I have always been of the opinion that animated films are for everyone, and this belief has only been strengthened since watching My Life in Versailles, which recently had its Australian premiere at the Children’s International Film Festival.

The 2025 French feature film has a remarkable warmth and serenity as it explores themes of grief and family against the vast backdrop of Paris, and the intricately-drawn grandeur of the Palace of Versailles. The story centres on eight-year-old Violette, who is forced to move in with her gruff uncle Regis, a cleaner at the Palace, after her parents are killed in the 2015 Paris terror attacks. They both face difficulties in their new life together, and while Violette adjusts to life as a ‘ward of the state’, Regis is forced to confront the strained relationship he has with his own parents. In the face of profound loss, the two build a life in Versailles that fosters love, friendship and personal growth over time.

Despite dealing with terrorism and complex family relationships, My Life in Versailles addresses these difficult topics with sensitivity and nuance. The film does something unique by exploring these themes in a children’s animation, yet one look at current global conflicts shows the profound effect that violence has on the lives of children, and the importance of explicitly acknowledging this reality.

It employs a charming picture-book illustrative style to capture France from a child’s point of view, making it reminiscent of hand-drawn cartoons of the 60s and 70s. Paris has many sides, from grey and alien streets to sunbathed castles as moments of light and dark coexist in a reflection of Violette’s internal experience. A core concern of the film is the tension between Violette’s childhood and the adult reality she is suddenly faced with. The film does much to emphasise Violette’s capacity to understand despite her age, and her sense of helplessness in an adult world. This is further reinforced in the film’s playful approach to visual scale, which sees adults and doorways tower over the smaller children. There is an incredible lightness to the film which shows familiar interactions between children, and with adults, as well as moments of play and adventure.

As the characters’ journeys continue, the film’s origins as first a short film then mini-series become apparent in its occasionally episodic feel. However, I feel that this doesn’t weaken the overall voice of the story as much as it contributes to a slow build that explores the ups and downs of grief through snapshots of emotion over time.

In the spaces of the Palace of Versailles and the children’s interactions with history, there is a sense of wonder and imagination that permeates the film. The palace setting isn’t dulled by Regis’ role as a maintenance worker, rather it becomes a gateway for exploration and learning, containing a friendly family of mice, a secret underground pipe system and even the ghost of Louis XIV. Even the profession of Regis and his colleagues is rendered profoundly significant as an effort to “serve history” through preservation of its architecture.

The film ends on a poignant note as it returns to the real world with Violette’s school play—a reminder of the simpler sides of childhood that continue despite her upturned life. As Violette prepares to dance as Marie Antionette, under the guidance of her uncle, she begins to find her place in the world of her peers, her adult carers and history.

My Life in Versailles suggests that grief is gradual, but stability is possible over time. It doesn’t shy away from difficult themes but simplifies them to their emotional core—something that has value for audiences of all ages. In the film, Violette says that “adult problems kind of end up as children’s problems,” and this forms the perspective that the film is ultimately built around. Perhaps, to see the world through a child’s eyes is all we really need to start building the reality we desire.