Claude Barras’ *My Life as a Zucchini* (2016), a Swiss-French stop-motion gem, unfolds with a delicate ferocity that captures the bruised heart of childhood. Adapted from Gilles Paris’ novel, this 66-minute marvel navigates the lives of orphaned children with an authenticity that sidesteps melodrama, offering a lens into resilience without saccharine gloss. Barras’ direction is a masterclass in economy, using minimalist storytelling to amplify emotional depth. The screenplay, penned by Céline Sciamma, balances raw vulnerability with fleeting moments of joy, crafting dialogue that feels overheard rather than scripted. Its restraint never over-explaining the children’s pain trusts the audience to feel the weight of their unspoken histories.

The stop-motion animation, with its textured clay figures and soft, muted palette, is a visual triumph. Cinematographer David Toutevoix employs close-ups that linger on wide, expressive eyes, making each character’s inner world palpable. The tactile quality of the puppets slightly imperfect, with visible seams mirrors the children’s own fragility, a subtle nod to their fractured lives. Yet, this aesthetic choice also grounds the film in a warmth that counters its heavier themes, like a hearth glowing in a cold room. The snowy Swiss orphanage, both stark and intimate, becomes a character itself, its confined spaces fostering unexpected camaraderie.

Acting, primarily through voice work, is understated yet piercing. The young French cast, including Gaspard Schlatter as Zucchini, delivers performances that feel unpolished in the best way raw, like children speaking from the heart. Their voices carry the weight of abandonment without theatricality, making moments of connection, like Zucchini’s bond with Camille, profoundly moving. The score by Sophie Hunger, with its gentle acoustic strains, weaves a thread of hope through the narrative, though its sparing use ensures it never overshadows the story’s quiet power.

If the film falters, it’s in its brevity. At just over an hour, certain secondary characters like the kind but underdeveloped teacher feel like sketches rather than fully realized figures. This lean runtime, while disciplined, occasionally leaves the audience craving deeper exploration of the ensemble’s inner lives. Still, *My Life as a Zucchini* triumphs as a poignant study of healing, its stop-motion heart beating with a rare, unspoken courage that lingers long after the credits roll.