With the announcement of this year’s winners at Annecy, the jury seems to be saying it’s time for animation to stop ignoring real life. Courtesy of Annecy.

Animation is often accused of being superficial or completely juvenile. In this respect, the message sent by the Annecy festival’s jury this year seems quite clear — awarding the Cristal for Best Feature Film to the Hungarian film The District! (Nyócker!), directed by Aron Gauder is a way of saying: it is time for animation to stop ignoring real life, although that doesn’t necessarily mean that humor or style are excluded. The District! is a hip-hop style account of the rivalry between Hungarians and Romanies in the suburbs of Budapest.

In organizing the retrospectives of films inspired by the Holocaust or politically incorrect and programming the highly revealing Italian film reportage Pop (“Pace of Peace”), about a difficult project designed to promote cooperation between young Israelis and Palestinians, Serge Bromberg seems to be saying that, after almost 50 years, (the first “Annecy Festival” was actually held in … Cannes, in 1956), the long held reputation of animation as a perpetual adolescent is no longer valid. To confirm this, we heard a lot less of “le lapin! le lapin! (the rabbit) chanted by the students, although the paper airplanes they toss toward the stage had been upgraded, with new more powerful models seemingly developed especially for the occasion.

But then what can one say about the opening night featuring Bromberg’s deadpan intro about non-narrative films, followed by a lampoon short that delighted an audience that had come to see Madagascar and for whom it was really quite unnecessary to reinforce its belief that all abstract films were “tedious.”

The Cristal for Best Feature went to The District!, a hip-hop style account of the rivalry between Hungarians and Romanies in the suburbs of Budapest. © Lichthof Production.

But then that’s what Annecy is all about, a totally mixed bag.

The shorts in competition were generally felt to be of a high standard, even if, among others, Bill Plympton was offended that his film was relegated to the Panorama. Perhaps he’ll take consolation from the fact that such cruel exclusions sometimes allow opportunities for new filmmakers, most of them unknowns, to take the spotlight.

Next to such newcomers, Gil Alkabetz cuts the figure of an old master, which should not obscure his formidable talent. Morir de amor is a jewel of simplicity and intelligence, the kind of animation film that seductively confirms the specificity of the medium. That the jury didn’t choose to recognize this is of course its right, but there is no doubt that Morir de amor will go on to make a strong impression at other festivals and one hopes, beyond.