Mary and the Witch’s Flower (2017)

Tags

Animation, Anime, Family, Fantasy

In the deep glades of the forest
Where we humans rarely dare
Grows a flower raised on rumor
No one really thinks is there.

In this flower dwells a power,
Magic purely legend-born,
Waiting for some wanderer
To chance upon this plant forlorn.

When this power leaves its petals,
Gift for better or for worse,
Its new owner must decide
If it’s a blessing or a curse.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG

I know I was not the only person to be bitterly disappointed when Studio Ghibli announced its hiatus, which has since been reversed with Hayao Miyazaki again coming out of retirement for one more film. Even if that last film really is their last, though, there is hope yet that its imaginative spirit will live on in Studio Ponoc, a new animation studio founded by former members of Ghibli. Carrying on the legacy, Hiromasa Yonebayashi, previously director of Ghibli’s The Secret World of Arrietty and When Marnie Was There, brings much of the old Miyazaki-style magic to Studio Ponoc’s first feature, Mary and the Witch’s Flower.

Based off a 1971 children’s book called The Little Broomstick by Mary Stewart, Mary and the Witch’s Flower follows a young British girl who discovers a mysterious flower in the woods, which grants her temporary magical powers and allows her to visit the prestigious Endor College for witches, where the magical faculty are up to no good. Beyond the very similar art style, the film draws enormous inspiration from the catalog of Studio Ghibli, as any fan of Kiki’s Delivery Service, Castle in the Sky, Spirited Away, or Howl’s Moving Castle will easily tell. It’s not just the plucky young heroine either; individual scenes are clearly echoed as well, from broomstick-riding with a black cat to climbing up the roots of a giant tree. Yet for everything it borrows, Mary and the Witch’s Flower also feels of a piece with those classics, like a respectful grandchild.

Speaking of which, there’s something refreshing about the difference between this kind of Ghibli fare and western animation. Whereas most western cartoons paint adults as either jerks or fools, the Japanese esteem for elders shines through in the respect Mary shows her grandmother. This reflects the overall gentleness of the story, again another Ghibli trait. Despite an adventurous plot involving high-flying brooms and animal experimentation, Mary lacks depth and sometimes comes off a tad too genteel, in a way with which not all adults will connect.

Gorgeously animated, Mary and the Witch’s Flower is too derivative to compare with Ghibli at its best, but it’s a lovely film nonetheless, with enough affectionate detail and colorful whimsy to satisfy fans of the films it emulates. No doubt kids who grow up watching this movie will feel the same way about it years from now that many feel about Kiki or Arrietty. It’s certainly a sign of promise for Studio Ponoc’s future.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
607 Followers and Counting

 

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Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

Tags

Action, Animation, Comedy, Family, Superhero

The universe is vast and grand
And larger than we can explore,
Yet what if there were more than one
With possibilities galore.

In one dimension, you might be
Reclining underneath a tree.
In one, you’re driving;
One, in bed;
In one, surviving;
One, you’re dead.
In one, you may be ten feet tall
Or climbing up a building wall.
In one, your hair is blond or red;
Another, you have none at all.

You might be human or a fish
Or living in a Petri dish,
Or made of metal, made of wood;
You might be evil, might be good;
You might be famous or obscure,
Or wearing tentacles or fur.

Who knows what new alternative
Beyond dimension walls might live?
____________________

MPAA rating:  PG (probably the most family-friendly big-screen version of Spider-Man to date)

Many out there who are experiencing superhero fatigue might roll their eyes at the prospect of yet another Spider-Man movie. After all, they’ve already covered this Marvel character with an excellent trilogy with Tobey McGuire, two lesser reboot films with Andrew Garfield, and an MCU incarnation with Tom Holland, so how else could another film retread the same material? A better question after actually watching Into the Spider-Verse is “How can a film with so much prior history turn out to be possibly the most original and innovative movie of the year?”

I remembered the Spider-Man cartoon from the ‘90s had multiple versions of Peter Parker teaming up at times, but I never expected that kind of universe-spanning storyline to make it to the big screen, considering that the spider-mantle keeps getting handed off every few years. Animation was clearly the best medium for it, especially with the involvement of producers Christopher Miller and Phil Lord (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, The Lego Movie), the latter of whom also co-wrote the screenplay.

The story is quite simply everything we know and love about Spider-Man mixed, mutated, and amalgamated in ways I never thought I’d see. By diving into the multiverse, full of different incarnations of the wall-crawler, it combines the familiar with the new to create something fun and unexpected. For one thing, there are at least seven spider-people total, along with alternate versions of Spider-Man’s rogues gallery, and while the story focuses on Miles Morales (Shameik Moore), a black teen bitten by a universe-hopping spider, there is so much going on in Into the Spider-Verse that I won’t even try describing it all, which is best anyway since I don’t do outright spoilers anymore.

Miles himself is an authentic and relatable kid, street-savvy but smart, who is pulled in way over his head when the hulking Kingpin (Liev Schreiber) opens up a portal to other dimensions, summoning varied Spider-people, from a spider-powered Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld) to an over-the-hill Peter Parker (Jake Johnson) to a talking pig from a universe of funny animals (John Mulaney). While it gets as crazy as it sounds, the characters are marvelously written, each one with their own in-jokes, histories, and personal arcs, most notably the older version of Peter Parker, who is forced to mentor Miles in order to get back to his own universe.

The character dynamics are great, yet I feel like I’ve barely scratched everything to love about this movie. I never knew much about Miles Morales’ origin story in the comics, but it’s hard to imagine it being better than this film version. There are touchstones to the familiar Spider-Man origin, but it plays out with clever and unique differences, which, along with the multitude of jokes and gags, especially reward the geeky knowledge of fan nerds like me. I don’t usually like familiar characters being reimagined for the sake of diversity, as Hollywood so often does, but the multiverse concept is the perfect way to handle it, introducing new versions of characters, whether it be a black Spider-Man or an anime-style girl and robot team, while leaving the familiar intact.

And let’s not forget the animation; it’s quite literally unlike anything we’ve seen before, a mixture of 2D and 3D with images that feel ripped from the panels of a comic book while also boasting amazingly fluid action scenes. Somehow, the mixing of animation styles (anime, exaggerated cartoon) merges with the main style seamlessly, which fascinates me to no end. Comics are an unmistakable visual influence, such as the dotted background texture of many scenes, and I liked how thought bubbles and such became more pronounced when Miles began experiencing the heightened senses of his spider-powers.

Speaking of heightened senses, the animation in Into the Spider-Verse is likely to yield sensory overload, not unlike Lord and Miller’s earlier film The Lego Movie. The pace and visuals are similarly frenetic, though more sophisticated and not as hard to follow, especially during the eye-popping, reality-warping finale, which might be as close as I ever get to an LSD trip. Every scene is full of such life and detail that I honestly cannot wait to see it again.

While I loved everything –characters, animation, action, story, the touching Stan Lee cameo/tribute—I will say one thing didn’t thrill me, namely the soundtrack. Befitting the urban setting of Miles’ world, it’s largely hip hop and rap, the value of which still eludes me. (Seriously, what’s catchy about someone talking to a beat?) Post Malone’s “Sunflower” was the only song I halfway liked, but that’s likely a personal gripe, since I’ve heard other people laud the soundtrack. One brief scene featured a great little snippet of John Parr’s “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion),” which only made me wish the soundtrack had less rap and more ‘80s rock.

My VC enjoyed the movie overall and agreed the visuals were amazing and Oscar-worthy, yet, though she recognized the trippy style as something outstanding, it simply wasn’t for her. Then again, she also tends to discount the value of animation, viewing it generally as lesser than live-action, to which I quote the talking pig: “You got a problem with cartoons?” I certainly don’t. This film just keeps getting better in my head the more I think about it, and I’m actually looking forward to the inevitable spin-offs and sequels it will spawn. If you have any fondness for the character of Spider-Man, I suspect there is something or many things you will love about this movie. Spider-Man may be a well-worn franchise by now, but Into the Spider-Verse just reinvented it in a way no one saw coming.

Best line:  (Miles, buying a Spider-Man costume) “Can I return it if it doesn’t fit?”  (Stan Lee) “It always fits, eventually.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
600 Followers and Counting!

 

Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms (2018)

Tags

Animation, Anime, Drama, Fantasy

Mother of mine,
What a trial you bore
When I, in my infancy, cried more and more!

Mother of mine,
How obliviously
Did I take for granted your keeping of me!

Mother of mine,
What a fool you held near,
No thought for a thank you, no room to revere!

Mother of mine,
How ungrateful was I
When I was at last old enough to defy!

Mother of mine,
What regret I now feel
For waiting so long for my thanks to be real,
That love all too often I tried to conceal,
That raising me had to be such an ordeal.

Mother of mine,
How I wish you to know
The love that I should have returned long ago!
_____________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be PG-13 for some violence and mature themes, though nothing too explicit)

From early in 2018, I thought that Mirai would surely be the anime film of the year, but no, it’s not. That title goes to Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms, a film I had no idea had already come out until I heard about it from Rachel of Reviewing All 56 Disney Animated Films and More! The description alone had me desperate to see it: a high fantasy tale of an immortal girl adopting a human baby. I tried to avoid spoilers at all cost, but everything I read about this cross between Lord of the Rings and The Age of Adaline, including its growing reputation as an all-out tearjerker, only heightened my excitement. With its 100% on Rotten Tomatoes, it looked like a film I was destined to love.

Finally, I got to see it, and though my expectations were high, Maquia met them. This may be writer/director Mari Okada’s debut film, but her first movie is a humdinger in both its emotional impact and its fantasy world-building. The titular Maquia is an orphan of the lorph clan, a small race of people who live for centuries with no aging and record their lives and histories by weaving cloth called Hibiol. A neighboring kingdom invades, taking most of the lorph captive, but Maquia escapes in despair, only to stumble upon an orphaned baby boy she names Ariel. Although she is alone, knows nothing of motherhood, and was expressly warned never to love a mortal lest she endure true loneliness, Maquia raises the child as her own, and…sniff… you’ll just have to watch it for yourself.

Anime has some amazing mothers to its credit, from Hana in Wolf Children to the mom in the tenth episode of Violet Evergarden (another tearjerker of 2018), but there’s something special about Maquia. She shares no blood or background with Ariel, not even fully understanding the physical realities of motherhood, and yet in her efforts to be a good mother, she shines as few parents do in any medium. She struggles with the task, especially as Ariel grows older while she remains the same, becoming a constant reminder that he was adopted, but she takes to heart the lessons taught by others that moms will do anything for their children and that “moms don’t cry.”

As much as I wish I could call it a faultless film, Maquia is not without some weaknesses. There’s an extended subplot concerning two of Maquia’s lorph friends, whose paths in life are far more oppressive than hers; enduring rape and imprisonment, they serve as a contrast to the love that Maquia finds, and while their struggles remained interesting and sympathetic, I wouldn’t say they were resolved in an entirely satisfying way. Plus, one jump in time left me unsure what was going on, dropping some uncomfortable implications and keeping its full context vague.

Despite these gripes, Maquia is a beautiful film on multiple levels, from its tender moments to its exceptional animation to its affecting soundtrack. Its rich fantasy world of warring nations and dying dragons offers several striking settings reminiscent of Middle-Earth, and its themes of love and parenthood go straight to the heart, demonstrating how children can have just as much of an impact on their parents as the other way around. Plus, there’s hardly any of the stylistic exaggeration typical of anime, making it a film that fantasy lovers who may not be into anime should be able to enjoy as well.

I don’t cry easily these days. Only two anime have left me sobbing before, and Maquia makes it three. I’ve mentioned that some sad films like The Wind Rises seem to almost pull back from full-on tearjerker mode for whatever reason; Maquia does not. I wept bitterly, though for different reasons than something like Grave of the Fireflies. There’s a scene at the end that mercilessly kicks your heartstrings while kissing them tenderly, and it still haunts me. I said yesterday that Mirai made me want to hug my mom; Maquia did the same times eleven. That’s why, for me, this is the anime of the year. The film itself represents its theme of pain being an integral part of love, a bitterness made sweet by all that came before.

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
600 Followers and Counting!

 

Mirai (2018)

Tags

Animation, Anime, Drama, Family, Fantasy

 

When a child asks, quizzically,
“Where did I come from?”
Who knows what the most fitting answer may be?
The truth of it, physically,
May create someone,
But ‘tis but a branch of the whole family tree.

For what you’re aware of,
Your path and your parents,
Are products of precursors we’ll never know,
Dependent on their love,
Their choice and forbearance,
The roots they put down that their children may grow.
_____________________

MPAA rating:  PG

Back when I reviewed Netflix’s Flavors of Youth, I mentioned there were two new anime films I was dying to see before the end of the year, and now that I have, I also wanted to squeeze in a review for each of them. Thus, I’ll do one today and one tomorrow, starting with the one I’ve been expecting longer.

I’ve enjoyed the works of anime director Mamoru Hosoda for years (The Girl Who Leapt through Time and Wolf Children are still in my top 365 Movie List), and Mirai was one of my most anticipated movies this year. With every new feature, Hosoda has carved out a niche for animation fans, putting his own stamp on imaginative half-Ghibli-like fantasies mixed with real-world drama. In Mirai, his latest acclaimed feature, he does the same with a highly minimalist plot and a younger-than-normal protagonist.

At its core, Mirai’s story is deceptively simple, that of a four-year-old boy named Kun accepting the presence of his newborn sister Mirai (which also means “future”). Yet the lessons he learns about jealousy, relationships, and family have surprising depth and are often taught through extended visual metaphors. I was a little surprised that any explanation for the time travel aspect was basically an afterthought. Thanks to the dad, the family’s house is an architectural curiosity with three levels, one of which is roofless with an interior yard, and anytime Kun passes the family tree, it’s as if his imagination conjures up another realm.

Sometimes, it’s the family dog transformed into a grouchy human, or his teenage sister arriving from the future, or his great-grandfather showing him how to ride a bike, and certain moments of the fantastical affecting the real world make you wonder whether it’s all in Kun’s head or not. These elements are a tad random and he sometimes tends to relearn the same lesson over again (be more patient with your parents/sister, for instance), but there’s an ingenious visual nuance to how Kun learns about his family and factoring his new role as a big brother into his identity.

I said earlier that Hosoda excels at mixing the magical with the mundane, but it doesn’t work quite as well here as it did with, say, Wolf Children. Some of the transitions between real life and fantasy were rather weird for my taste, and I would have liked a definitive answer of what was actually going on beyond “it’s a visual metaphor.” To be honest, I found myself more interested in the day-to-day activities and struggles of Kun and Mirai’s parents. Let’s face it: Whiny kids can be annoying, especially kids in anime, so I felt more of a connection with the harried father and the long-suffering mother than with the often bratty Kun.

There’s a lot to love about Mirai, not least of which is the beautiful hand-drawn animation. (One scene in a train station is breathtaking in the amount of detail and motion on display.) Plus, it’s funny and relatable on multiple levels. I especially admired how many of the individual stories were brought together near the end to show Kun how a complex web of lives and choices combined to give him the life he had. It was profound and visually striking and helped make up for some of the plot’s earlier weaknesses.

It’s worth noting that Mirai surprisingly received a nomination for Best Animated Feature at the Golden Globes this year, making it the first anime to be nominated. It’s certainly worthy and a sign of improvement in what gets recognized, but it irks me that they didn’t give that honor to even more deserving contenders in the past, like Your Name, Wolf Children, or A Silent Voice. But I digress…. Mirai may not be Hosoda’s best work, but it’s another laudable credit to his name. And it made me appreciate my parents a little more, so that I just had to give my mom a hug. Any film that gives me another reason to do that deserves praise.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
600 Followers and Counting!

 

2018 Blindspot Pick #10: Into the Forest of Fireflies’ Light (2011)

Tags

Animation, Anime, Drama, Fantasy, Romance

When the forest’s green carpet was dappled with light,
The trees standing stolid in blithe oversight,
I cried, a mere child, alone on my knees,
And lost with no help from the untroubled trees.

I don’t know how long I stayed, venting vain tears,
For he found me, as when a rainbow appears,
And though I perhaps should have harbored unease,
I beamed at the man, standing masked among trees.

I tried to embrace him, but he dodged the act
And said he would vanish from human contact,
For spirits like him are too fragile to squeeze,
And so we stood separate, surrounded by trees.

I doubted his words, yet I welcomed his care,
As he led us back homeward, a curious pair.
And though he said not to, tomorrow the breeze
Will lead me back to him, a ghost among trees.
______________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (easily a G as far as content)

Blindspot picks are supposed to be films that one has been meaning to see for a long time and hasn’t gotten around to it. Into the Forest of Fireflies’ Light (or Hotarubi no Mori e) certainly fits that definition for me. It has long been included in other people’s lists of favorite anime, typically alongside Studio Ghibli films, and I couldn’t put it off anymore. I was even proud that I had been able to avoid spoiling the ending, and now that I’ve seen it… I don’t want to say I’m disappointed, just that I thought there would be more to it.

I should have known not to expect too much, based on positive reviews noting its simplicity, and indeed that simplicity is one of its key strengths. The story follows the relationship of a girl named Hotaru who, while lost in a forest at six years old, meets a young man in a mask. Though he insists that no human should touch him, lest he disappear forever, she continues to visit him, and the two become close friends. Despite the invisible barrier of physical contact, they even begin to love each other, as the girl grows older, returning to the spirit forest year after year.

That’s as much as I knew going in, and while there’s a bittersweet payoff that admittedly does hit the emotions hard, that’s pretty much the whole story. There aren’t any subplots and not many extra characters, and frankly the tale didn’t need them. As seen in Makoto Shinkai’s works, such as The Garden of Words, anime films don’t necessarily have to be of feature length to realize their intended effect, and 44 minutes was just right for this one.

I will say that it could have been very easy for the story to come off as creepy by nature. After all, a lost little girl meets a masked man in the woods, who hits her with a stick (when she tries to touch him). It might have been a hard sell just describing the plot like that, but instead it’s a sweet friendship/romance that might leave many a viewer brushing away tears. Perhaps its length kept it from hitting me hard enough for that, or perhaps I was just expecting too much, but Into the Forest of Fireflies’ Light still worked well as a mini-tearjerker with some lovely animation from the studio Brain’s Base, albeit nothing exceptional. With a few traces of Ghibli-esque whimsy, it’s a touching little fantasy for those looking for a tug on the ol’ heartstrings.

Best line: (Hotaru) “Time might separate us some day. But, even still, until then, let’s stay together.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
594 Followers and Counting

 

Next Gen (2018)

Tags

Action, Animation, Comedy, Family, Sci-fi

 

The world’s an easy place to hate,
For it hates all too frequently.
And anger tends to escalate
The more it’s met with enmity.

One pain of heart
Can sow and start
A seed of hate
To germinate
And grow until
There’s no goodwill
For world or friend.
They all offend!
Life’s all about
The lashing out,
For no one cares
Or answers prayers;
Of that, they do not have a doubt.

But wait…
And hesitate to hate,
Just long enough to listen clear.
The world itself is quite the weight,
But others bearing it stand near
To show you how to persevere.
___________________

MPAA rating:  PG

It might be easy to write off a film that borrows plot elements from other stories as freely as Next Gen does, but this Chinese-American cartoon based on a graphic novel and delivered by Netflix manages to be more than the sum of its parts. Set in a futuristic world where personable robots are a ubiquitous household accessory, young robot-hating loner Mai (Charlyne Yi) becomes unlikely friends with an experimental droid called 7723 (John Krasinski) that might be able to save both her from herself and the world from a robot takeover. That description alone will probably conjure memories of The Iron Giant, Big Hero 6, and I, Robot, and Next Gen wears those similarities on its sleeve. Yet there’s more to appreciate beyond the familiar “boy and his robot” storyline (or “girl and her robot,” in this case).

As I said, Next Gen’s biggest touchstone would have to be Big Hero 6, not only with its big friendly robot mascot but also its urban setting of Asian-Western fusion, with Chinese characters instead of Japanese. But this Netflix film has some intriguing differences as well. One of them is the extent of robot normalization, which goes beyond that of I, Robot. Almost every device in this world is semi-sentient, and while a lot of potential questions surrounding that aren’t even broached, it’s an intriguing setup. Mai’s mother (Constance Wu) is obsessed with her Q-Bot companions and their developer, the Steve Jobs-esque Justin Pin (Jason Sudeikis), and it’s not a coincidence that the robot fascination mirrors the distraction of smartphone use. It’s also worth noting that Isaac Asimov’s three laws of robotics apparently don’t apply, specifically the one about robots not harming humans, since a group of bullies order their robots to beat up on Mai for them.

Beyond the setting, there are some deeper than normal themes at play as well. Mai is resentful of her father’s abandonment of her and the way her mother uses robots to cope, and when she meets 7723, it’s only his weapons and the destruction they create that catch her interest. She’s quite angry and cynical for a cartoon protagonist, and interestingly, it’s 7723 that has to remind her to not lose her humanity when lashing out at the world.  7723 also has a struggle of his own; he values every minute spent with Mai, yet his memory cache is limited, forcing him to choose which memory files and systems to delete and make room for more. It’s not every cartoon that tackles existential questions reminiscent of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, so Next Gen’s themes are definitely a step above the usual “follow your heart” storyline we’ve seen all too often.

On top of that, it’s a quality production, with fluid animation and some pretty awesome action sequences. One explosive scene in particular is one continuous tracking shot with no cuts. I already love those kinds of scenes in live-action, and, although it probably doesn’t require quite as much effort to pull off, I like that the technique is being used more and more in animation. (I could also cite the opening scene of The Secret Life of Pets or Diamond’s big fight scene in the anime Land of the Lustrous.)

As self-aware as it often is, it’s a shame that Next Gen feels obligated to conform to a few clichés, like the bully inevitably deciding “Hey, sorry I beat you up. Let’s be friends.” Likewise, Mai’s mother is pushed into a “you were right, I was wrong” confession that is so fast, it felt like the screenwriter checking off a plot requirement.

I will also say that Next Gen is probably better for older kids, and not just because of its deeper themes or a sudden death scene. There’s a funny running joke where 7723 can translate the barks of Mai’s excitable dog (Michael Pena), bleeping out his more profane words. I guess it’s on the level of any number of reality shows these days, but I don’t exactly welcome it when a kids’ cartoon features even the mouthing of the F-bomb.

Next Gen isn’t perfect, but it comes closer to Big Hero 6 than I would have thought possible from a Chinese production company I’d never heard of. There’s a lot to love about it and how it addresses moving beyond tragedy and anger while remaining a fun and sweet adventure, and I certainly hope that this and other animation houses outside the mainstream can continue the high quality displayed here.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
590 Followers and Counting

 

Flavors of Youth (2018)

Tags

Animation, Anime, Drama, Romance

I’ve had the chance to learn and grow
From where I was ten years ago,
And though time’s neither fast nor slow,
It’s galloped past me even so.

I know,
I know,
I’m not that old.
Not old enough to be consoled
For past regrets and words untold
When still on destiny’s threshold.

Yet worry knows no age or race.
It’s but a trace time can’t erase,
Not even at its breakneck pace.
And such are truths we all must face
As past and future we embrace.
_____________________

Rating: TV-PG (nothing objectionable, just themes best appreciated by adults)

For those who loved Makoto Shinkai’s Your Name, it’s naturally a grueling wait for his next anticipated feature, but in the meantime, CoMix Wave Films, the production studio for Shinkai’s movies, has filled the gap nicely by teaming with the Chinese animation house Haoliners. In place of Shinkai, Flavors of Youth has three different directors, each delivering a dramatic entry for this Netflix anthology film. Surprisingly, the result is a satisfying substitute that boasts both visual beauty and honest emotion in equal measure (as well as a solid English dub).

While the names and settings are clearly Chinese rather than Japanese, Flavors of Youth has all the aesthetic quality of a well-crafted anime film, and while Japanese animation can so often be associated with explosive battles and yelling, this belongs to the more introspective and relatable side of anime. The first of the three short stories revolves around a young man’s memories of the San Xian noodles he ate while growing up, which may seem overly simple, but the true-to-life details and poetic narration by narrator extraordinaire Crispin Freeman (of Haruhi Suzumiya fame) added to its impact. The second film was a bit less engaging for me, focusing on two sisters in the fashion world, but the story ended nicely and didn’t detract from the film overall. The third, though, entitled “Shanghai Love Story,” is especially affecting with its likable characters and sad irony, and any fan of Shinkai is bound to admire it.

While the themes are far from niche, I felt that the individual stories were aimed precisely at people like me, twenty-somethings uncertain about the future and nostalgic for good ol’ days which weren’t all that long ago yet seem to be fading before our eyes. The first story best encapsulated these sentiments and the way that memories and regrets always outlive their source. Cherished businesses close, loved ones die, and modern replacements never quite reach the glory of our recollections and hopes.

Yet unlike some other films I could name (I’m looking at you, 5 Centimeters Per Second), Flavors of Youth doesn’t settle with being depressing and finds hope in the promise that comes with building off those precious memories. This anthology may fall that little bit short of greatness, but those who enjoyed Shinkai’s work, such as The Garden of Words, should not miss it; just don’t expect another Your Name, and certainly nothing supernatural. I feel like I’ve grown fonder of this film since first seeing it, thanks especially to an after-credits scene that barely tied the stories together, and it’s a gratifying sign that Shinkai’s influence is clearly spreading. There are several anime films I’m dying to see this year, especially Maquia and Mirai of the Future, so I’m grateful that Netflix supplied this wistful little film while I wait.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
589 Followers and Counting

 

The Incredibles 2 (2018)

Tags

Action, Animation, Comedy, Family, Pixar, Sci-fi, Superhero

Incredible is a subjective term,
As critics and colleges can confirm.
One man’s amazing and top-of-the-class
Is another’s mundane because people, alas,
See things either clearly or through rosy glass.

Incredible is a desirable word,
So rarely deserved yet so commonly heard.
At times, there’s consensus for some shining star,
But mostly we just must agree on the bar
And how we compare them decides what they are.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG

Of all the studios churning out long-awaited sequels, Pixar has arguably the best track record. Whether it’s Monsters University, Finding Dory, or Toy Story 3 (I mean 4), the decade-waiting sequelization of their canon is well underway and, with the exception of Cars 2, has turned out surprisingly well. (They’re all weaker than the originals, but they’re by no means bad, except Cars 2.) Yet strangely, Pixar has made fans wait longest for the follow-up to the one film in their oeuvre that was actively crying out for a sequel, namely The Incredibles. Perhaps due to the influx of superhero franchises since 2003, director Brad Bird finally delivered, and I’d say the fourteen-year wait was worth it.

Picking up immediately where the first film left off, The Incredibles 2 reminds us that, even after saving the world from Syndrome, the Parr family still have to deal with the fact that superheroing is illegal. After their battle with the Underminer goes south, Mr. and Mrs. Incredible (Craig T. Nelson and Holly Hunter) and Frozone (Samuel L. Jackson) are approached by millionaire entrepreneurs Winston (Bob Odenkirk) and Evelyn Deavor (Catherine Keener), a brother and sister team who are actively trying to bring supers back into the spotlight. Due to her less destructive abilities, Elastigirl is the new face of their law-bending campaign, and while Bob deals with the headaches of parenting at home, Helen faces off with a mind-controlling villain called the Screenslaver.

There are certain elements borrowed from the previous film, such as the family disagreements on how to handle hiding their powers, and if you suspect their new benefactors aren’t entirely on the up-and-up, you’d be somewhat right. Yet The Incredibles 2 does an excellent job at differentiating itself from the first and from other superhero films in general. Chief among the differences is the inclusion of other supers joining the crusade for superhero legality, and their presence allows for added creativity in the battles and actual super-vs.-super fights rather than the repeated super-vs.-robot fight of the first. Anyone who wanted more Elastigirl and Frozone shouldn’t be disappointed, and while Bob seemed sidelined by suppressed egotism and Mr. Mom franticness, it wasn’t as bad as the trailers implied. Ultimately, even with some mature themes being broached, this is still a film for and about families, with Bob’s first-hand struggles with superpowered child-rearing offering a nice counterpoint to the more action-packed beats with his wife.

One thing that seemed like a retroactive change is that the Parrs apparently didn’t see baby Jack-Jack use his powers at the end of the first film, allowing for all of them to be surprised again by his multifaceted abilities. Jack-Jack even steals the show at times, whether he’s paired with an ornery raccoon or fashionista Edna Mode (Brad Bird). Likewise, Violet (Sarah Vowell) and Dash (Huck Milner, seamlessly replacing Spencer Fox) get their fair share of screen time, especially after the villain is revealed. Speaking of which, the Screenslaver may not have as compelling a backstory as Syndrome, but the philosophy spouted by the shadowy figure has a point in denouncing people’s reliance on computer/TV screens and lack of responsibility. It’s the kind of motivation that works well for a supervillain, bearing a kernel of truth but taken to a malevolent extreme, which actually offers a legitimate threat against the supers.

I’ll be honest: I intentionally had very low expectations for The Incredibles 2. Others I know have said they had enormous hopes for it, but when you’re dealing with a film as awesome as the first Incredibles, it’s going to be hard to match. Perhaps that’s why I enjoyed it so much compared with one of my disappointed coworkers, who likely had too many preconceived notions of what the perfect sequel should be, not unlike Star Wars fans of late. Yes, The Incredibles 2 doesn’t quite reach the heights of its predecessor: It lacks the meaningful character arcs of the first film, its villain mystery is semi-predictable, and it raises more thematic questions about right, wrong, and responsibility than it even tries to answer. Yet it was so enjoyable to spend time with these characters again that I didn’t mind, and it still stands head-and-shoulders above the majority of animated films nowadays.

I think I’d go so far as to call it the best Pixar sequel since Toy Story 2, at least in recapturing the spirit of the original. The action scenes are as cool and polished as anything in the MCU, and Michael Giacchino’s bombastic score is still the perfect complement to its comic book world. It’s not above some complaints, but if you compare The Incredibles 2 to Cars 2 rather than the first Incredibles, I think you’ll agree it’s an “incredible” sequel. Pixar does it again!

Best line: (Edna) “Done properly, parenting is a heroic act. [Glares at Bob’s exhaustion] “Done properly.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy (joining the first film)

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
585 Followers and Counting

 

In This Corner of the World (2016)

Tags

Animation, Anime, Drama, Foreign, History, Romance, War

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a hopeful elegy, so I wrote mine about the mourning of a way of life.)

 

What’s almost as sad as a person’s death
Is the death of the way that they lived.

They once woke up, knowing what their day
Would likely hold,
And they’d watch unfold
A normal we’d say
Was strange and old,
But they took pride
And personified
A life that bloomed till the world went cold.

Disasters sudden or a cancer slow
Or new breakthroughs
Would cause them to lose
What was status quo.
They could not refuse,
For who can tell
A dead bloom, “Get well,”
When its winter’s come and it’s paid its dues?

But people live on, like roots that remain
For new blooms to rise
Once the former dies
And forgets the pain
Of its sad demise.
Our ways of life fade
Daily and are remade.
Remember that grief is short-lived for the wise.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

And the number of award-worthy animated films of 2016 just keeps on growing. When I heard that a crowdfunded project called In This Corner of the World had beaten out Your Name and A Silent Voice for Japan’s Best Animated Feature award, I rolled my eyes that anything could top those two emotional hits. I still would have preferred one of them to win, but I can now at least see why In This Corner of the World would deserve to win. (It’s also further proof that the American Academy can’t seem to recognize an award-worthy animation if it hails from another country.)

Set before, during, and after the Hiroshima bombing of August 6, 1945, this Japanese period drama has a slice-of-life charm and simplicity that endures the ever-looming shadow of death. In many ways, it is reminiscent of Grave of the Fireflies (a painful favorite of mine), yet while that film is essentially grief and desperation from start to finish, In This Corner of the World uses its long runtime to show the daily life of its characters and how the approaching war changed that way of life for the sake of survival.

It begins with the childhood of Suzu Urano, an often absent-minded artist who grows up in an idyllic seaside town close to Hiroshima. After receiving an offer of marriage from a man she doesn’t know, she hesitantly leaves her own family to marry into the Hojo family in Kure, a Navy dockyard about an hour away by train. There is a wealth of humorous vignettes as Suzu adjusts to her new surrounding and family members, including a short-tempered sister-in-law and her daughter, and many aspects of their daily life are steeped in Japanese culture, from the fashioning of kimonos and later pants to the preparation of traditional field-to-table meals, which require resourcefulness once wartime rationing is implemented. From amusing asides and sweet romantic moments, the tone gets more and more serious and even dire as the war gets closer, the bombing raids become more frequent, and we the audience wait for the inevitable bomb to drop, wondering how it will affect Suzu and her loved ones.

The abrupt editing of all those vignettes does contribute to a sometimes unfocused storyline that puts certain details in doubt, and a few forays into Suzu’s imagination left me confused as to whether surrounding scenes were supposed to be real or not. Yet such negatives don’t detract too much from the humane power of the whole. Perceptive details and lovely snapshots abound, notably a post-war scene where the town’s lamps are uncovered (no longer in fear of air raids) and one by one shine into the night. The animation is not your typical anime style, with more of a gentle, hand-drawn impressionism that can be reminiscent of either a comic strip or a museum piece, depending on the tone of the scene. It’s surprisingly effective in its consistency depicting both Suzu’s carefree early life and the grief-stricken toll of war, and the filmmakers put great and laudable care into re-creating the pre-bomb city of Hiroshima accurately.

Once again, I’m torn on how to rank what is clearly a great film, trying to judge my personal opinion of it. It’s absolutely worthy of Japan’s top animation prize, and I can see why they would opt for the more historically significant choice, even over the box-office juggernaut that was Your Name. Despite its winsome animation and gradually developed poignancy, it didn’t bring me close to tears like Your Name or A Silent Voice or Grave of the Fireflies, which matters to me as a way of measuring the emotional impact. Even so, I feel like I’m growing fonder of this film the more I think about it. Perhaps its ultimate ranking is a wait-and-see. It requires some patience, but I highly recommend In This Corner of the World for its touching civilian-level view of World War II.

Best line: (Suzu, comparing her current life to a dream) “I don’t want to wake up because I’m happy to be who I am today.”   (Shusaku, her husband) “I see. The past and the paths we did not choose, they’re like a dream.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up (for now)

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
564 Followers and Counting

 

April and the Extraordinary World (2015)

Tags

Action, Animation, Family, Fantasy, Foreign, Mystery, Sci-fi

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write about how one of a list of impossible things could actually happen, so I thought of a certain highly imaginative film.)

 

“Pigs can’t fly,”
They said. “Of course,
And cats can’t join
The labor force.”

“Clocks can’t chime
Thirteen,” they vowed,
“Nor rewind time.
That’s not allowed.”

But some will hear
Such sober laws,
And ask with thought,
“Why not?” because

The present world
They recognize
Is changing more
Before their eyes.

If they dislike
Such rules, they dream
Worlds where clocks strike
Thirteen, where steam

Propels machines,
Where pigs can fly,
Where magic beans
Grow greens so high,

Where men can grow
Beyond their flaws.
Imagination
Knows no laws.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG

I love animation, and I love discovering hidden gems that remind me why I love animation. April and the Extraordinary World is a delightful case in point. At a time when the U.S. and Japan seem to rule the animation industry, it’s also an important reminder that Europe has no shortage of talent and is just as likely to churn out an instant classic for those willing to search for it.A French-Belgian-Canadian co-production, April and the Extraordinary World is one of the most imaginative films I’ve seen in a while, broadly rewriting history to create a unique steampunk setting, one in which science and technology couldn’t develop beyond the Steam Age. Vegetation has been decimated by fuel needs, and the air is thick with industrial smoke, while the scientists that could improve things have vanished without a trace. After a fast-paced introduction in which everything is significant, we meet April Franklin (Marion Cotillard in the French version, Angela Galuppo in the English dub) and her brilliant family of fugitive scientists. Due to events best seen rather than described, April grows up alone with only her talking cat Darwin (a product of SCIENCE!), and her chemist’s quest for an immortality serum soon turns into a whirlwind adventure as the French government and a mysterious group with advanced technology vie for the scientific secrets of her family.

Animation allows its creators to fashion worlds limited only by their imagination, but most cartoons are content to imagine small. It’s usually Pixar or Ghibli that brings the medium to its full potential, but so does April and the Extraordinary World, which often feels like something one of those two powerhouses would have conceived. Where else are you going to see giant cable cars that run from Paris to Berlin or a helicopter plane escaping an underwater prison? The animation has the distinctive look of a European comic (apparently based on the work of French comic artist Jacques Tardi), and although it seems like it would take some getting used to, it actually flows quite nicely, with plenty of clever detail in the settings and backgrounds. It has strong characters to boot, from resourceful April herself to her quick-witted grandfather, though, as a cat lover, my favorite has to be the talking cat Darwin (Tony Hale in the dub, which also includes Paul Giamatti, J.K. Simmons, and Susan Sarandon).While the imagination is impressive, I could still recognize prior influences for April, most notably 2004’s Steamboy, another steampunk adventure featuring a young protagonist caught in the middle of a scientific power struggle with a similarly explosive ending. Plus, it’s hard to avoid comparisons to Ghibli when there’s an actual house atop mechanized legs á la Howl’s Moving Castle or a polluted atmosphere contrasted with a clean underground biome á la Nausicaä. You might also pick up on traces of Atlas Shrugged and Tomorrowland, though the latter was released the same year as this film. Regardless, April and the Extraordinary World brings all these disparate elements together into a thrilling package that’s better than most of the films I just mentioned.

With a complex and fast-paced storyline and a number of off-screen deaths, it does feel more intelligent and mature than your typical American cartoon (not to mention the detail put into Darwin’s backside), but there’s nothing to make it un-kid-friendly either. By the surprisingly satisfying end, I was just happy to have stumbled upon such an underrated gem, one that no fan of animation should miss.

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
563 Followers and Counting