I saw Klaus for the first time this week and I highly doubt it will be the last. I don't mean the last time either, I plan to present it to my parents tomorrow at Christmas.
Written and directed by Sergio Pablos, Klaus is a debut film worth celebrating. With a rich history in 2D and 3D animated films, including The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hercules, Tarzan and Me, Ugly and Wicked, this is the first film from Pablos' new company, Sergio Pablos Animation Studios.
I know I'm a little late for this party. Klaus came to Netflix in 2019 and charmed everyone who saw it, but I'm not always the type to love Christmas movies so I totally missed it. Too many times I've been burned by predictable stories, cookie-cutter characters and clenched-fist pop tunes to put my faith in something new.
That's not to say that, to some extent, Klaus doesn't have all of these things. However, there is something incredibly charming about the way the film brings them all together to create something totally original and moving.
So buckle up, because I'm about to show you why Klaus is the movie to watch this year.
Dear Santa Claus
Klaus tells the story of the origin of Christmas cards, but not in the way you might think.
The film begins in a grandiose postal service center, where we meet our protagonist, Jesper, the spoiled son of the Royal Postmaster General. Jesper, prone to walking away from all responsibilities, spent his time at the Postman Training Academy, getting plenty of rest and little to no training.
Instead of doing his antics as Jesper had hoped, Jesper's father sends his son to faraway Smeerensburg, a desolate island based on the now-abandoned Dutch whaling town of Smeerenburg. He gives Jesper an ultimatum: mail sixty thousand letters in one year, or you will be financially excluded from the family fortune.
Upon arrival, Jesper finds a city divided into two factions; the Ellingboes and the Krums. These two family clans have been engaged in all-out war, seemingly since the dawn of time, dragging the city into a state of perpetual decline.
This, coupled with the illiteracy of much of the town's inhabitants due to their refusal to provide their children with an education for fear of their mixing with the opposing clan, makes Jesper's mission nearly impossible. Alva, a teacher turned fishmonger, aggravates the situation, exasperated by her own inability to change the minds of the inhabitants.
That is until Jesper meets Klaus, a towering and mysterious lumberjack who lives in the woods and has a penchant for making toys.
Together, the unlikely pair start an unintended revolution among the town's children, and in doing so forge the tradition of writing letters to Santa Claus.
A history of tradition
One of the best things the film does is take tradition and turn it on its head when necessary.
In case you haven't guessed, the character of Klaus is the great man himself, but not as we generally know him. Instead of magical powers and a cheerful disposition, Klaus presents himself as a stoic and thoughtful man, that's not to say that's all there is to him, but expanding on his past gives spoilers that I'd like to know about. . to go our separate ways.
There's a significant lack of magic in Klaus and Jesper's gift-giving antics, with much of the Santa Klaus lore forged by coincidence and hearsay, but this charming reimagining of the Santa Klaus legacy adds to the film's quality.
Then there is the inclusion of the Sámi, the indigenous inhabitants of the Sápmi region, formerly known as Lapland.
We first meet Márgu, an unbearably cute girl who joins the children of Smeerensberg as they wait for Jesper at the post office every day. Speaking only in her native language, Márgu struggles to express to Jesper her desire to join in the fun, until Alva steps in to help.
This leads Jesper and Klaus to meet up with his family in their neighboring settlement, where an act of kindness brings the Sami people to their aid, reimagining Santa's elven helpers and bringing the rich history and tradition of the Sami into the fold.
Even the film's art style evokes tradition, combining hand-drawn elements with new lighting technology to give the entire film a painterly, storybook feel, without the restrictions created by traditional 2D animation. The darkness and gloom of the city contrast beautifully with the toys delivered by Klaus and Jesper, the bright traditional clothing of the Sami, and the transformation that Smeerensberg undergoes as the locals forge new Christmas traditions.
find your family
Klaus, at its core, is a movie about family, not just the family we grew up with, but the family we chose.
It's not that the movie sets this as a goal, or that any particular character strives to achieve it from the start. Each complete character has a balance. Klaus isolates himself from the world, preferring the company of his ax and his numerous nest boxes. Jesper does not swear allegiance to his own family, caring more about a life of luxury than the interests of... well, anyone else. Alva has lost sight of her dreams, even resenting the children of Smeerensburg, and she hoards her meager income from a fishmonger to flee the city as quickly as possible.
Even children do not present unity or progression as a goal. In fact, for much of the movie, his only interests are writing letters to Klaus to receive one of his amazing toys.
Instead, the film shows us that when we give each other kindness, even if it is a form of receiving gifts, in the case of the children of the city, the union and the creation of a new family is inevitable.
Over the past two years, many of us have missed our loved ones and in doing so have joined friends, neighbors, and even co-workers for spirits and balance.
Seeing Klaus reminded me that, in the face of everything, your family can be so much more than those you're related to. If there's a dry eye in the house after looking at Klaus, I'd be surprised.