Nestled among the cooking rats and surfing penguins that comprise the bulk of the Academy of Arts and Sciences nominees for Best Animated Feature sits a French film based on an Iranian author’s graphic novel telling the story of a young girl growing up in a country torn by war and intolerance. Don’t let the animation fool you. “Persepolis” isn’t kiddie fare, but it is one of the best films of the year.

For those who don’t live in select cities or attend film festivals, the nomination of “Persepolis” might come as a shock, but for many who have seen Vincent Paronnaud’s and Marjane Satrapi’s animated film the recognition will come as no surprise. Having more in common with “Maus” than “Shrek,” “Persepolis” uses a genre normally associated with children’s fare to tell a story normally reserved for history books or documentaries.

The film is animated in a clean, simple black and white style that evokes Satrapi’s graphic novel and adds movement to it. The lack of color might have made a work with a lesser screenplay seem too bleak, but “Persepolis” retains (astoundingly) the air of wonder of its child protagonist even when depicting the most oppressive of circumstances.

That girl’s name is also Marjane, and the autobiographical inference is strictly intentional. Satrapi tells the story of her childhood, and it is that childhood that comprises the bulk of the plot. The story of her personal life is foregrounded, but the political world that shaped it is never far from view. Satrapi’s life overlaps with twenty of the most tumultuous years in the history of Iran. The film begins as the Islamic revolution throws the world the young girl knows into turmoil and concludes as the young woman who has grown up buffeted by history leaves her country for the second time. Satrapi has said in recent interview, most noticeably on the American television show “The Colbert Report,” that she hopes the film (and her graphic novels) will put a human face and a too often dehumanized enemy and make war seem a less palatable option.

If that makes “Persepolis” sound too much like a civics lesson or sermon, don’t worry. The film is full of funny moments such as Marjane singing “Eye of the Tiger” or God sighing at the zealotry of Karl Marx who is a bit too enthusiastic in imploring Marjane to keep up that fight that he fails to notice his burden isn’t all that easy nor his burden particularly light. Despite its depiction of many who represent humanity at its worst, the film deftly avoids taking on an air of moral self-congratulation. Unlike propaganda, which is afraid to show the warts of those with which it sympathizes, good art is capable of showing the flaws of those it depicts while still retaining empathy. Marjane must learn to negotiate arbitrary and mostly hypocritical rules, to play the game, without becoming cynical or jaded.

Perhaps no film in recent years captures the sense of alienation felt by refugees as the very concept of “home” becomes a painful reminder to them of the fractured loyalties their fractured hearts feel at trying to reconcile the deep affinity one has for a place one associates with the people one loves while trying to repress the pain and fear associated with that which the same place has now become.

“Persepolis” may be a hard sell to American audiences grown weary of its own war and anxious for more escapist fare. The cooking rats and surfing penguins that comprise “Persepolis”’s competition for Academy honors have made a lot of money by allowing people to forget for a few hours the things “Persepolis” suggests they might not have yet thought enough about. It may be too much to ask Americans to fall in love with a little Iranian girl whose biggest dreams include being the next Bruce Lee or finding a bootleg copy of Iron Maiden’s latest CD. It may be…but I hope it isn’t.

"Persepolis" is playing at the Galaxy Theater in Cary.