he does, emerging as a tiny but developed young boy able to walk and talk immediately. He learns that his father is one of the many men from his village who have fallen prey to Karaba (Awa Sene Sarr/Antoinette Kellermann) the sorceress who has also caused their spring to dry up. Kirikou follows his uncle (Tshilombo Lubambu/Fezile Mpela) as he sets off to confront Karaba and tricks her, saving his uncle and, on the way home, a group of village children who Karaba tries to abduct. He also kills the monster she placed in the village well, drowning in the process, but he’s restored to life buy the simple power of love. Determined to find out why Karaba behaves the way she does (“why are you so mean and evil?” he asks her) he tunnels through a mountain to visit his wise old grandfather (Robert Lionsol/Mabutho Kid Sithole) before returning after realising what it is he needs to do to end all the suffering.

Though Kirikou and the Sorceress has the feel of an anthology of genuine West African folktales, the stories were in fact newly minted by Ocelot but have an air of authenticity such that many still believe them to be the real thing. Youssou N’Dour‘s music, performed on authentic West African instruments, adds to the authentic feel and both the French and English language voice tracks make use of African talent – the French featuring performers from across West Africa and recorded in a studio in Senegal and the English recorded in South Africa featuring local talent.

The animation was handled across Europe and is beautifully rendered in very simple but effective lines. Ocelot tries to emulate the look and feel of African art and often presents his character in flat profile while the overall aesthetic is fascinating, from the almost monochromatic interiors of Karaba’s palace to the riot of colour in the forests. Ocelot resisted efforts from distributors to redraw scenes featuring the topless women to cover up their nudity and got his way, even though it meant the film not quite reaching the audience it deserved in English-language territories. It fell victim to that age-old and still depressingly current attitude that all animation must for young children – while youngsters might get a lot from the film’s message about courage, resilience and tolerance, all of them delivered without recourse to preachiness) it’s not necessarily a film aimed at the youngest demographic.

As noted, the nudity is entirely non-sexualised so shouldn’t be an issue for any but the most protective of parents, but there are some very scary scenes here and there, including an encounter with an angry skunk in its burrow and the scene where the screaming village children are abducted by a tree whose branches snap shut on them like the bars of a cage before the tree heads off to Karaba on its roots is notable chilling. Then too there’s the moment where Kirikou appears to drown, a moment guaranteed to traumatise the younger viewer, though he is restored to life moments later by the love of his mother and the villagers.

Kirikou is a precocious but very loveable young hero, often brighter than most of the adults around him after just a few moments of life and always inquisitive and resourceful. He’s a thoroughly charming blend of innocence and youthful arrogance (“I know what I want,” he defiantly tells Karaba) whose bravery eventually saves the day and who subtly delivers the film’s most important message – that judging books by covers is never a particularly good thing. His quest is really to find that spark of decency that he suspects lies within Karaba and his unwillingness to simply write her off as irredeemably evil no matter what she’s done even leads to a strangely moving romantic ending that’s impossible to see coming.

But there’s plenty of humour here too. There are plenty of knockabout sight gags but also some very funny business with Karaba’s robotic army of “fetishes” that are often more trouble than they’re worth. And there’s even a subtle feminist element at play – Karaba targets the men of the village because of the lifetime of pain that men have caused her, and the storyline raises all sorts of questions about the nature of the patriarchy that it doesn’t necessarily answer. Maybe it didn’t need to – that’s the job of the audience. Clearly, Kirikou and the Sorceress is a multi-layered and nuanced film featuring a culture rarely seen in animation, and it can be enjoyed as simply a stunningly designed and drawn animation or something a bit meatier.

It was such a hit that a pair of sequels followed, Kirikou et les bêtes sauvages/Kirikou and the Wild Beasts in 2005 and Kirikou et les hommes et les femmes/Kirikou and the Men and Women in 2012, with a stage musical, Kirikou et Karaba being staged in 2006, the latter apparently never performed outside of France, more’s the pity. Ocelot also made the similar Azur et Asmar/Azur & Asmar: The Princes’ Quest in 2006 and Les contes de la nuit/Tales of the Night (2011), Ivan Tsarévitch et la Princesse Changeante/Ivan Tsarevitch and the Changing Princess (2016) and Dilili à Paris/Dilili in Paris (2018), all worth your time if you’re at all interested in an alternative to the increasingly bland and homogenised Hollywood school of 3D animation.

Crew
Directed by: Michel Ocelot; © Les Armateurs/ODEC Kid Cartoons/Monipoly Productions/France 3 Cinéma/R.T.B.F. (Télévision Belge); Gebeka Films, Les Armateurs/ODEC Kid Cartoons/Monipoly Productions/France 3 Cinéma/R.T.B.F. (Télévision Belge) present a film by Michel Ocelot. A Les Armateurs/ODEC Kid Cartoons/Monipoly Productions/Trans Europe Film/Studio O/France 3 Cinéma/R.T.B.F. (Télévision Belge) co-production with the participation of Canal+ with the support of Fonds Eurimages du Conseil de l’Europe/Centre National de la Cinématrographie/Programme Média de l’Union Européenne et de Cartoon/Centre du Cinéma et de l’Audiovisuel de la Communauté Française de Belgique with the participation of Fonds National de Soutien à la Production Audiovisuelle, Luxembourg/Procirep. A Les Armateurs/ODEC Kid Cartoons/Monipoly Productions/Trans Europe Film/Studio O/France 3 Cinéma/R.T.B.F. (Télévision Belge)/Exposure co-production with the support of Fonds Eurimages du Conseil de l’Europe/Centre National de la Cinématrographie/Programme Média de l’Union Européenne et de Cartoon/Centre du Cinéma et de l’Audiovisuel de la Communauté Française de Belgique/L’Agence de Coopération Culturelle et Technique (ACCT) with the participation of Canal+/Fonds National de Soutien à la Production Audiovisuelle, Luxembourg/Procirep. A Gebeka Films release (in France) of a Les Armateurs, Odec Kid Cartoons, Monipoly, Trans Europe Film, Studio O, France 3 Cinema, RTBF, Exposure production. Executive Producer (R.T.B.F.): Arlette Zylberberg; Producers: Didier Brunner, Jacques Vercruyssen, Violette Vercruyssen-Wacha, Paul Thiltges; Associate Producer: Jacqueline Pierreux; Animation: Studio ODEC Kids Cartoons, PTD/Tiramisu Studio, Rija Film Studio, Budapest, Exist Studios; Editor: Dominique Lefever; Music: Youssou N’Dour; Sound Recording: Philippe Brun; Production Designers: Anne-Lise Koehler, Thierry Million; Voice Casting: Marie-Félicité Ebokéa

French language version voices
Doudou Gueye Thiaw (Kirikou as a baby); Maimouna Ndiaye (Kirikou’s mother); Awa Sène Sarr (Karaba the sorceress); Robert Lionsol (wise mayotnn of the mountain); William Nadylam-Yotnda; Sébastien Hébrant (Kirikou as a young man); Tshilombo Lubambu (Kirikou’s uncle); Marie Augustine Diatta (strong woman); Mouhamadou Moustapha Diop (fetish on the roof); Isseu Niang (thin woman); Selly Raby Kane (tall girl); Erick Patrick Correa (tall boy); Adjoua Barry (medium girl); Charles Edouard Gomis Correa (medium boy); Marie-Louise Shedeye Diiddi (small girl); Abdoulayé Diop Yama (old man); Joséphine Theodora Mboup (medium woman); Thiaba N’Diaye (old woman); Samba Wane (fetish)