Sirocco and the Kingdom of the Winds is the best kind of surreal fairy tale

Like The Wizard of Oz, Spirited Away, Over the Garden Wall, The Boy and the Heron, and countless fairy tales before them, the French animated movie Sirocco and the Kingdom of the Winds is about children from a mundane world who stumble into a strange fantasy realm and just want to get home.

It’s a tried-and-true formula, but in the right storyteller’s hands, it can be not just the basis of wondrous adventures, but a way to dig into deeper themes like grief and sibling relationships. Director and co-writer Benoît Chieux spins up a timeless tale that also has an understated theme of love and grief flowing through it.

[Ed. note: Slight setup spoilers ahead for Sirocco and the Kingdom of the Winds.]

Sirocco kicks off when two sisters — Carmen, the responsible eldest, and Juliette, the restless youngest — visit family friend Agnès, the author of a fantasy series about the Kingdom of the Winds and a mysterious, lonely sorcerer who controls storms. While Agnès takes a quick nap, the two girls accidentally stumble into the world of her books. Oh, and also they get turned into anthropomorphized cats in the process.

Juliette is initially delighted to be in the Kingdom of the Winds — after all, she is a big fan of Agnès’ books. But they soon realize it won’t be so easy to get home, especially after they accidentally anger the local mayor, a froglike creature who isn’t pleased with these strange cat sisters. They find an ally in beautiful avian opera singer Selma, who shares a special connection with Agnès. The three of them trek across the kingdom to ask the powerful, dangerous wizard Sirocco for help.

No matter where the sisters go or who they meet, there’s a level of wonder for both them and the audience. The first town the girls visit looks like an M.C. Escher cityscape, dressed up in saturated colors. Selma travels via a floating opera house, which billows through the bright blue skies. The character design is also vibrant and distinct, from the graceful, swanlike, humanoid Selma to the enigmatic Sirocco, a bulky yet billowing figure all wrapped up in scarves and layers.

The fact that the movie has its own unique look — not chasing Studio Ghibli, Disney Animation, or any other familiar tentpole — bolsters that sense of wonder. The palette is distinctive, all bright, bold, almost completely solid blocks of color. It’s deceptively simple, but plays into a dreamy, otherworldly effect, almost like a Salvador Dalí painting. Chieux says he was influenced by the works of science fiction artist Moebius and the Yellow Submarine animated movie. The retro, almost trippy visuals certainly evoke those inspirations.

But the movie’s totally surreal look is anchored in the realistic relationship between Juliette and Carmen, and the deeper themes threaded throughout the rest of the movie. Like the best fairy tales, Sirocco and the Kingdom of the Winds isn’t just about a couple of kids trying to get home; it’s about the bonds of sisterhood, the unconditional love between siblings, and how that love can transform grief. The themes aren’t overt, which serves the story well: They’re subtle enough not to be overly didactic, but still strong enough to give the movie and the world something solid, lest the wild, whimsical winds blow it all away.

Sirocco and the Kingdom of the Winds is a fairy tale similar to many others, but it’s also its own uniquely beautiful thing. It’s visually captivating from the very first moment, and the slow burn of the underlying themes builds in a particularly sublime and subtle way. It never overpowers the core adventure, the childhood storybook tale of two girls trying to get home, but it does add a certain bittersweet tinge to the movie, one that elevates it from a simple sparkly trinket into a valuable glimmering jewel.

Sirocco and the Kingdom of the Winds is available to rent digitally on YouTube, Amazon, and Apple TV.