Excess Jean-Pierre Jeunet completism. An Amazon production of a book adaptation. A 10 year-old genius from somewhere in Montana rides cargo trains to Washington D.C. (via Chicago!) to receive a prize at the Smithsonian for inventing a perpetual motion machine. What is this, 1973? The style is less cluttered than his previous work (e.g. Micmacs) and closer to Wes Anderson's (e.g. The Darjeeling Limited). The sentiments are confused: imagination is a big part of science, not something that comes after it. I enjoyed Helena Bonham Carter's entomologist/mother. Judy Davis hammed it up with a poor character. Things mostly just amble along, at least more agreeably than his most recent feature, and the manifest flaws are somewhat redeemed by regular bouts of Jeunet's great visual/physical humour/levity.
Simon Abrams. Peter Bradshaw: "like drinking melted chocolate, lemon juice and bleach." Paul Bradshaw. Whimsical, twee, pointless. The last third or so drags.