Tag: anime

Review: Ghost Cat Anzu

If mainstream Japanese animation is anything to go by, every school-aged child seems destined to experience their seminal coming-of-age moments through a magical being during an extended summer stay with relatives. This is familiar ground for directors Nobuhiro Yamashita and Yoko Kuno, who revisit themes explored in their 2020 collaborative short film, Lucky Owl with Shimako.

Based on Takashi Imashiro’s serialised manga, the film is set in the coastal inlet of Iketeru, winkingly dubbed the “town of eternal summer.” Eleven-year-old Karin (voiced by Noa Gotō) arrives there with her father, Tetsuya (Munetaka Aoki), at Sousei-Ji temple, home to her grandfather (Keiichi Suzuki). When Tetsuya is kicked out after asking for money to pay off a loan shark, he leaves Karin behind, promising to return on the anniversary of her mother’s death.

Soon after, Karin encounters Anzu (Mirai Moriyama), the titular ghost cat: an anthropomorphic feline riding a scooter, larger than an adult human, and perpetually wearing a flip phone around his neck. Befriending two local boys and a host of animal gods, Karin and Anzu embark on a series of minor adventures that span both this world and the hereafter.

The web is already brimming with comparisons between this film and Spirited Away—and if you’ve read this far, you’ll see I’ve now contributed to that discourse. The back half certainly invites the comparison, with Karin and Anzu embarking on a strange journey through the Kingdom of the Dead. Yet the rest of the film is a bizarre, jarring mix of tones and styles, swinging from crude comedy to philosophical ponderings, often making it unclear who the intended audience might be.

Take, for instance, a subplot involving the God of Poverty. Depicted as a grubby, toothless man in a loincloth, his attempts to fulfil his ‘job’ are frequently foiled by Anzu but just as often elicit unsettling suggestions of self-harm from his targets. Similarly, Anzu oscillates between threatening violent murder with a makeshift spear and farting on his friends for laughs. This randomness dominates much of the runtime, with side characters rarely contributing meaningfully until the chaotic final act.

This tonal inconsistency is mirrored in the animation. The backgrounds are often stunning, with lush, detailed depictions of summer landscapes. By contrast, the characters range from realistically drawn figures like Karin and Tetsuya to exaggerated caricatures or minimalist, rounded designs. This embrace of both grotesquerie and comedy is characteristic of Shin-Ei Animation (collaborating here with France’s Miyu Productions), the studio behind recent film versions of Shin Chan and Doraemon.

Where GHOST CAT ANZU shines brightest is in its unrestrained, rollercoaster finale. As hell quite literally breaks loose, a modest commentary on grief is consumed by a wild chase across Tokyo in a minibus full of demons. It’s as illogical as anything else in the film—a delightfully anarchic adventure perfectly tailored to kids navigating their own existential crises.

2024 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Yōko Kuno, Nobuhiro Yamashita | WRITERS: Shinji Imaoka (Based on a manga by Takashi Imashiro) | CAST (Japanese): Mirai Moriyama, Noa Gotō, Munetaka Aoki, Miwako Ichikawa, Keiichi Suzuki, Shingo Mizusawa, Wataru Sawabe | CAST (English): Jason Simon, Evie Hsu, Andrew Kishino, Erica Schroeder, David Goldstein, Jon Allen | DISTRIBUTOR: Toho Next (Japan), Kismet (Australia) | RUNNING TIME: 94 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 3 December 2024 (Australia)

November 25, 2024
Review: The First Slam Dunk [Japan Cuts 2023]

During the ’90, the Chicago Bulls ruled US basketball but it was Takehiko Inoue’s manga series Slam Dunk that dominated Japanese sales, with 170 million copies sold. Now the original manga creator has made his directorial debut, adapting his own work to the screen and winning the Japan Academy Film Prize for Best Animation of the Year in the process.

The feature film version concentrates on Ryota Miyagi (voiced by Shugo Nakamura), the point guard of Shohoku high-school’s basketball team. Cutting back and forth between his traumatic youth and the present, we see that Ryota lost his brother some years before, but his influence remains.

THE FIRST SLAM DUNK is a remarkable achievement. On a technical level, Inoue blends 2D and 3D animation to lift his characters off the page and give them texture. The source material’s look and feel is baked into the film, with black and white sketches and still frames during titles and key transitions.

For the action sequences, we get something truly amazing. Using motion capture technology, the animation is mapped to authentic movement. As a result, the game sequences are fast, fluid, and never anything less than exciting. We aren’t just watching an animation recreation of a basketball game, but seeing ballers in action.

This all builds to the climactic final game, the very definition of a white-knuckle event. As the sound drops out, and the animation becomes a blend of styles from all along the development pipeline, you will be unable to tear your eyes from the screen. There was a moment during the film’s final game that this reviewer, the least sportsy person you’ll meet, audibly gasped in sheer exhausted joy.

It’s all the more powerful because Inoue has managed to make us care for these players within the compact format of the film’s running time. Like all the best sports films, it’s the dramatic core that makes the victories and near defeats all the more impactful. A series of flashbacks, often rendered as intentionally crude sketches, showcase the interiority of these characters. It’s the culmination of these seemingly disparate moments that morph into an emotional finale.

THE FIRST SLAM DUNK might have been previously adapted into an anime and various offshoots, but this thoroughly original piece is a standalone entity. Not simply a terrific sport movie, it’s also something new in animation – and one that’s never anything less than gripping.

2022 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Takehiko Inoue | WRITERS: Takehiko Inoue | CAST: Shugo Nakamura, Jun Kasama, Shinichiro Kamio, Subaru Kimura, Kenta Miyake | DISTRIBUTOR: JAPAN CUTS, GKIDS | RUNNING TIME: 99 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 26 July-6 August 2023 (JAPAN CUTS), 28 July 2023 (US)

July 25, 2023
Review: Gold Kingdom and Water Kingdom [Nippon Connection 2023]

Director Kotono Watanabe is known largely for his television work on titles like Chihayafuru, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, and many more. For his feature directorial debut, he turns to Nao Iawamoto’s Kin no Kuni Mizu no Kuni manga, which ran in Flowers magazine between 2014 and 2016.

The basic premise of the film is rooted in familiar narrative tropes of star-crossed lovers and warring kingdoms. Here screenwriter Fumi Tsubota (My Beautiful Man) does a tidy job of introducing us to the ancient rift between the neighbouring lands of Alhamit and Baikari, which ultimately resulted in war due to untidied dog poop.

Resolution seems near when an old agreement sees Alhamit bequeath its most beautiful woman to Baikari as a bride to the latter’s wisest man. Alhamit’s princess Sara (voiced by Minami Hamabe) is confused when a puppy arrives on the fated day, while unemployed Baikari engineer Naranbayar (Kento Kaku) receives a kitten. By chance, the pair meet and slowly work out that something bigger is going on in their respective kingdoms.

For a fairly classic take Romeo and Juliet, with a little bit of geopolitics thrown in for good measure, GOLD KINGDOM AND WATER KINGDOM (金の国水の国) is quite entertaining. Characters Sara and Naranbayar are well written, and while we don’t get too deep into their characters in the necessarily compressed storytelling of cinema, we get enough to hook onto them for a while. It’s not so much laugh-out-loud funny, but there are some solid anime moments of cutaways and sight gags that amuse as well.

Visually, the film is lively, defined by the simple dichotomy of the desert-like Alhamit and the lush greens of Baikari. There are shots where the latter’s green seems to go on forever. The finale is largely set in a CG boosted series of stairs and bridges that are inspired by the architecture of Alhamit. The blend of animation styles doesn’t always sit easily, but it looks a treat at times.

Evan Call (Violet Evergarden) provides an engaging score, with several songs provided by Kotone including the theme ‘Brand New World.’

While the ending pushes the comic misunderstanding premise a little past believability, it also ups its own scale in terms of visuals and SFX, landing us on a positive note. It’s possible a series would have been a better fit for the material, but it’s ultimately a satisfying case of one and done.

2022 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Kotono Watanabe | WRITERS: Fumi Tsubota (Based on a manga by Nao Iwamoto) | CAST: Kento Kaku, Minami Hamabe, Hiroshi Kamiya, Miyuki Sawashiro, Subaru Kimura | DISTRIBUTOR: Nippon Connection 2023 | RUNNING TIME: 117 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 6-11 June 2023 (Nippon Connection)

June 9, 2023
Imposter syndrome: 25 years of ‘Perfect Blue’

“Why do all psycho thrillers in Japan turn out the same way?”

Outsiders might have said the same about anime at a certain point in the 1990s. Following the launch of Neon Genesis Evangelion on an unsuspecting world, Japanese and international audiences were being treated to a plethora of organic mecha and super robot shows.

Yet there was a parallel movement that saw global festival and cult audiences, perhaps on the hunt for the next Twin Peaks, searching out shows like Serial Experiments Lain. In the same year Hayao Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke (1997) became the most-expensive anime film up until that time, Satoshi Kon’s debut film PERFECT BLUE (パーフェクトブルー) won Best Film and Best Animation awards at Montreal’s 1997 Fantasia Festival.

‘A rape scene? You have got to be out of your mind!’

Based on Yoshikazu Takeuchi’s novel Perfect Blue: Complete Metamorphosis, the film opens on the performance of J-pop idol group CHAM. Its leading light Mima (voiced by Junko Iwai) is about to ‘graduate’ from the group to pursue a solo acting career. Yet an obsessive stalker isn’t happy with the change, watching her every move and posting it as an online diary. When the people around her are violently murdered, her sense of reality is shaken to the core.

While Kon’s debut is often considered groundbreaking for the number of boundaries it pushes, it’s remarkable for just how close to reality it actually was. For a medium that was known for bringing unreal things to life, here is a film that mirrors the darker aspects of our world. From the opening scene, in which photographers and fans alike mindlessly snap away at the CHAM performance, the thin line between the public and private lives of a celebrity are blurred.

In many ways, PERFECT BLUE anticipated a more sinister age of celebrities and the perils of being ‘always on.’ Even if the MiniDiscs and faxes mark the film as a product of its time — and someone has to explain the Internet to Mima at one point — it could almost be an early commentary on social media. Kon’s ability to get into the dark mind of the cult of celebrity seems to come from a very real place. In the recent documentary Satoshi Kon: The Illusionist, actress Junko Iwai discusses how her own time as an idol and the experience of being stalked influence the character.

So, when people talk about the ground that Kon broke, it was in his dissection of those well-known tropes. In the wake of the ultra-violent films like Ninja Scroll (1993) or the Genocyber (1994) series, not to mention the notorious sexualised violence of Urotsukidōji (1987), Kon’s sequences are based in more of a grim reality. Yes, there is an argument that Kon, much like Paul Verhoeven, uses rape merely as a narrative device. PERFECT BLUE is full of examples of the male gaze, not least of which is a nude photo shoot that is used repeatedly throughout the film.

Yet the first instance of rape on screen is within the context of Double Bind, the film within a film that Mima is shooting. As the scene is shot over several takes, Kon slides out of any accusations of sensationalism by making us consider the moment for what it is: a deliberate deconstruction crafted in a studio for our entertainment. Kon is calling out the kinds of sex and violence that made the pearl-clutchers reach for the smelling salts, both in Japan and Hollywood, while pointing out our collective complicity in its perpetuation.

“But illusions don’t kill.”

By this stage in the film, Kon has conclusively introduced the notion of duality. Just as David Lynch’s contemporaneous Lost Highway (1997) explored the fluidity between recorded memory and the event, PERFECT BLUE also crafts a thriller within the framework of identity, voyeurism and the notion of multiple selves.

For much of the film, Kon and screenwriter Sadayuki Murai keep events deliberately ambiguous. When Mima is first introduced, we already see her ‘other’ self reflected in a train window. Later, she sees a reflection of herself in her idol outfit claiming to be the ‘real’ Mima. As the events of the film escalate, it becomes unclear whether Mima is seeing another self or is committing crimes while in a fugue state. This is exacerbated by the film constantly segueing in and out of the similarly themed Double Bind, confusing the lines between fiction and reality even further.

The ambiguity continues right through the gripping climax to the almost dreamlike ending. Following an attempted rape by her stalker Me-Mania, it is revealed that Mima’s agent Rumi — herself a former idol seeking to relive her glory — has been manipulating both Mima and Me-Mania. Rumi even began to believe that she was the real Mima in a kind of shared delusional disorder. In the final scenes, a more assertive Mima visits Rumi in a mental health facility, the latter having now completely succumbed to her delusions. As staff mistake Mima for an impersonator, the now successful star reassures herself in her car’s rear-view mirror that “No, I’m the real thing.”

“The pop idol image is suffocating me…”

We lost Satoshi Kon in 2010 after a brief battle with pancreatic cancer. In his short but significant career, he also released Millennium Actress (2001), Tokyo Godfathers (2003), Paprika (2006) and the TV series Paranoia Agent, described as his answer to Twin Peaks. He may not have been as recognised in his time as he would have like, but 25 years after his debut we can reflect on how he ushered in a new era of adult storytelling in anime. “Satoshi Kon broadened the scope of animation,” Mamoru Hosoda (Summer Wars, Belle) once declared.

UK critic Andrew Osmond, author of the 2009 biography of the filmmaker, draws a parallel between PERFECT BLUE and David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (2001). In candid moments, Darren Aronofsky points to iconic shots (such as Mima in a bathtub) that he ‘borrowed’ for Requiem for a Dream (2000). Indeed, the embedded video above leaves little doubt as to the influence. You can see that influence even more clearly in his later Black Swan (2010) and Nicolas Winding Refn’s The Neon Demon (2015).

So, while we may look back on aspects of this and see it as a product of the late 1990s, it continues to transcend any sense of time and place. Kon returned to some of these themes in the arguably superior Millennium Actress, another film where the lines between cinema and reality have blurred. In an age when entire fandoms are built around brand identities, and social media has made it easier than ever to get lost in alternate identities, maybe Kon was just 25 years ahead of his time.

August 5, 2022
Review: Belle

When The Matrix Resurrections was released in cinemas late last year, movie audiences were reminded that we have been partly plugged into virtual worlds for decades. Yet that mirror universe has always forced us to lead at least two lives. The duality of this existence is something filmmaker Mamoru Hosoda knows so well, with his body of work often exploring the lines between this world and something ‘other.’ Hosoda continues his thematic journey, linking early Digimon — and especially Summer Wars — with this modern fable.

A loose adaptation of Beauty and the Beast, it follows Suzu (voiced by singer Kaho Nakamura), an alienated high school student left unable to sing due to a major childhood trauma. In the virtual world known as ‘U’, Suzu creates a persona she names ‘Bell’ who can sing like Suzu used to. Her popularity rises, and the community names her “Belle” due to her beauty. Yet an avatar known as Dragon begins to sabotage her, so Suzu and her new community of IRL friends begins to investigate who he might be.

BELLE (竜とそばかすの姫) is one of those delightful films that as soon as you think you’ve got it figured out, it pulls the rug out from under you. Just like Hosoda’s earlier film The Boy and the Beast, the high-concept is a vehicle for something more personal. Where that film alluded to Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book, here Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont’s 16th century fairy tale is the backdrop for exploring self-image and personal worth in the digital age. Indeed, the literal translation of the Japanese title is ‘The Dragon and the Freckled Princess.’

There’s the typical Japanese high school stuff here, of course, but Hosoda transcends all that by lifting up the curtain for a moment. U might be a fictional world where the characters show each other a kind of facade, but we viewers do that every day through everything from our clothes to our social media profiles. As the film unfolds, themes of abandonment and bullying become part of the landscape. There’s a handful of absolutely heartbreaking scenes in the film’s climax — when the identity of the Dragon is at last discovered — and few dry eyes will be left in the house.

With the assistance of veteran Disney animators and character designers Jin Kim (Hercules through Raya and the Last Dragon) and Michael Camacho (Summer Camp Island) on the character design of Belle — not to mention studio Cartoon Saloon contributing to the background work of the world of U — this is also one of Studio Chizu’s most visually stunning animated films to date. The stylised settings push the boundaries of the animated canvas: the spread of gossip is rendered like a strategy game, for example.

For the longest time, Hosoda was dubbed a successor to the Studio Ghibli legacy. Yet with BELLE it is entirely clear that he is well beyond such reductive labels. The hyperbole belongs entire to Hosoda and his Studio Chizu team. Already a massive hit in its native Japan, do not miss your chance to see one of the best animated films of recent memory.

2021 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Mamoru Hosoda | WRITERS: Mamoru Hosoda | CAST: Kaho Nakamura, Ryō Narita, Shōta Sometani, Tina Tamashiro, Lilas Ikuta, Kōji Yakusho, Takeru Satoh | DISTRIBUTOR: Toho (JPN), GKids (US), Kismet (AUS) | RUNNING TIME: 125 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 16 July 2021 (JPN), 14 January 2022 (US), 20 January 2022 (AUS)

January 15, 2022
Review: Pompo: The Cinéphile

When we first meet Gene Fini (voiced by Hiroya Shimizu), he’s a film obsessive. He lives and breathes movies. He’s known for sitting in darkened screening rooms while taking notes. Have you ever felt completely seen by a movie?

Based on the manga by Shogo Sugitani, the animated film from director Takayuki Hirao and studio CLAP is made for film lovers. Set in the fictional Nyallywood, Gene works as a production assistant for the titular Joelle Davidovich “Pompo” Pomponett (Konomi Kohara), a prodigy and producer of “uncomplicated B-movies.” In fact, her idea of a perfect film is one that clocks in at 90 minutes.

After impressing Pompo and the legendary studio head (and Pompo’s grandfather) J.D Peterzen with his trailer editing skills, Gene is given the chance to direct Pompo’s prestige picture. Terrified to be thrown in at the deep end of directing, a path that he never planned for himself, he soon becomes adept at eliciting outstanding performances and shots from Martin Braddock (Akio Otsuka) — the ‘best actor in the world’ — and young ingenue Nathalie Woodward (Rinka Otani), one of Pompo’s discoveries.

POMPO: THE CINÉPHILE is a simply wonderful treat. From the opening mockumentary sequence, it’s clear that this is speaking directly to people who understand both film language and the culture surrounding it. One of Gene’s first tasks is cutting together a 15-second trailer for the web — because it’s the one most people see and directly impacts revenue according to Pompo. Gene’s inner world is filled with edited frames as he works, spilling over into his real life as he replays conversations in a screening room.

Yet far from just being a tribute to the best of what live action and animation has to offer, POMPO is an impressive piece of animation in its own right. While the character designs are deceptively cartoony, based on the simple line art of their manga counterparts, there’s some sophisticated style at play here. When they arrive in Europe for principal photography on the film, the level of background detail is astounding. Non-specific European cities carry all the markers of Paris or Zurich in equal measure. When scenes from the film-within-a-film are shown, the whole thing switches to a letterboxed mode. (It should be noted that there’s currently a producer led crowdfunding campaign to enhance the photographic film style even further).

Filled with references to everyone from Disney to Satoshi Kon, here’s a film that’s ultimately made for a specific audience in mind. While Gene comes to the realisation that the film he is making is for himself as a young filmgoer, then Takayuki Hirao have made this just for you. Plus, it comes in at almost exactly 90 minutes. Even Pompo herself would love it.

POMPO: THE CINÉPHILE is reviewed as part of our coverage of Fantasia Festival 2021.

2021 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Takayuki Hirao | WRITER: Takayuki Hirao | CAST: Tomomi Kohara, Akio Otsuka, Hiroya Shimizu | DISTRIBUTOR: Fantasia Festival 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 90 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-25 August 2021 (Fantasia 2021)

August 15, 2021
Review: Evangelion 3.0 + 1.01 – Thrice Upon a Time

There are elements to this review that may be considered (very) minor spoilers. Proceed with caution.

Depending on your point of view, the fourth and probably final film in the Rebuild of Evangelion series has been either 14 years or several decades in the making. When Hideaki Anno relaunched his iconic anime series in 2007, few suspected that it wouldn’t be until 2021 that we would finally see his revised vision come to fruition.

It’s been all the more frustrating for fans given the radical directions taken in its predecessor Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo. Where the first two entries in the film series mostly stuck to an abbreviated (albeit visually shinier) version of the classic 1995-1996 series, a 14 year jump forward in time left us outside of the known universe and in completely new story territory. Or did it?

As the title would imply, EVANGELION 3.0 + 1.01: THRICE UPON A TIME (シン・エヴァンゲリオン劇場版:𝄂) is a direct continuation of that narrative. Opening with a spectacular clash between Willie and Nerv forces, the main story picks up with Shinji, Asuka and Rei wandering what’s left of Tokyo-3. However, life has found a way, with old friends and new living in a settlement near the edge of the city.

At 155 minutes, this film is not just the longest film in the series but one of the longest anime films of all time. As such, it’s easier to consider this a film of at least two major parts. On one hand, there’s several characters being forced to live outside their narrow constructs for the first time, and in the case of Shinji ‘Little Hamlet’ Ikari, finally get over his fatal indecision. The other, of course, is the overarching story of Shinji’s father Gendo and the Human Instrumentality Project — one that is far too complex for a handful of paragraphs. Suffice it to say that neither of them disappoints and they dovetail wonderfully by the end.

Having struggled with budgets in the original series, the visuals in this final chapter are next level. Since the last chapter, Anno has delved further into the live-action world on films like Shin Godzilla. This has directly influenced the scale of the animation, the likes of which have hitherto been unseen on our screens. Pulling from anime talent across the industry, the film — co-directed by Anno, Kazuya Tsurumaki (of GAINAX), Katsuichi Nakayama, and Mahiro Maeda (Blue Submarine No. 6) — switches from CG to traditional cel-animation seamlessly. At critical moments, it strips away all the facade by just using ‘unfinished’ storyboards and line art to lay these characters bare.

What really becomes evident by the end of this film — and you can take this as a spoiler warning if you like — is that Anno considers all of his Evangelion creations to be part of the one umbrella. Amidst all of the giant robots clashing and mind-boggling exposition, there’s still a core story about dealing with anxiety and depression. Anno might have stated that he associates with Gendo more these days, but it is still rare to see an animated film (or any film for that matter) be so open about human frailty and self-worth.

One can only imagine what Anno’s vision would have amounted to in the late 90s with a budget and global reach on this scale. Yet in some ways we don’t have to. EVANGELION 3.0 + 1.01: THRICE UPON A TIME is the culmination of all of the various narratives the series has created over the years. It’s frustrating at times, awe-inspiring at others, and quietly emotional when you least expect it. It is, in other words, Neon Genesis Evangelion.

2021 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Hideaki Anno, Kazuya Tsurumaki, Katsuichi Nakayama, Mahiro Maeda | WRITER: Hideaki Anno | CAST: Megumi Ogata, Megumi Hayashibara, Yuko Miyamura, Maaya Sakamoto, Akira Ishida, Kotono Mitsuishi | DISTRIBUTOR: Toho/Toei Company (JPN), Prime Video (International) | RUNNING TIME: 155 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 13 August 2021 (AUS)

August 13, 2021
Review: Junk Head

The term ‘labour of love’ gets bandied around a lot in review circles, often used as a shorthand for any difficult gestation process. In the case of Takahide Hori’s JUNK HEAD (ジャンク・ヘッド), there isn’t a more apt description. The self-taught animator reportedly spent seven years bringing this theatrical cut of his dystopian vision to international screens.

Expanding on his 2013 short Junk Head 1, Hori presents us with a future of humanity that are no longer able to reproduce due to the pursuit of longevity and gene manipulation. Their labour clones, now known as Marigans, rule the underworld 1,600 years later. Humanity wants to understand their offspring better and launches an expedition beneath the Earth.

Most of this is explained in a series of title cards before the credits. Which is probably a good thing given that the majority of the feature running time feels like a free train of thought. Re-editing the 2017 version released at the Fantasia International Film Festival that year, the long-delayed arrival of this weird and singular vision has taken on something of a mythical status among cult animation fans.

Like the earlier editions that this builds upon, one has to salute Takahide Hori for the amazing effort that has gone into the stop-motion/CG blend here. With an aesthetic that sits at the exact intersection of Despicable Me and a Tool music video, the painstaking level of detail found in every frame of this film is nothing short of phenomenal. Even when looking at walls of organic torsos — growing penis-like edibles that were translated as ‘mashrooms’ — there’s a beauty in the grotesquery (and vice versa).

It’s this look and feel that made the 30 minute version of this film such an immediate success with its advocates. Yet many of the in-built issues inherent to this stylistic approach are only exacerbated in a film more than three times that length. While the character designs and creature revelations are often ingeniously crafted, long stretches of the film are simply figures chasing each other around corridors. Even with the newly added interstitial bits, the (subtitled) mumble dialogue is another small barrier to engagement.

Yet it’s difficult to be too critical of a film that has had so much time and effort put into it. Hori and his small team of animators intend to return for an intended trilogy, rapidly expanding this world. It’s a complex vision that may not completely make the leap from its creators to the viewer’s mind, but from the warm response so far it’s certainly made the jump to their hearts.

JUNK HEAD is screening as part of the New York Asian Film Festival from 6-22 August and the 25th Fantasia Festival running 5-25 August 2021.

2017/2021 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Takahide Hori | WRITER: Takahide Hori | CAST: Takahide Hori | DISTRIBUTOR: GAGA, NYAFF 2021, Fantasia Festival 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 101 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 6-22 August 2021 (NYAFF 2021), 5-25 August (Fantasia 2021)

August 9, 2021
Review: Satoshi Kon: The Illusionist

When filmmaker Satoshi Kon died in 2010 following a brief battle with pancreatic cancer, he was 46. In his all-too-brief time on Earth, he left us with some of the most revered animated films of the last few decades: Perfect Blue (1997), Millennium Actress (2001), Tokyo Godfathers (2003), and Paprika (2006). Some might even argue that he set a standard for animators that few have bettered, but many have strived for.

French documentarian Pascal-Alex Vincent explores his life and career in this documentary, assembling a series of contemporaries and super fans to explore the multi-canvas artist through the through the most important thing: his work.

“Satoshi Kon broadened the scope of animation,” declares Mamoru Hosoda (Summer Wars, Mirai), one of the current kings of Japanese animation. “He was a prickly person,” counters Mamoru Oshii (Ghost in Shell) in a juxtaposing clip. Oshii, a legend in his own right, also worked on Kon’s epic manga Seraphim.

The relatively short body of work consists of a handful of manga, four features and a short. Intercut with newly shot reflections of the modern Tokyo, Vincent sets about going through each of those pieces roughly in the order of release. For established fans of Kon, there will be few revelations here, and it’s far too brief for any real depth. Yet the luminaries Vincent has gathered together talk about their influence or reflections on Kon’s films and animated series, including Masao Maruyama and Aya Suzuki of Madhouse alongside Hollywood directors Darren Aronofsky and Rodney Rothman (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse).

In discussing his debut film Perfect Blue, actress Junko Iwai discusses her own time as an idol and the experience of being stalked. UK critic Andrew Osmond — author of the 2009 book that inspired the documentary’s title — draws a parallel between Perfect Blue and David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (2001). Aronofsky points to shots he borrowed for Requiem for a Dream (2000).

Yet for all the praise, the documentary also reflects on some of the issues Kon had in the industry. “If he’s not making big bucks like Ghibli,” observes Madhouse’s Suzuki, “he really isn’t 100% respect by the industry.” Indeed, Millennium Actress critically explores that industry, ostensibly about a Setsuko Hara figure but also very much about the broader demands of the film world.

Which is why we also have works like Paranoia Agent, an experimental 13-episode series that is described here as “Kon’s answer to Twin Peaks.” Of course, Kon never quite viewed his work with the same lens that others did. The unmistakable masterpiece Paprika, for all of its darkness, was seen by Kon as his “Sailor Moon project.”

SATOSHI KON: THE ILLUSIONIST paints a portrait of someone who demanded high standards from others, and even higher from himself. Kon lists his greatest regret as never getting to complete Dreaming Machine, a film project about robots who are left behind on a crumbling Earth (and sounding vaguely like Wall-E). While we can lament that we never got to see more from him, the pieces he’s left behind show that he was successful in elevating the anime industry to high art. To paraphrase Christopher Wren, if you want to see his monument, then look around the modern anime landscape. His fingerprints are everywhere.

2020 | France | DIRECTOR: Pascal-Alex Vincent | WRITER: Pascal-Alex Vincent | CAST: Mamoru Oshii, Mamoru Hosoda, Darren Aronofsky, Marc Caro, Andrew Osmond, Jérémy Clapin | DISTRIBUTOR: Carlotta Films, Fantasia Festival 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 81 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-25 August 2021 (Fantasia 2021)

August 6, 2021
Review: Poupelle of Chimney Town

It’s very easy to describe something as ‘Ghibli-esque’ when dealing with Japanese animation – so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. After all, while the occasionally dormant powerhouse doesn’t have a monopoly on whimsy, they’ve certainly done it better than most over the last few decades.

Based on the 2016 children’s picture book by Akihiro Nishino, POUPELLE OF CHIMNEY TOWN (映画えんとつ町のプペル) is a high concept piece that starts with an intriguing premise. In a city full of chimneys that has never seen the sky, the stars are something of legend. Young Lubicchi (voiced by Mana Ashida) is, like his father before him, the last of the true believers. After an encounter with Poupelle (Masataka Kubota), a person made of trash who comes to life on Halloween night, he sets out to prove the existence of the true sky.

What’s immediately striking about POUPELLE is the genuinely dazzling hybrid animation. We are introduced to the town in a Halloween dance sequence that bears more than a passing resemblance to The Nightmare Before Christmas. As the film progresses, visual cues are taken from side-scrolling games, and there’s a wicked mine cart chase that feels like a POV roller coaster. (You can get a sense of the animation from the opening sequence, released in its entirety online and embedded below).

Yet as a narrative, it never really gets beyond the simple setup. A series of events and encounters with colourful personalities really only serve to highlight the gap between Lubicchi’s optimism and the fatalism of the townsfolk. As such. there’s a little sense of ‘wash-rinse-repeat’ to the whole affair. The final act also lets it down a little, and it’s arguably a tad overlong, focusing more on the quirkiness of characters than any story progression.

Poupelle is a great example of this, constantly played as a buffoon to emphasise his innocence in relation to the cynical adults. Still, unquestioning younger audiences are bound to enjoy this, which the film seems to be banking on, although there are a few minor scary parts in there as well. Indeed, the concept of a two lonely boys finding each other and becoming instant friends is classic wish-fulfilment stuff.

POUPELLE OF CHIMNEY TOWN competed at the 44th Japan Academy Film Prize, against the stiff competition of franchise entries for Doraemon and Violet Evergarden, but ultimately lost to Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba the Movie: Mugen Train for Animation of the Year prize. Issues aside, it’s a film that will unquestionably age better than the initial view and no doubt mark a new branch in director Yusuke Hirota’s already impressive filmography.

2020 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Yusuke Hirota | WRITER: Akihiro Nishino | CAST: Masataka Kubota, Mana Ashida, Shinosuke Tatekawa, Eiko Koike | DISTRIBUTOR: Toho, Yoshimoto Kogyo, International Film Festival Rotterdam | RUNNING TIME: 101 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 2-6 June 2021 (IFFR)

June 16, 2021