After opening last year with In Bruges, a film packed with star power and scheduled to open in theaters the following weekend, Sundance has chosen this year to open edgy and unpredictable. It is not just that Mary and Max is an independent claymation flick from Australia, with a darkly comic theme about a lonely and misunderstood 8-year-old girl who strikes up an unlikely and disturbing correspondence and friendship with a 48-year-old overweight depressive male diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome. What was truly unexpected was the moving power of its simple message, achieved without resorting to sentimentalism or cliché.
The film, apparently based on a true story, plays like Wallace and Gromit conceived by Oliver Sacks and imagined by David Lynch and Robert Crumb. The animated characters, who tend to be overweight with exaggerated melancholy expressions, are nevertheless enormously expressive – and the film seamlessly shifts from the muted colors of the rundown Australian suburb where Mary lives to the expressive black and white of Max's New York City.
Mary (Toni Collette) is a curious and lonely girl, whose father is unavailable and whose mother is an alcoholic kleptomaniac and whose neighbors are each in their own way inscrutable. Confronted by questions the adults around her are unwilling to answer, she selects Max's name at random from an American phonebook and writes an inquisitive letter to a complete stranger. Initially thrown for a loop by this unexpected query, Max detects a kindred spirit and responds to her letter with complete sincerity. So begins a peculiar correspondence, fraught throughout with misunderstanding but culminating in a lifelong friendship that is able to carry them both through a great deal of personal misfortune and tragedy.
The voice of Phillip Seymour Hoffman invests the character of Max with a deeply sincere confusion about the peculiar games that people play. A card carrying communist and atheist, he nevertheless wears the skullcap he wore as a child, when his mother taught him babies came from egg-laying rabbis. He is honest to a fault, incapable of saying the kinds of things people like to hear; his imaginary friend, a psychiatrist by the name of Mr. Ravioli, stopped speaking to him after his real psychiatrist convinced him he was no longer necessary.
Mary and Max was dark and tender and strange and disconcerting and lovely. Its simple theme, conveyed lightly and through dark circumstance, is captured in a concluding quotation by Ethel Mumford: "God gave us relatives. Thank God we can choose our friends."
This article appears in Jan 14-20, 2009.