The "oncle's" kindness is established silently as he adjusts his window so that it reflects light onto a caged bird, which starts to sing. He lives in a crumbling, old-fashioned, rickety building surrounded by similar. A window reveals people's legs as they go upstairs or wait for the bathroom to come free. His world contains inoffensive, bumbling, sweet people like the road sweeper who is always ABOUT to sweep something but has to stop and greet friends, raise his hat, let someone pass etc. Oncle's brother and sister in law live in a fearsomely modern suburb surrounded by much concrete and neighbours who try and make polite overtures among the winding paths and angular garden furniture. Yes, it's sentimental - I can't stand the gangs of cute dogs and little boys even though they reveal the liminal zone, the wasteland between old and new that's going to be all too soon filled in with more concrete structures; and for me the farcical factory scenes go on too long. But it comes to a warm-hearted climax where everyone joins in an unconscious dance: priests conga into the airport (where oncle is being packed off, probably to the colonies) and of course traffic circling a roundabout turns into a merrygoround. Who cares how often Tati repeated himself? If you like this, see the funnier, darker and sadder Playtime.