I first saw Amelie on an awkward date. The cinema had bean bags rather than chairs, and we were stuck right down the front with an uncomfortable view of the screen. The cinema provided a buffet meal beforehand, which gave me food poisoning. And I couldn't determine how much chemistry I had with the guy, which lead me to pay much attention to any signal he gave off, and virtually no attention to the film. These factors combined resulted in my leaving the cinema after the film with very little idea of what had transpired on the screen.
It was probably six years before I watched it again, and it may as well have been for the first time. This second viewing was far more successful. It bordered on a revelation in fact. I had been living out of home for maybe a year, and I was a bit lost. Watching a French film, on my own, by choice, made me feel oddly independent. I saw it at a time when I needed to be reminded of the beauty of the small things in life. Pretty sure that I went out and bought it immediately, and watched it again as soon as I got home. Who wouldn't?
Final Thought: Dipping one's hand in a bag of grain is marvelous.
Up Next: America's Sweethearts (2001)
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