“Without you, today’s emotions would be the scurf of yesterday’s.” – Hipolito
I recently came across an archive video about a man who collected discarded Photo Booth photos back in the 80s. He kept finding photos of the same man across town, wondering what could be the reason behind this mysterious trail of teared up ID photos. Only to find out in the end that this ghost was no other than the Photo Booth repair man.
This story blew my mind, as I only knew it through what I presumed was the fiction of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain. Never had I imagined that the main intrigue of this whimsical film was based on a true story.
I guess that’s what’s so enchanting about Amélie Poulain, and why this film has always resonated with me: there is magic in ordinary people’s stories, you just need to spot it. And sometimes it’s up to you to sprinkle some fairy dust yourself to reveal it, just as Amélie does with everyone she encounters, and as Jean-Pierre Jeunet does with his film.
Amélie has long been a spiritual mentor of mine. I certainly relate to her sense of justice and have personally plotted to avenge wrongs in the same creative and vindictive ways she does, first as a child with her deceitful neighbour, and later on with the despicable Mr Collignon.
But here are two specific episodes of the film I just love revisiting for they inspire me greatly:
The toy box
In my last newsletter, I wrote about how you could train your senses to voluntarily trigger your involuntary memory. The flaw of that process though is that it lacks the secret ingredient that makes involuntary memory in Proust such an emotional experience, and what makes the memory box sequence so special in Amélie Poulain: surprise. I love the length to which Amélie goes to find Dominique Bretodeau (not Bredodeau), and actually “Proust” him: first, it’s the confusion he feels when finding an old yet familiar tinned box; it then shifts to the shock of rediscovering the buried stories safely kept by small forgotten toys; and finally it turns into the overwhelming and emotional realisation of the passing of Time. This event does not just bring him joy, but motivates him to live his life differently, all the while never knowing who to thank for it.
The letter
These days, it’s so rare to get anything in the mail other than gas bills and advertising leaflets that simply getting a letter from a friend is enough to put a smile on our face. So imagine getting one from a long lost lover, years after they disappeared. Now let’s switch the roles around: imagine you’re the one putting that smile on someone’s face. Sure, Amélie puts a certain amount of effort to invent a lost and found love letter, out of cut up pieces of old letters, in order to heal the broken heart of her concierge. But that’s what’s so inspiring about that episode: it’s the intention and care she’s ready to invest in making someone’s day slightly better, even by doing things as simple as tagging a wall with Hipolito’s poetry so he knows he has at least one reader.
And at the end of the day, I think that’s what creativity should be all about. It can’t just be the ability to see what others don’t. Otherwise what would be the point? It should be generous, and carry the intention to help others see the poetry and magic of their ordinary life. It’s in that regard that Amélie Poulain will always be my ultimate bible of creativity.
Be someone’s Amélie: write them a letter. Simple as that. And if you need some motivation, listen to this. Otherwise you could send them some TikTok videos specially picked for them (when you think about it, the tape recording Amélie makes out of the most entertaining clips she has spotted on TV for Mr Dufayel is basically the turn of the millenium version of TikTok curation).
Be your own Amélie: surprise yourself in a year, with a note written from your past self thanks to this tool.
Let me be your Amélie by subscribing to this newsletter :)
Images credit: Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain, Jean-Pierre Jeunet (2001)