In Thelma’s Perfect Birthday, the titular young penguin, living in an icy world, has high hopes for her upcoming birthday, but nothing goes according to plan. Still, what looks like an absolute disaster can still turn into a wonderful adventure in this animated feature by Reinis Kalnaellis, shown in Annecy Presents at the Annecy Film Festival.  

Cineuropa: The look of Thelma’s Perfect Birthday brings to mind old children’s books. There’s something very retro and nostalgic about it.
Reinis Kalnaellis: Exactly – we wanted it to feel like a warm memory from childhood. The visual style is inspired by watercolours and soft colour pencil textures. At some point in life, every one of us has touched these. We wanted to capture something timeless here, something that doesn’t scream out for attention, but instead invites you to quietly enter her world. I wanted Thelma’s world to feel fragile, gentle and real, as if it’s drawn right from the pages of a colouring book you once loved but forgot you actually still remember.

The story, while simple enough for children to follow, feels relatable. As adults, we also deal with anxiety and pressure, and we want everything to be perfect. Why were you interested in this?
I feel it myself. This pressure to be perfect, to meet expectations, to not fail… It doesn’t disappear when we grow up. In some ways, it gets heavier. Telling a story that starts out as a child’s birthday adventure but really speaks about that inner anxiety felt meaningful. And if kids can already learn that it’s okay not to be perfect – and that your worth isn’t tied to how smoothly things go – then maybe the burden we carry in life can become a bit lighter.

Can you tell us more about this blonde penguin? She cares so much about what others think. Do you think it’s important to repeat, once again: “You need to calm down”? We don’t have to please everybody.
Absolutely. Thelma is a little nervous, a little too eager to do things the “right” way. She wants to be liked, to belong, and she thinks she must earn it by being flawless, by being a perfect friend or a perfect daughter. But that’s exhausting. She has this naïve stubbornness that leads her into situations she can only grow from. Her journey isn’t about becoming fearless or perfect; it’s about letting go. You can learn to like yourself, even when you’re not at your best. 

When you are developing animated projects, what’s crucial to you? Do you think about the international audience from the start?
What’s crucial is emotional clarity. The feelings need to ring true, even to a child. I don’t begin by having an international audience in mind – I start with the core emotion. But if it’s honest enough, I believe it travels. Children around the world feel fear, love, joy and shame. Those sentiments build real bridges. Visuals help as well, but if you get the emotion right, the story will find its way. 

Are there things that are close to your heart, like certain visual styles or types of storytelling? Animated films tend to stay with us longer – these are the movies we show to the next generation.
Animation has always felt like home to me, probably because I was literally raised around it. My father has been a film producer since I was a baby, so some of my earliest and most vivid memories are of visiting him at work, walking through studios filled with puppets and storyboards, with this quiet sense of magic being made. It was exciting, mysterious and oddly comforting, like peeking behind the curtain of a fairy tale.

I spent time around legendary places like the Animācijas Brigāde [founded in 1966] and Dauka animation studios, and I was absolutely in love with Little Mole by Zdeněk Miler. These experiences didn’t just entertain me; they shaped my idea of storytelling. Even though my latest film has dialogue, my relationship with animation has always been emotional. What I love most is its quiet power: the ability to speak without saying a word, to build imaginary spaces that somehow feel more honest than reality. I’m drawn to soft stories, not loud ones – those that echo in your memory long after the screen fades to black. I truly believe animated films become a part of our emotional memory, especially the ones we watch as children. That’s why I feel a responsibility – and a deep gratitude – to be part of that invisible library we all carry inside.