Paloma is profoundly serious and disenchanted with the absurdity of life — exactly as you’d expect the narrator of an existentialist comedy like Le herisson (The Hedgehog) to be. She’s also 11 years old and doesn’t plan on reaching 12. She disdainfully regards adulthood as “life in the fishbowl” where humans trapped in a futile existence “bang like flies against glass” — a pretty deep (and disturbed) perspective for a little girl with an adorable mop of curly, blond hair. The youngest daughter in a wealthy Parisian family, Paloma has a goal to achieve before she commits suicide, her “Everest,” so to speak: She wants to make a film that illustrates why “life is absurd.” She turns the lens of her father’s old camera on family members, surreptitiously stalking them like exotic wildlife and documenting their behaviors with her dramatically whispered voice-over: “Solange Josse [her mother] talks to plants like people.” Solange, also fond of champagne and antidepressants, treats her neuroses like a talent, celebrating 10 years of therapy with a dinner party. Still, neither she, her older daughter Colombe, or her husband understands Paloma. In an effort to cure her eccentricity they suggest she see a psychotherapist, but Paloma sternly retorts, “only with my lawyer present.” Melancholy, misunderstood, bored, and brilliant, Paloma seems spiritually and intellectually orphaned until she meets two unexpected comrades.

The first to ruffle her cynical demeanor is new tenant Kakuro Ozu. He, along with Paloma, sees 54-year-old apartment building concierge Renee Michel for who she truly is. Renee sees herself as short, ugly, and overweight and is sure she fits the “surly stereotype” of a concierge. Or so she tells Paloma as she films her in her frumpy apartment. Yet Paloma, like Ozu, thinks otherwise. She’s a hedgehog, Paloma tells Ozu: prickly on the outside but refined and elegant on the inside. Despite their economic and social differences, Michel and Ozu soon discover they’re kindred souls. Both are widows. Both love Tolstoy and his novel Anna Karenina (he inspired their cats’ names: Michel’s Leo and Ozu’s sinuous, slate-gray felines Levin and Kitty), and they both have refined cultural tastes. The graceful Ozu delicately woos Renee with thoughtful gifts and polite invitations while she struggles with disbelief at his desire to court a hideous (in her opinion) concierge. Both take an instant liking to Paloma and the three become fast friends.

Based on the bestselling book L’elegance du herisson (The Elegance of the Hedgehog) by former philosophy teacher Muriel Barbery, director Mona Achache’s film adaptation is itself a model of elegant storytelling. The dialogue is incisively witty and intelligent, the characters are quirky and endearing, and the piano melody soundtrack subtly enchants. The perspective from Paloma’s camera is as artful as it is wickedly amusing — like Colombe filmed through a glass filling with bubbling water. The Hedgehog smacks of existentialist parable but somehow seems fresh. It’s a life-affirming story that cracks the social, economic, and physical surface that all we hedgehogs hide beneath to reveal an essential truth: In life, experience matters more than knowledge, and “what you were doing when you died” matters more than death. The Hedgehog is a timeless gem that’s deep, delightful, and dazzling.

Grade: A

Tags: seattle international film festival, siff, the hedgehog