Yes, the L’illusionniste is gorgeous, but MY GOD, I have not seen a more depressing film all year, and I just watched Winter’s Bone, in which [SPOILER ALERT] a 17-year-old girl holds her dead father’s hands — while his corpse rots in a pond — as an inbred Ozark family member chainsaws at the wrists to turn the prints over to the police so that the meth-maker’s family, including his mentally incapacitated wife and two young children, will not lose their home, which is more of a hovel than a house, with an empty fridge, next to an outdoor trampoline.

Yet, the L’illusionniste — even with its sweet physical humor and exquisite old-style animation — is more melancholy than that.

Played at the Regent Square for a bit, but is now at the Harris, downtown, till the end of the week. See it before it loses the Oscar to Toy Story 3.