Odd Thomas (2013)

Tags

Action, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, Horror, Mystery, Thriller

(Today’s final NaPoWriMo prompt was for a minimalist poem, and since I can’t quite understand how one word could be a poem, I’ll at least end the month with a short couplet.)

Perish the thought
That the perished are naught.
__________________

MPAA rating: apparently Not Rated? (should be PG-13)

Odd Thomas is one of those movies that makes me wonder why it’s not more popular. A starring vehicle for Anton Yelchin three years before his untimely death, this horror-comedy-mystery hybrid is an overall fun watch that made me want to check out the Dean Koontz novels on which it is based.

Odd (Yelchin, and yes, that is his first name) is what I would imagine Haley Joel Osment’s psychic character from The Sixth Sense might grow up into, an everyday fry cook and oddball whose ability to see dead people aids in bringing justice to killers and peace to their victims. Further supported by a trusting detective (Willem Dafoe) and Odd’s devoted girlfriend Stormy (Addison Timlin), he also can see vicious spirits called bodachs who are attracted to evil, and when an especially large number appear in town, he knows some great calamity is close at hand.

This is yet another movie that floors me with how low its Rotten Tomatoes score is (a mere 36%) when I’d place it solidly in the 70s or 80s. I’ve read that some were annoyed by the lovey-dovey dialogue between Odd and Stormy, but they really make a cute couple so I don’t begrudge the film its bit of romance.

As for the horror-comedy side, those who enjoyed the mix in The Mummy will likely enjoy this one too, since Stephen Sommers directed and wrote both. The mystery is actually quite riveting, by the end especially, and finds a good balance between human evil and its supernatural side that only Odd can see. With its tepid reviews and the loss of its lead actor, it’s a shame that Odd Thomas will probably never get the sequel it deserves. It’s the kind of film I can see putting on every time it’s on TV, and I gladly will.

Best line: (Odd) “I see dead people, but then, by God, I do something about it.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
628 Followers and Counting

 

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Ralph Breaks the Internet (2018)

Tags

Animation, Comedy, Disney, Family, Fantasy

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a remix of a Shakespearean sonnet, so I took some inspiration from the theme and first line of Sonnet 141, mixed in to fit a friendship theme of this film.)

In faith, I do not love you with my eyes;
You’re not the most appealing sight, you know.
Your voice can grate; you’re anything but wise;
And every chance you get, you tend to blow.
I’m not your friend for mere appearance’ sake;
If so, I would have bolted long ago.
And yet you’re first in mind when I awake
And last to fade beneath my sleep’s shadow.
It’s true to most our pairing seems bizarre,
So different by the judgment of the crowd,
Yet you as friend are dearer still by far
Than what the world approves or not out loud.
I dread the day you tire of our bond,
For I can see no life for me beyond.
___________________

MPAA rating:  PG

It’s hard to believe that Disney has resisted sequelizing its own animated films for so long. Sure, they’ve churned out plenty of substandard sequels through their separate animation subsidiaries, but Ralph Breaks the Internet is the first sequel since Rescuers Down Under to be included among Disney Animation’s official canon. Of course, this year’s Frozen 2 suggests a continuation of the sequel trend, but I was glad to find that Ralph Breaks the Internet was a funny and worthwhile continuation of the first film.

Some have called it a Toy Story rip-off, but I still think 2012’s Wreck-It Ralph had one of the most imaginative premises of any Disney film. Ralph’s quest to be a hero may have been basic motivation, but the inventiveness of the visuals and world-building was delightful. Not surprisingly, Ralph Breaks the Internet continues that visual innovation, taking Ralph (John C. Reilly) and his best friend, the semi-annoying cart-racing princess Vanellope (Sarah Silverman), outside their arcade home and into the wide and wondrous world of the Internet, visualized as a bustling cityscape of possibilities. The same voice actors thankfully return to deepen their character’s bonds, along with the welcome new voices of Gal Gadot, Bill Hader, and Taraji P. Henson.

While Wreck-It Ralph was certainly successful, it did have some detractors who didn’t entirely buy into the story, my VC among them. Yet one thing I noticed from some critical and blogger reviews was that those who didn’t care for the first film somehow liked the second one better. Sure enough, my VC enjoyed herself with it, and I’m still trying to puzzle out why this one and not the other. I suppose it’s partially that she has never been into gaming, while her familiarity with the Internet helped her understand and enjoy the sequel’s many jokes aimed at online culture, from the intrusion of pop-up ads to the absurd allure of YouTube stardom (or BuzzTube in the film). Oh, and let’s not forget the brilliant cameos of other Disney properties, most notably the Disney Princess lineup, all but three voiced by their original actresses. Sure, it smacks of Disney showing off everything they own, but it left me with a nerdy grin in the same way Ready Player One’s mashup of pop culture did.

Beyond the jokes and setting, Ralph Breaks the Internet is different from most other animated flicks of recent years, in that its conflict is much more internal and emotional than your basic defeat-the-villain climax. Ralph’s friendship with Vanellope is first and foremost, and his own insecurity provides fuel for the finale. It’s hard to say the resolution is subtle, when it’s taken to massive, ridiculously metaphorical heights, but it’s uniquely relatable to anyone who’s been reluctant to lose a friend.

It’s hard to say how Ralph Breaks the Internet will age, with so many of its meme-y jokes and sub-themes based in current Internet culture, which seems to change on a weekly basis. Future generations may roll their eyes at its potential datedness, but for me here and now, it was a whimsical, stunningly animated delight just like the first film. I would have liked a bit more of Fix-It Felix and Calhoun, who are basically cameos, but Ralph and Vanellope provide a sweeter conclusion than I would have guessed from a film about video game characters. (By the way, it has possibly my favorite post-credits scene ever. I guess I’m a sucker for certain memes.)

 

Rank: List-Worthy (joining the first film)

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
627 Followers and Counting

 

Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991)

Tags

Comedy, Fantasy, Sci-fi

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem based on the way people normally talk, so I poked fun at the devolution of the English language. Best read with a valley girl/guy accent.)

Have you ever, like, noticed how people, like, talk,
Contracting their verbs into mush?
It’s, you know, “I wanna,” “I’m gonna,” and stuff
That’d make Noah Webster, like, blush.

I don’t know how English, like, got to this point,
But I follow it to the letter.
It’s, you know, like, likely you like how you talk,
But other folks shoulda learned better.
_______________

MPAA rating: PG

It may have only taken two years for Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure to get a sequel, but it took me at least a decade to finally catch up with their Bogus Journey. There’s something about the first film that’s so absurdly entertaining, so I wanted to believe that that creative lightning would strike again with the sequel.

The first film had a goal specified early on, gathering historical figures so Bill (Alex Winter) and Ted (Keanu Reeves) don’t flunk history and ruin the future in the process. In this one, the plot rambles even more, as an ambitious baddie in the future (Joss Ackland) sends evil Bill and Ted robots back in time to kill the good Bill and Ted and pave the way for their master’s reign. I’ll just ignore how absurd the plan is and how the bad guy doesn’t seem to understand how altering the past works. The film’s original title was Bill and Ted Go to Hell, a fitting option as the plot veers away from sci-fi and pits the dimwitted duo against the Grim Reaper (white-faced William Sadler, unrecognizable compared with his roles in Shawshank or The Green Mile).

Of course, it was fun revisiting Bill and Ted and their valley-guy nomenclature, with even a cameo from George Carlin, and Winter and Reeves fit these roles like two chuckleheaded gloves. I did get a kick out of the film’s reference to Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal and its game against Death (as well as the realization that this film surely inspired the cartoon series The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy). Yet for all its humor, I didn’t laugh very often, and the rampant silliness just didn’t quite match the “educated stupidity,” as I call it, of the first film.

It’s telling when one film has “Excellent” in the title and the next one has “Bogus.” This sequel isn’t bad and even quite amusing with some quotable gems, but perhaps I need to see it a few more times before I can embrace its cult classic status. With the announcement of a long-awaited third film entitled Bill and Ted Face the Music, I’m hoping the next one will be better.

Best line: (Bill, after seeing hell) “We got totally lied to by our album covers, man.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
627 Followers and Counting

 

Chicken with Plums (2011)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a mournful elegy about the physical rather than the abstract. Thus, I focused on the everyday grief that doesn’t always make itself visible.)

I grieve every day but don’t show it.
None see it, of course, but I do.
No moistened eyelashes,
No sackcloth and ashes,
It’s deeper and yet no less true.

I grieve in the taste of the chicken
That never tastes quite like it did
When Mother would heighten
My senses and brighten
My day with the lift of a lid.

I grieve at the sound of the classics,
The ones that my father proclaimed
Were better by far
Than the modern songs are,
To which I agreed or was shamed.

I grieve at the touch of an afghan,
Hand-knitted with love in each thread.
Its knots and defects
Made the knitter perplexed,
But now they are precious instead.

I grieve where the world in its hurry
Has left things of value behind.
Don’t doubt I’m sincere
If I don’t shed a tear;
They moisten my heart and my mind.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

It was three years ago this very month that I reviewed Marjane Satrapi’s animated drama Persepolis as part of NaPoWriMo. That film was such a refreshingly unique experience that I knew I had to check out her next film, which, like Persepolis, was also based off her own graphic novel. Chicken with Plums may not be animated, but its similarity of style is equally praiseworthy, just on a far less consistent level than its predecessor.

Told in French and set in 1950s Iran, Chicken with Plums is the story of a man who decides to die. After his critical wife (Maria de Medeiros) smashes his beloved violin, the famed concert pianist Nasser-Ali (Mathieu Amalric) loses his will to live, lying in bed awaiting death and dreaming of the past and future. The narrative is far from linear, interspersed with subjective thoughts of how his children will grow up, memories of his success, and bizarre fantasies (hugging a giant pair of breasts, for example). It’s a weird mix as the tone swings wildly from obnoxious slapstick to pensive reminiscences, and not all of it works.

However, what does work is outstanding, at least on a visual level. The settings and overall aesthetic have the dated, magical aura of yesteryear, with a carefully crafted artistry that I could compare to that of Wes Anderson if he had half the idiosyncrasies. Satrapi’s vision of 1950s Iran oddly has the look and feel of Europe, reminding us how western-leaning the nation was before the Revolution, as detailed in Persepolis. And the acting is certainly on point, with Amalric of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly fame once more proving his thespian skill.

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Chicken with Plums up until the ending, where the story takes a sublimely bittersweet turn that is crushing in its emotional resonance. It’s a rare and beautiful melancholy replete with the story’s themes of music, heartache, and loss; it may not quite fit with many parts of the film but still ended it on a high note of poignancy.

Best line:  (Nasser-Ali’s music teacher, speaking of his initial music) “Sounds come out. But it is empty. It is barren. It is nothing. Life is a breath; life is a sigh. It is this sigh that you must seize.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

I Am Dragon (2015)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to present “a scene from an unusual point of view.” Thus, I took the fairy tale terror of a dragon carrying off a young maiden and provided the dragon’s angle.)

I am the dragon, the lizard of lore,
So hated and feared by mankind.
From the sky do I hunt,
And I take what I want
From the men who wince under my roar.
From the day that I hatched,
I’ve had power unmatched,
A monster by nature designed.

Now in my talons, I carry a girl,
Flown higher than humans would dare.
I made my attack
With the thought of a snack
And escaped with my prize in a whirl.
Her kin now must mourn,
For their cold-blooded thorn
Has taken her back to his lair.

Gladly, I’d deem her my prey to devour,
As dragons by nature must do,
And yet in her face
Is a vestige, a trace
Of a feeling confronting my power.
No man is my match,
But this woman I catch
Offers something I cannot subdue.
_______________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (could be PG, maybe more PG-13)

It’s rare that a film feels like a fairy tale, not just a Hollywood version of one but an original fairy tale with its roots firmly planted in romance and the fantasy culture of a nation. In the case of I Am Dragon (or He’s a Dragon), that nation is Russia. Based on the Russian novel The Ritual, the result is a film that tows the line between epic and sappy but is beautifully mounted and appealingly dignified compared with what I imagine a Hollywood version might look like.

A prologue explains how a dragon once terrorized a medieval village, carrying away the innocent maidens offered to him as sacrifices until the day a hero slew the beast. Fast forward then to the arranged wedding of free-spirited Princess Miroslava (Maria Poezzhaeva), or Mira, who is none too thrilled with her appointed husband. In a case of unwise history-rebranding, someone thought it would be a good idea to use the old dragon-summoning song during the ceremony, and everyone is shocked when the dragon reappears to carry Mira away. Mira soon awakens on the dragon’s remote island lair, where a handsome young man she names Arman (Matvey Lykov) proves to be a charming but conflicted host.

I won’t say any “spoilers” outright, but as you can probably surmise from my description, this is like a Russian version of Beauty and the Beast, with some very clear echoes to the Disney version of events. However, with a dragon taking the place of the Beast and an almost Game of Thrones-style aesthetic, it’s a successful variation of the familiar tale, which is also leagues better than Disney’s cringe-worthy live-action version.

As for the romance, there’s certainly chemistry between Mira and Arman, the former headstrong and adventurous, the latter self-loathing and in need of love. The island setting, though, along with Arman’s perpetually shirtless self does make the romantic scenes feel like something out of a Harlequin novel, albeit one with surprisingly grand production values, atmospheric music, and impressive CGI. (I even included the above image from this film in the top right picture of my fantasy banner.)

It really depends on your capacity for potentially mawkish love stories, but for me, I Am Dragon had enough high fantasy to outweigh the few corny moments, and the romance was still engaging and carried weight while thankfully keeping things PG for the most part. I’m glad to have stumbled upon this admirable fantasy, which makes me think that little-known Russian cinema can hold its own against Hollywood’s more publicized output.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

Into the Woods (2014)

Tags

Disney, Drama, Fantasy, Musical

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a villanelle, a special form with alternating repeated lines as below, and the prompt suggested incorporating someone else’s words. The repeated lines I used are drawn from the musical Into the Woods, along with part of the theme.)

Careful the tale you tell,
For tales are not words but adventures and fates;
All stories cast a spell.

They conjure the best and worst places to dwell,
And leave you in clouds or burdened by weights.
Careful the tale you tell.

Emotions on strings as they rise and repel
Are pulled by the magic that fiction creates.
All stories cast a spell.

No louche Casanova, no wish from a well
Has broken more hearts or honored more dates.
Careful the tale you tell.

Each one is a world and a ceiling-less cell,
Where soon-to-be-friends and a new home awaits.
All stories cast a spell.

When fantasy finally bids you farewell,
How do you feel as the world deviates?
Careful the tale you tell;
All stories cast a spell.
______________________

MPAA rating:  PG

Those familiar with this blog might already know that I’m a huge fan of musicals. While others roll their eyes or cringe at all-sung films like Les Miserables, I love it. There’s something about the combination of song, lyric, dance, and story that I find particularly appealing and entertaining. However, not all musicals are equal, and all four (sometimes three minus dance) of those ingredients have to be on point for the magic to work. Into the Woods comes so close to nailing them all, yet by the end, I could only wonder what went wrong.

Based on Stephen Sondheim’s popular musical, which is just as old as The Phantom of the Opera, Into the Woods weaves multiple fairy tale stories together: Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, Cinderella (Anna Kendrick), Rapunzel, and an original connecting tale of a Baker (James Corden) and his Wife (Emily Blunt) seeking out spell ingredients for a desperate Witch (Meryl Streep). The way the stories blend together and overlap, playing out in familiar ways with unexpected connections, is a joy to watch, especially with hammy but committed performances from Johnny Depp, Chris Pine, and Streep (who shockingly got an Oscar nomination; she’s good, but this is probably her least deserving role).

It’s a highly enjoyable movie, or rather two-thirds of a movie, because at a certain point, it’s just…ruined. At a happy moment that could have ended the film well, the story suddenly takes a left turn into disaster and tragedy and shattered reputations. It’s a dark move, which is apparently even darker in the stage version, and it saps most of the enjoyment from the film as a whole.

Even if none of the songs are instant classics likely to live long in the memory, the music is the saving grace of Into the Woods. My VC thought the tunes were a bit too repetitious, lacking the complexity or vocal range of Phantom or Les Mis, but, as a poet, I especially admired the clever lyrics and rhymes. It has outstanding production values and strong performances too, but in its effort to offer a darkly unsatisfying take on beloved stories, this fractured fairy tale proves to be a failed musical in my book. My VC and I agree that we would recommend the first two thirds; just bail when the tale goes to pot.

Best line: (the Baker’s Wife) “Oh, if life were made of moments, even now and then a bad one – But if life were only moments, then you’d never know you had one.”

 

Rank:  Dishonorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
619 Followers and Counting

 

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

 

2018 Blindspot Pick #12: Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, War

The world can be cruel and compromising,
Goodness crumbling, evil rising.
Such a fact isn’t at all surprising;
Simply look around to see.

But harder to view is where the fantastic,
Magic subtle and not bombastic,
Turns the desolate and the drastic
Into beauty’s final fee.

And when the fee is finally paid,
The horrors that happen when humans degrade
Are quickly forgotten, and when they fade,
We welcome sweet reality.
______________________

MPAA rating: R (mainly for violence)

Sorry for the longer-than-expected hiatus lately. I’ve been in the midst of the busiest time of my class project, and just graduated from the program, so now I’m job hunting but also have a little more extra time to post again. I hate that my 2018 Blindspots have run so late into 2019, but I just have this one last review to finish off what I began a year ago! So before I announce the Blindspots for 2019, it’s time to cover Pan’s Labyrinth, Guillermo del Toro’s acclaimed Spanish fantasy.

I didn’t realize when I picked them, but my 2018 Blindspots have introduced me to some directors that I only knew by reputation. I’d never seen a Charlie Kaufman-written movie before Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and I’d only seen one other Billy Wilder film before Some Like It Hot. Surprisingly, I’d also never seen a Guillermo del Toro-directed movie either, so Pan’s Labyrinth was like a fresh initiation into the Oscar-winning director’s style. And what a style! Pan’s Labyrinth is as skillfully directed a film as I’ve ever seen, and it’s mind-boggling to me that del Toro wasn’t nominated for a directing Oscar that year, though it did win deservingly for Cinematography, Production Design, and Makeup. The movements of the camera, often changing scenes as it passes behind an object, lends the film a lucid fairy tale quality, despite the contrast of its more true-to-life content.

The storyline is also engaging, split between the realistic and the magical. Young Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) is taken by her pregnant mother (Ariadna Gil) to a military base in the woods in 1944 Francoist Spain. There, Ofelia’s merciless new stepfather, Captain Vidal (Sergi López) is hunting down armed rebels and eagerly waiting like Henry VIII for his wife to bear him a son. Meanwhile, Ofelia discovers a mysterious faun (Doug Jones) in a nearby labyrinth, who gives her three tasks in order to supposedly claim her rightful place as princess of the underworld.

At times, the juxtaposition of truth and myth don’t quite mix. When rebels are fighting and dying on the battlefield, it’s a bit hard to care about Ofelia’s forays into fantasy, which may or may not be real themselves. Yet these fantasy sections remain the most memorable, offering the film’s most lasting creature creations, and even these flights of imagination remain somewhat grounded in life-and-death stakes, harkening back to the grimness of the original fairy tales. You know it’s a fantasy when there are giant toads and transforming fairies; you know it’s a dark fantasy when a monster with eyes on its hands bites the heads off those fairies!

Personally, I thought the film as a whole was much more graphic than it needed to be, whether it be some unflinchingly brutal battlefield violence or a firsthand look at how the Joker got his scars. Even so, Pan’s Labyrinth has craft to spare, particularly in its enchanting score and the ornate production design and makeup work of its fantasy elements, laudably brought to life with a bare minimum of CGI. The ending is especially moving, combining the climax of its real-life and fantasy stories into a bittersweet conclusion that artfully leaves its interpretation up to the viewer. It left me haunted in a way great cinema should, and even if not everything melded perfectly, Pan’s Labyrinth proved to be a very worthwhile Blindspot pick.

Best line:  (Captain Vidal) “You could have obeyed me!”   (Doctor) “But Captain, to obey – just like that – for obedience’s sake… without questioning… That’s something only people like you do.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
601 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
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