And now for something completely different — an art-film creation that’s a surreal delight. Jean-François Laguionie’s allegorical animated fable extends what conventional, ‘organic’ animation could do in 1985. The still images alone fire the imagination. It’s an art-house short subject writ large, that we’re grateful to have seen, especially so handsomely remastered in 4K Ultra HD. Thanks Deaf Crocodile!

Gwen and the Book of Sand 4K
4K Ultra HD + Region A Blu-ray
Deaf Crocodile
1985 / Color / 1:37 Academy / 64 min. / Gwen, le livre de sable / Street Date June 10, 2025 / Available from The Deaf Crocodile Shop / 49.95
Starring: Lorella Di Cicco, Michel Robin, Armand Babel, Raymond Jourdan, Saïd Amadis, Bertrand Bautheac, Jacques Bouvier, Jacques Ruisseau.
Camera operators: Gilles Burgard, Patrick Darlot, Gérard Soirant
Character director: Nicole Dufour
Animators: Henri Heidsieck, Claude Luyet, Francine Léger, Claude Rocher
Background artist: Bernard Palacios
Maquette sculptor: Marc Quitté
Film Editor: Hélène Arnal
Composer: Pierre Alrand
Original scenario by Jean-Paul Gaspari, Jean-François Laguionie
Produced and Directed by Jean-François Laguionie

… were words heard often in our college days. In Westwood in 1971-72, we’d hear similar phrases from upscale hippie types coming out of pictures as different as  Walkabout,  Glen and Randa and  El Topo. All that was necessary was a theme opposing consumer values, or against what was deemed as crass Hollywood product. But that didn’t rule out attendance at the Plaza or the Regent for  Harold and Maude, where attendees grooved on the soundtrack by Cat Stevens. And many remembers trips to the Cinerama Dome for  2001: A Space Odyssey or  Fantasia, both of which were reissued with ‘head trip’ advertising. Attend, and you’d come home with the smell of marijuana on your clothes.

Foreign animation short subjects served as the icing on the cake for art film theaters, a warm-up for Fellini or Bergman. The first, and almost only, films we saw from behind the Iron Curtain were clever animation shorts from Czechoslovakia and Poland. French animated features didn’t circulate here much until  Fantastic Planet in 1973. We liked it. Its Roland Topor artwork was interesting, even if the actual animation seemed minimal. It certainly qualified as a semi-abstract Head Trip event.

Deaf Crocodile has just released an unusual French animated feature from 1985. Had it appeared a decade earlier, before Spielberg and Lucas made the film market tougher on odd independents and weird foreign pictures, I think it might have made a splash. It’s as short as a French film can be and still be classified as a feature; director Jean-François Laguionie dedicated four years to its making. His earlier short films had less chance of being screened, in the new era of multi-plex theater exhibition.

The good news is that Laguionie’s Gwen and the Book of Sand is like nothing we’ve seen, not even after 25 years of computer animation. Devotees of organic animation techniques will be dazzled by its unique style and artful execution. It will appeal strongly to those looking for an experience that can be called inspirational, meditative, contemplative. The filmmaker frequently describes the result as surreal. Some definitions apply, but his film doesn’t share surrealism’s disruptive aspect. It doesn’t aim to ‘demolish conventional reality.’

Essayist Jennifer Lynde Barker rightly defines it as simply an ‘animated French philosophical fable,’ even if the philosophical content boils down to two or three poetic statements. It’s common for defenders of art films without bold characters or a complex plot to emphasize ‘mood’ and poetic imagery. Seen in Blu-ray or 4K, Gwen and the Book of Sand’s visuals make plot complications and character depth seem less necessary. We instead soak up the film’s textures and entrancing, unusual animation, as if becoming acquainted with a new kind of movie. More on this a little farther below.

Gwen and the Book of Sand maroons us on a desert planet, which appears to be a post-apocalyptic Earth. The narrator is Roseline, a 173-year-old woman in a society of nomads that walk the sand on stilts (?).  ^*  They glide above the dunes in search of ostriches — whose feathers provide sustenance. Butterflies and scorpions glow at night like fireflies, providing the light in Japanese-style lanterns. It is said that the gods have deserted the planet, leaving behind a strange, absurd landscape. The nomads take cover when objects tumble from the sky, ordinary things like eyeglasses, a bicycle, and shoes — but giant-sized. Is Rosalie one of a race of Lilliputians?

The story catalyst is a young heroine, Gwen, who drifts into the nomad tribe but retains her independent ways. She forms a relationship with a curious, pale young man, Nokmoon — who subsequently disappears, apparently taken by unknown people that live in the forbidden citadel called the Makou — or are the inhabitants themselves called the Makou?  Instead of passively accepting what has happened, Roseline and Gwen set out to bring Nokmoon back.

Let’s leave the mystery of the Makou up in the air. Gwen and the Book of Sand is much like Glen and Randa in that the human survivors have lost all memory of and connection to the pre-apocalyptic world. Rosaline tries to convince Gwen that the saucer-like lights that move in the say are not a threat. Most of the nomads hide from them, but Rosalie theorizes that they are automated entertainment performing for the old rulers, an audience that left long ago.

The inhabitants of the Makou have created their own religion, one based on a  Zardoz– like artifact. But there are more unexplainable phenomena. The Makou-ites can see Nokmoon’s dreams … and their collective singing of prayers can apparently create physical objects … presumably those collections of ordinary, but giant, objects that just fall out of nowhere.

Director Laguionie does offer some sequences with faster action, and very intricate, finely crafted animation, such as in the opening ostrich hunt. When he uses full animation the effect is entrancing, but it took his crew years to complete the film. Walt Disney could give his  Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs such three-dimensional detail only because the Depression economy provided him with hundreds of employees willing to work for low non-union wages. Laguionie also makes good use of stillness and minimalist imagery. We’re now accustomed to animation that relies on stasis with only minimal movement. In Gwen something is always happening — colors change with a rising sun, or the perspective changes focus.

Deaf Crocodile’s extras partly explain what makes Gwen and the Book of Sand look so rich. Laguionie’s essay reports that his engineer Patrick Darlot built a multi-plane camera, with all planes moveable in three dimensions. This accounts for the beautiful feeling of depth in so many images.  ↑  Artist Bernard Palacios’s gouache-opaque watercolor backgrounds integrate perfectly with spindly-thin characters drawing water from a well, or chasing an ostrich on stilts. We’re not watching conventional cel animation. Instead of being painted on cels, which always add imperfections to the animation, the characters were drawn on paper, painted, cut out frame by frame, and then animated on the clear glass panes of the multi-plane camera.

That process is incredibly labor-intensive, but the end result is fairly amazing. The motion of objects and characters is smooth and flicker-free, so much so that we wonder how much rotoscoping was used. The images are so clear and vibrant, we’re almost relieved to occasionally notice a hair in the film gate … proving what we’re seeing was filmed with a camera. A look at the images reproduced here gives an inkling of the visual quality — interesting compositions, with a fine sense of scale; characters deep in shadow but with expressive detail. The film does create dramatic depth directly from its visual surface.

We were particularly taken by the film’s take on what might be a sex scene — the amorphous images of Gwen and Nokmoon turning, embracing are marvelously expressive.

Jean-François Laguionie says that he took Gwen and the Book of Sand to festivals, but we only see it picking up full distribution in France and Japan. 1985 was a year of star-driven big movies like Out of Africa and action-oriented genre pictures — although Geoff Murphy’s  The Quiet Earth would seem compatible with Laguionie’s absurd, contemplative worldview. Gwen plays out like a meditation, a calming influence, and its conclusion arrives without a hint of trendy nihilism. It’s just special enough — and uniquely beautiful — to finally win the audience it deserves.

Deaf Crocodile’s 4K Ultra HD + Region A Blu-ray of Gwen and the Book of Sand looks extremely good in both formats. The artwork designs and animation may not ‘mesmerize’ everyone as it did us, but viewers sensitive to artistic distinction will see its superior qualities. We admit to not knowing the name Jean-François Laguionie, but this show puts him on the radar. His show is a genuine idyll … the level of artistic / technical finesse is such that we don’t spin our mental wheels analyzing its technique. It just ‘is.’

The 4K encoding gives the show an extra kick, perhaps even improving the image over what 35mm prints would deliver. It retains a ‘film look’ — a very RICH film look — so who’s complaining?  The director chose to film with the 1:37 Academy aspect ratio, which in 1985 wasn’t compatible with many American multiplex screens. It looks fine pillarboxed on the widescreen TVs of today. The 5.1 audio overlays a rich soundtrack as well. The music of Pierre Alrand adds another dimension. Gwen makes herself a little stringed instrument, and we hear its odd sound more than once.

Deaf Crocodile again calls on Samm Deighan to provide an informed and perceptive audio commentary. She begins with the observation that nothing in the very allegorical Gwen is inappropriate for children … although some adults may see a critical comment in the ignorant worship of the Makou, or object to the overall concept of an existence ruled by undefined threats. Many kids will not respond to a show so far away from the commercial norm, plain and simple. Ms Deighan makes a case for ‘art house animation’ as a movement separate from consumer-oriented cartoon fantasies.

A visual essay by Dr. Will Dodson and Ryan Verrill takes a poetic-analytic approach, adding its own interpretation to the film. Deaf Crocodile’s Dennis Bartok lays down an oral history document, in a 65-minute interview with director Jean-François Laguionie. The exchange plays slowly due to making time and space for a translator to repeat phrases in English and French.

We really appreciate the 56-page insert book, which is loaded with good information. Director Laguionie gives a fascinating and detailed account of the movie’s production — it was created by 9 collaborative animation experts in a small town far in the French countryside. Several found property and stayed there permanently, as if the film had shown them a new lifestyle away from Paris.

Reviewed by Glenn Erickson

Gwen and the Book of Sand
4K Ultra HD + Region A Blu-ray rates:
Movie: Excellent
Video: Excellent
Sound: Excellent DTS-HD 5.1 French
Supplements:
Audio commentary by Samm Deighan
Video essay The Language of the Sands by Ryan Verrill and Dr. Will Dodson (25 minutes)
Zoom discussion with Jean-François Laguionie, moderated by Dennis Bartok (65 minutes).
Deaf and Hearing-impaired Friendly? YES; Subtitles: English (feature only)
Packaging: One 4K Ultra HD disc + one Blu-ray in one keep case plus booklet in hard box
Reviewed: July 3, 2025
(7351gwen)

^*  The images of the stilt walkers — the animation is so smooth — remind us in some way of the ‘War Boys’ in George Miller’s  Mad Max Fury Road, who ride tall poles attached to crazy vehcles — bodies suspended in the sky above the desert sand.

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