The Triplets of Belleville

A five-year labor of love by French writer/director Sylvain Chomet, Triplets is a pure visual delight that ought to appeal both to young children and the snootiest of the arthouse crowd. Chomet’s warped sense of humor and sheer inventiveness keeps the film percolating with comic energy, reminding us that there’s more going on in the world of animation than Finding Nemo. The storyline is uncomplicated, the more so for being nearly dialogue-free: A champion bicyclist is kidnapped by the Mafia right in the middle of the Tour de France, and his plucky grandmother sets off to rescue him. She finds allies in three eccentric, aged jazz singers (who, in flashback, are the centerpiece of the film’s bravura opening sequence, set in a 1920s speakeasy with guest appearances by the likes of Fred Astaire and Josephine Baker). Tiny Madame Souza, only three feet tall and club-footed, makes an endearingly indomitable heroine, almost mouselike compared to the giant squarepants shape of her mobster foes. But what’s most appealing about Triplets is its propulsive sense of rhythm and musicality, which often makes the action seem like some kind of outlandish Rube Goldberg device. Lagoon, 1320 Lagoon Ave., (612) 825-6006, www.landmarktheatres.com