animation

This year’s Christmas Day kids story is The Scarecrow’s Wedding but the story had to be changed for TV

Author Julia Donaldson has told how she had to rewrite one of her best selling books in order to get the green light for it to be turned into a BBC animation for Christmas Day.

This year millions will settle down to watch The Scarecrows’ Wedding, the latest adaptation of Julia Donaldson and illustrator Axel Scheffler’s stories which have become a festival staple.

The half-hour animated special features an all-star voice cast, with Gavin and Stacey star Rob Brydon voicing Reginald Rake, Hamnet actress Jessie Buckley as Betty O’Barley, and The Paper star Domhnall Gleeson as Harry O’Hay.

The story, about two devoted scarecrows Betty and Harry planning a wedding to remember, will be narrated by Slow Horses actress Sophie Okonedo.

But Julia revealed for the first time in 13 adaptations that she needed to make big changes to the storyline because it originally featured sinister scarecrow Reginald Rake smoking a cigar and accidentally starting a fire in the field.

Julia said: “There had to be a fire in the story and the water was going to put out the fire, so I had to think of reasons for the fire.

“In the book, the fire is started by Reginald Rake through smoking. I thought that was really good because it shows him in a really bad light. He is a baddie and he is smoking and in the original book Betty says ‘smoking is bad for you’ and he gets a terrible cough and starts a fire so it shows how bad smoking is.

“But apparently in the world of children’s films you are not allowed to show anyone smoking. I personally think it would be better for children to come across smoking in a film or a book and then their parents can talk about it and say it is not a great thing, rather than see someone in a doorway.”

Julia was then asked by Magic Light Pictures who animate her stories if she “would consider” changing this one over lunch.

She added: “I said ‘absolutely not’ and then went home and went straight to the computer because by that stage we had the pictures and I knew Betty had a pink dress and Reginald had the white suit, so I thought he could start the fire by cooking something and then I thought of pink and white marshmallows. I wrote it and I think it works really well that way. I am sorry in a way to lose the smoking but I think marshmallows do work well.”

The Scarecrows’ Wedding was first published in 2014 and book versions still contain Reginald choking on a cigar.

Asked about the creation of the characters, Julia added: “I was looking for a female character because previously it was Zog and Highway Rat and lots of male characters. So Betty was the first character that came to mind.

“It took me ages to write because I had to send Harry off on a journey and it took a long time to work out that part of the storyline.

“In a way it is a Hollywood love story and it is very much like a light Italian opera where there is a humble peasant boy and girl and then a peddler comes along and almost seduces the heroine. I was thinking along those lines.”

The animation means Rob Brydon will be back on BBC1 on Christmas Day, having been one of the star’s of Gavin & Stacey last year. He has also been voicing Julia’s characters since they first started being made into animations.

On playing the cad in the story, Rob: “There is a hint of Leslie Phillips and that sort of thing, just natural and instinctive. As ever it is just a delight to be part of such a quality venture.

“This is one of my favourites because I have not played this sort of role in Julia’s world. I am normally nice.”

Last year’s animation, Tiddler, saw an audience of 7.3 million and the highest audience share on Christmas Day for a Magic Light Pictures film since The Gruffalo in 2009.

The Gruffalo will return in book form in 2026 but Julia was keeping tight-lipped about the details.

She said: “I am not allowed to say very much. I can say I finished writing it early last year and it is coming out in the Autumn next year, that is really all I can say.”

* The Scarecrow’s Wedding will air on BBC iPlayer and BBC One this Christmas Day.

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It’s the one-two punch of an earthquake and a piece of scrumptious white chocolate from Belgium, a country famous for its sweet confections, that awakens 2½-year-old Amélie (voiced by Loïse Charpentier) to the wondrous and perilous world around her.

Rambunctious and astute, the toddler heroine of the sublimely beautiful animated film “Little Amélie or the Character of Rain” first communicates in voiceover from the void of nothingness before birth. She declares herself a powerful deity and explains that God is essentially a “tube” that constantly ingests and secretes experiences and things. That description could also apply to human existence in a general sense if you take away the philosophical complications that give us meaning. (We are, thankfully, more than all-consuming vessels.)

But until she’s stirred by the earthquake and chocolate, Amélie refuses to engage with reality, observing without making any effort to move or talk, as if displeased with having been born. Her absolutist views of what it means to be alive slowly peel away in the life-affirming first feature from co-directors Liane-Cho Han and Maïlys Vallade, a screen adaptation of Amélie Nothomb’s autobiographical 2000 novel “The Character of Rain,” popular in French-speaking countries.

Akin to impressionistic paintings, the animation here decidedly lacks intricate designs and opts for flat hues coloring figures without visible outlines. The stylistic choices result in a striking, distinctly pictorial aesthetic in line with earlier projects that Han and Vallade worked on, such as “Long Way North” and “Calamity,” both directed by Rémi Chayé.

The third child of a Belgian family living in 1960s Japan, young Amélie develops an endearing relationship with housekeeper Nishio-san (Victoria Grobois). While her parents have their hands full with her older siblings, Amélie explores nature and becomes enamored with Japanese culture. That the affectionate Nishio-san doesn’t impose her perspective on the girl, but quite literally tries to perceive each moment from her height, signals a bond that’s closer to one between mutuals.

It’s through Amélie’s gaze — or, more precisely, how these filmmakers interpret it visually — that we begin to understand her invigorating whimsy. Early on, it seems like her rapidly changing moods affect the weather; later, Amélie steps into the ocean and it parts as it did for Moses (if only in her restless imagination). A person her age is inherently self-centered, unaware that she is part of a bigger whole.

To illustrate Nishio-san’s account of how she lost her family during World War II, animators Han and Vallade zero in on the dish she is cooking: Chopped vegetables fall into a pot like missiles, a gust of pot steam represents a fiery aftermath, rice under water shows how Nishio-san had to dig her way out of being buried alive. The gruesome subject matter is translated into immediate household imagery that someone Amélie’s age could grasp.

When Nishio-san shares with Amélie that the Japanese word “ame” means rain (so close to her own name), the girl takes this as confirmation that her kinetic, unbridled and visceral impulses are natural. Her feelings of kinship with precipitation are transmuted into a delightfully conceived scene in which little versions of Amélie appear inside every falling raindrop. These fanciful instances benefit from Mari Fukuhara’s score, a drizzle of aural luminosity.

Amélie’s rowdy approach becomes more nuanced when she is confronted with a loved one’s death, as well as her own mortality in the aftermath of two accidents. Han and Vallade also make room for her realizations about life’s unfairness and the inevitability of sorrow — all communicated via flights of fancy that only animation can materialize.

In turn, it comes as a shock for Amélie to learn that she is not Japanese, even if that’s the country she considers home. Her future may be determined by Kashima-san (Yumi Fujimori), the landlady who owns the house Amélie’s family is renting and who brought Nishio-san on to help them. Kashima-san distrusts westerners — her wounds of wartime haven’t healed — and to see Nishio-san smitten with Amélie feels like a betrayal.

The larger implications of her presence escape the little one, but the fact that Amélie, even at her age, is able to empathize with Kashima-san’s despair speaks to the thematic richness and emotional maturity that Han and Vallade channel in their brisk, arresting feature. The gently transcendent, tear-inducing conclusion that “Little Amélie” reaches suggests that memory serves as our only remedy for loss. As long as we don’t forget, what we cherish won’t become ephemeral.