The Five Lionni Classics: A Bridge Between Children
What survives is what we pass on—with love, imagination, and glue.
Among the many animated stories I’ve shared with my children—once in the early 2000s, and now again in 2025—there’s a quiet little series that continues to speak louder than most: The Five Lionni Classics.
These short films, nearly forgotten amid the swirl of modern content and computer-generated animation, carry a kind of wisdom and invitation that feels more urgent than ever. Originally produced by Italian Swiss Television in 1986, they bring to life five of Leo Lionni’s beloved books—stories that, though simple on the surface, invite children to imagine a kinder, fairer, more creative world.
The first two, Swimmy and Frederick, were made much earlier—in 1967—through a remarkable collaboration between American author and illustrator Leo Lionni and Italian filmmaker Giulio Gianini. Using découpage animation—a slow, tactile technique—they transformed Lionni’s illustrations into beautiful, vivid motion. These films were first presented at the National Institute of Design in Ahmedabad, India—a detail I’ve always loved, adding yet another layer of cross-cultural care to their origins.
Watching these films again—now with my second child—felt like rereading an old letter I once wrote to myself. The animation is slow, handcrafted, and beautifully imperfect. There are no flashy edits or fast-paced jokes. Just paper, color, silence, and truth. These stories don’t aim to entertain in the modern sense—they gently prepare children for being human. For belonging. For noticing what matters.
Each one carries a lesson, though never in a didactic way. They unfold like quiet invitations: to think, to wonder, to care. And somehow, across decades, they’ve meant something to both of my children—one born in the age of VHS tapes, the other in the world of tablets and streaming.
Swimmy. The importance of courage and strength
A black fish, the only survivor of a predator attack, learns not just how to survive—but how to lead. He teaches a new school of goldfish to swim as one, forming the shape of a giant fish, with him as the eye. A lesson in solidarity, courage, and the strength that lives in difference.
Frederick. Survival through the power of creativity
While the other mice prepare for winter by gathering food, Frederick collects colors, words, and sunshine. When the supplies run out, it’s his poetry that keeps them warm. A quiet celebration of inner life—and how imagination can sustain us when little else remains.
It’s Mine! What’s mine is ours: learning to live together
Three bickering frogs, each claiming ownership of everything around them, are forced to face a flood together. In their struggle, they learn that nothing truly belongs to one alone—and that cooperation is the only way to build something lasting.
Cornelius. The quiet strength of standing apart
Cornelius, a crocodile who walks upright, is mocked by his peers. Frustrated, he walks away—and learns new skills from a monkey: standing on his head, hanging by his tail. Eventually, the others begin to follow. A story about making space for difference, and the quiet power of leading by example.
A Fish is a Fish. Being yourself is a beautiful thing
A tadpole becomes a frog and leaves the pond, returning with stories of the world beyond. But the fish, unable to imagine a world he’s never seen, tries to leap from the water—nearly dying in the attempt. Rescued, he realizes that embracing who he is, as he is, is more than enough.
And so, decades apart, my children—one born in 1998, the other in 2023—have sat beside me, eyes wide, watching cut-paper fish and frogs and crocodiles move across the screen. I like to think they’re seeing more than just stories. They’re glimpsing how to be in the world.
I hope you’ll find a moment to watch these gentle classics with the children in your life. Maybe, like me, you’ll discover that the quiet stories from long ago still hold the power to teach us how to be kinder, braver, and more connected—across generations, and across time.