(For Day 9 of NaPoWriMo, the prompt was for an ode to an everyday object. While it may not be in everyone’s house, I’m sure many have a manuscript or poems or drawings they’re too nervous to share with the world, so I addressed this irregular sonnet to them.)
You mock me, you pile of papers, You unread manuscript, hiding in the corner. You say “Am I not fruit of all your labors? Am I not worth another pair of eyes? Is it better to be a cipher than a mourner, Lest someone dare to share or criticize? I’ll outlive you, your fear and blushing cheeks; I’ll wait till someone else will spy my corner And read what you had guarded from critiques And grieve its author’s sad, unknown demise.” I know that’s what you’re saying as time flies, The time that’s killing me and stalling you. The world can’t know what’s missing till it peeks, Until the shy apply for their debut. ____________________
MPA rating: Not Rated (should be PG for some drama but quite clean)
While not every international run can be on the level of Your Name or The Boy and the Heron, I am quite glad that smaller anime films are getting at least a limited release in American theaters, even if it takes a year to get here. The Tunnel to Summer, the Exit of Goodbyes may have a rather cumbersome title, but it’s one of the better under-the-radar anime movies, with appealing animation and a nice short runtime to deliver its poignant themes.
Kaoru is a high school student living in quiet grief with his abusive father, and he forms a bond with equally aloof transfer student Anzu, a budding manga artist unsure of her own talent (and inspiring the poem above). The two happen upon the fabled Urashima tunnel, which can supposedly grant a person’s greatest wish for a price. Mirroring the Urashima namesake, which is basically the equivalent of Rip Van Winkle in Japanese folklore, they discover that time passes differently inside the tunnel, where glowing trees line a watery path to their distant wish. After performing experiments on the tunnel’s strange properties, the duo must decide whether their wishes are worth giving up on their current life.
While there are plenty of films with this same romance-plus-supernatural storyline, I liked the natural progression of both, as the two main characters are actually smart about testing the temporal phenomenon, while also growing closer in the process. Though it can’t quite compare in scale or artistry, the film had some similarities to Your Name, and I suspect fans of one will also enjoy the other. It may be largely predictable, but The Tunnel to Summer, the Exit of Goodbyes is a lovely little movie to satisfy fans of star-crossed romance.
(For Day 28 of NaPoWriMo, the prompt was for an index-like poem, so I chose the word “door” as my index word for a pair of haikus, since doors are so prominent in this film.)
Opens and closes; Keep in or keep out; slam it; Lock it; lose the key.
Don’t dare to open; Outside the gates; slipping through; Miss the other side. ____________________
MPA rating: PG
In the same way cinephiles look forward to the next Christoper Nolan or Quentin Tarantino movie, anime fans eagerly await the advent of the next Makoto Shinkai film. I was excited to finally see his latest called Suzume in the theater, months after its Japanese premiere, and it had everything Shinkai does well: pouring rain, desperate running, eye-popping cataclysms, poignant reunions, all rendered in some of the most gorgeous animation this side of KyoAni. Yet it’s hard to forget that everything he creates will inevitably be compared to Your Name, the record-breaking blockbuster that put Shinkai on the international map. It’s a tough comparison, but Suzume still excels at the same kind of emotion-backed fantasy.
Suzume (Nanoka Hara), the title character, is a rural high school girl who directs an attractive visitor named Sota (Hokuto Matsumura) to some nearby ruins for which he is searching. When she follows out of curiosity, she discovers that a long-dormant evil has started breaking into our world to cause disasters, using doorways in abandoned areas as gateways that must be closed. When Sota is inexplicably cursed and transformed into… ahem, a chair, Suzume runs away from home to help him complete his mission, further complicated by a mischievous talking cat. (I loved a brief reference to Whisper of the Heart when the cat is spotted on a train.)
I’ll admit the chair part is a little hard to take seriously at first, especially since it forever labels this movie as “the one where a girl falls in love with a chair.” But if you roll with it, the object does take on greater meaning as a precious heirloom for Suzume, and there’s fun to be had with the absurdity of it. As the plot becomes a buddy road trip across Japan (a “meet-‘em-and-move-on” as I call them), it’s a little hard to believe how many people seem fine with supporting a runaway girl and letting her continue on her way. Yet it’s also an opportunity to take a peek into various lives she passes, which I always enjoy.
It’s interesting that two anime in the same year (this film and Drifting Home) both put a focus on the large number of abandoned areas throughout Japan, including a ferris wheel specifically, places that were once full of life and now have only echoes of what was. True to Shinkai form, the emotions grow with time, and even if Suzume and Sota ultimately just met, the bond and distress born from their relationship are highly affecting at the film’s emotional high points.
Even if I recognize the film’s faults, like the rather thin story fueled by contrivance, Shinkai just has a captivating style that is easy to get sucked into, aided by striking visuals and iconic music by the band Radwimps, his frequent collaborator. If Suzume had come out before Your Name and Weathering with You, I think I would love it more without the comparison, but I can’t quite say it’s better than them while sharing the same DNA. It did surpass Weathering with You to become the fourth highest-grossing Japanese film ever (right behind Your Name), so Shinkai still has enormous box office draw. It would be nice if he can step a little further out from under his own shadow, but I’m still very much a fan.
(For Day 23 of NaPoWriMo, the prompt was for a poem in numbered sections about a place I no longer visit as much. The best example I could think of was my old elementary school, so I imagined the various places abandoned and nostalgic.)
I I remember they filed in one at a time, Students alert to the school bell’s chime. My classroom became their knowledge base, And I kept them all safe in my walls’ embrace. I was their path To history, math, The parts of the cell, and the subjective case. Those who I held left smarter by far, But now I do wonder where all of them are.
II I remember they joined me at tables so long That both ends could easily sing their own song. They pulled out their lunches so lovingly packed Or else I provided whatever they lacked. I was their meal, Their chance to be real, To trade and upgrade and get caught in the act. The hungry were happy and brought up to par, But now I do wonder where all of them are.
III I remember they ran with unparalleled glee To climb on my monkey bars, wild and free. My stretches of rubber mulch, bordered by sand, Gave them their chances to fall and crash-land. I was their play, The peak of their day, A time to recess from the teacher’s command. I was the source of both smile and scar, But now I do wonder where all of them are. _____________________________________
MPA rating: PG
While Makoto Shinkai and Mamoru Hosoda are the biggest names in anime films, there are plenty of other studios in the mix, such as Studio Colorido, which has an ongoing partnership with Netflix. With films like A Whisker Away and Drifting Home, they bring some welcome Ghibli-esque fantasy to the streaming service. In Drifting Home, a group of children go exploring in the abandoned apartment building where Kosuke and his childhood friend Natsume used to live with Kosuke’s grandfather. After the two have an argument, the building somehow ends up floating in the middle of the ocean, forcing the kids to survive off what they can scavenge.
While the premise could have become mere escapism for the children, the story actually puts them in real danger, with limited resources and a crumbling structure as their only refuge from the sea. The characters themselves are not anything special and sometimes grating, though the conflict between Kosuke and Natsume carries weight as they both reacted differently to the death of Kosuke’s grandfather, a loss which haunts their relationship and perhaps the apartment itself.
Beyond the survival aspects and interpersonal drama, a prominent theme involves the inherent grief of buildings and structures that were once full of life and activity but have become abandoned over time. It’s an interesting concept of a place having its own form of sorrow and passing away. Drifting Home may not stand out as much as other anime films, but it’s a lovely smaller effort highlighting how we connect to the places we grow up.
(For Day 16 of NaPoWriMo, the prompt was for a poem of negation, describing something in terms of what it is not. Since the main characters of this film struggle in being reformed, I wrote up a list of what good guys don’t do.)
A good guy doesn’t rob a bank Or overflow a septic tank Or steal a precious, priceless gem Or cause unwarranted mayhem.
They do not blow up oil rigs Or feast on captive guinea pigs Or lead police on reckless chases, Fleeing to their secret bases.
A good guy would not live off lies As a master of disguise, And they should not win a game Based on whom they kill or maim.
A truly good guy won’t consent To hack the grid or government, … Well, unless they have a good reason, No, nevermind, that could be treason.
But most of all, a real good guy Does not cheat or steal or lie, Even if they’re unsuspected (Not unless they’ve been elected). ____________________
MPA rating: PG
While Puss in Boots: The Last Wish got well-deserved acclaim last year, the other 2022 film from DreamWorks Animation was also a pleasant surprise. Based on an Aaron Blabey graphic novel series for children, The Bad Guys features the titular posse of menacing animals – Wolf (Sam Rockwell), Snake (Marc Maron), Piranha (Anthony Ramos), Tarantula (Awkwafina), and Shark (Craig Robinson) – whose crime spree is brought to an end after a botched heist. Yet the criminal gang is given a chance to prove they can be reformed into good guys with the help of a do-gooder guinea pig (Richard Ayoade) and a foxy governor (Zazie Beetz).
First off, as an animation fan, I thought this film’s visual style was an absolute treat! It partakes in the now-familiar fusion of 2D and 3D ushered in by Into the Spider-Verse yet uses it for a distinct comic-book look that has a delightful smoothness to it, both in character design and movement. It’s probably best not to think too hard about the world of mostly humans, a few sentient animals, and otherwise normal animals, but the main troop have a great dynamic as their unique skills complement each other during heists, particularly the inventive uses of Snake’s long body despite lacking limbs. Wolf and Governor Foxington have an amazing amount of chemistry between them, while a police chief (Alex Borstein) intent on capturing the Bad Guys has some clear parallels with Inspector Zenigata of the Lupin III series, especially during the opening car chase.
DreamWorks has made some questionable creative choices, like focusing way too much on The Boss Baby, but movies like this and Puss in Boots have reignited my interest in what they’ll do next. Puss had weightier themes, but The Bad Guys is suave, cartoonish fun, incorporating the plotting and intrigue of heist movies with a believable redemption arc that stresses responsibility and the difficulty of earning back trust. Add in a catchy song for Anthony Ramos and some thrilling action scenes, and it’s the kind of animated film I would have loved growing up. Considering DreamWorks put the main characters in their recent updated logo sequence, I’m hoping this will become a worthwhile series.
Best line: (Diane Foxington, when Wolf insists no one will accept them as good guys) “Maybe they will believe you, maybe they won’t. But it doesn’t matter. Don’t do it for them. Do it for you. This is a chance to write your own story, to find a better life for you and your friends. Come on, what have you got to lose?”
(For Day 10 of NaPoWriMo, the prompt was for a sea shanty, a form I’ve had fun with before. This film seemed like an ideal match, considering it features its own tavern shanty praising its legendary sea captain.)
When out on the waters, be wary, my lad. Don’t rest on the other adventures you’ve had. You’re only a squatter; you’re just a nomad, Compared with the creatures who call the sea home.
Enjoy the wide ocean, her salty sweet kiss, And balk at the notion there’s land that you miss, But don’t let devotion declaw the abyss. It’s waiting to claim all ye sailors who roam.
So empty your flagons, and I’ll empty mine. Go board your sea wagons, your ships of the line. You know there be dragons somewhere in the brine, But that’s where the fun is, out there on the foam. ________________________
MPA rating: PG
I am all for more animation studios throwing their hats in the ring alongside Disney, Pixar, DreamWorks, and Illumination, and luckily Netflix is willing to support such independent efforts. If the absence of more Pirates of the Caribbean has left you wanting for swashbuckling action, The Sea Beast aims to scratch that itch. Set in a world in which high-seas hunters pursue giant ocean monsters, the film follows brave hero Jacob Holland (Karl Urban) as he tries to help his vengeful Captain Crow (Jared Harris) to track down and kill the fabled Red Bluster, while also dealing with a precocious stowaway named Maisie (Zaris-Angel Hator).
The first half of The Sea Beast is a thrilling joy. The battles against aquatic behemoths are stunningly animated, recalling the similar fight against the Kraken in Dead Man’s Chest, and their size and menace could effectively trigger some latent thalassophobia. The characterizations of Jacob and his adopted father figure Crow are well-written and engaging, while Maisie is a spunky addition to the crew and a perfect stand-in for kid viewers. It seemed to be a refreshingly fun adventure, and though I wouldn’t say it goes off the rails, the second half weighed the film down with a message far too similar to How to Train Your Dragon, revising the initial conflict to tell us most of the monsters are merely misunderstood. Though the film has some perceptive lessons about even heroes being in the wrong, as well as the danger of history being written with an agenda, I can’t help but wish that the plot had remained a straightforward man-vs-nature adventure.
The Sea Beast may have been overshadowed by the likes of Puss in Boots and Pinocchio, but it deserved its Oscar nomination for Best Animated Feature. Despite the familiarity of many plot elements, it excels in seafaring derring-do and the charisma of its lead characters, so I look forward to what other adventures might await in a sequel.
Best line: (Jacob, of his fallen hunter predecessors) “Aye, they were heroes. But you can be a hero and still be wrong.”
Why waste your youth on worry? Why brood on doubt and death? When in your prime, You have the time To not count every breath.
It’s normal to be stupid, Or so the stupid say. The less you heed, The less you need To care about each day.
But age, regret, or wisdom Eventually take hold To some degree. Stupidity Dies out before it’s old.
It’s up to each what value Upon their life is placed. But when the fun And games are done, Don’t let it be a waste. _____________________________
MPA rating: PG
I would not have expected one of my favorite films from last year to be a sequel separated from its franchise by eleven years, from a studio I thought I had stopped caring about. In 2022, DreamWorks Animation delivered two of their strongest films in recent years, first with The Bad Guys and then with the long-neglected sequel Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. Both clearly took inspiration from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse in their dynamic, painterly animation style merging 2D and 3D, but Puss in Boots also managed to integrate it with the existing style of Shrek, to masterly effect. You may have heard others singing this film’s praises in recent months, and yep, I’m one of them.
The first Puss in Boots film was a fun standalone adventure, a spin-off of the Shrek universe focusing on Antonio Banderas’ fan-favorite character Puss in Boots, the dashing outlaw/legend of the fairy tale world. Whereas that was an origin story, The Last Wish focuses on the latter days of Puss’s illustrious career, after he’s frittered away eight of his nine lives and has grown complacent laughing in the face of death. When a mysterious wolf proves to be too much for him, the feline swordsman feels he has no choice but to retire. Yet the promise of a wish sends him rushing to find a fallen star, alongside his old flame Kitty Softpaws (Salma Hayek Pinault), an incessantly friendly dog (Harvey Guillén), and a collection of more cutthroat wish-seekers.
Puss in Boots can seem like the kind of character better suited for a sidekick role, his self-aggrandizing personality most appealing in small doses. Yet The Last Wish uses that to its advantage in making the preservation of that façade Puss’s driving goal while simultaneously poking holes in it through the other characters. Kitty is the only returning character from the prior film, and she represents what Puss has given up for the sake of his ego. And Guillén’s nameless mutt, nicknamed Perrito, is the kind of character that promises to be annoying yet is infectiously nice enough to win anyone over, even his begrudging feline comrades who aren’t used to unbridled sincerity.
The villains are a special highlight, an entertaining mix of characters and motivations, from Big Jack Horner (John Mulaney) as the straight evil mastermind to Goldilocks (Florence Pugh) and the Three Bears (Ray Winstone, Olivia Colman, and Samson Kayo) as a Cockney crime family with more sympathetic edges. And then there’s the Wolf (Wagner Moura), one of the best animated antagonists in recent memory, who has such an effectively chilling presence that it’s no wonder the ever fearless Puss in Boots quakes at his stark whistle. All these characters clashing periodically on the way to a shared goal may seem overly frenetic at times, but their distinct motives and the way they bounce off each other make for a highly enjoyable quest, kept unpredictable by genius creative touches like a map that changes the terrain depending on who holds it open.
Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is a triumphant return for the long-dormant Shrek universe. It excels in that rare balance of light entertainment for kids and subtler serious themes for adults, such as the looming specter of mortality or the easily missed value of a found family. Banderas steps into the role with panache, like he never left it; Mulaney sounds like he’s having a blast hamming it up as a power-hungry villain; and Guillén brings a perfect adorability to Perrito, who is the true heart of the film. And the beautifully rendered action is top notch, using the Spider-Verse similarities to its own stylistic advantage rather than just being a copycat.
I distinctly remember watching Shrek 2 as a kid because my mom surprised me with a visit to the movies after school, and it just happened to be a great one. Somehow, I got the feeling that some kid today is going to look back on Puss in Boots: The Last Wish with the same fondness. As much as Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio deserved its accolades, I really wish that it hadn’t overshadowed DreamWorks’ best film in years. But, as this movie testifies, there are more important things than wishes anyway.
Best line (showing great comedic interactions): (Goldilocks) “I thought you were on a spiritual retreat.” (Kitty Softpaws) “Namaste.” (Goldilocks) “And you’re supposed to be dead!” (Puss) “I got better.”
(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was rather detailed, to “recall someone you used to know closely but are no longer in touch with, then a job you used to have but no longer do, and then a piece of art that you saw once and that has stuck with you over time. Finally, close the poem with an unanswerable question.” I decided to adapt the prompt to the viewpoint of a character from this film.)
He made me laugh until the day He made me cry and went away. Though where he’s gone I cannot say, I like to think he rues that day.
My sister worked me to the bone When she was young and trouble-prone, But now that she is nearly grown, I hate to think of her alone.
I still recall the song he played, And when my sister can be swayed, She plays and makes me wish he’d stayed. Why can’t I let the memories fade? _______________________________
MPA rating: Not Rated (a tame PG-13)
While modern anime films are dominated by Mamoru Hosoda and Makoto Shinkai (plus the plethora of films based on existing properties), there are some underrated original gems that don’t get as much attention as they should. Her Blue Sky is yet another example of the poignancy so easily captured by writer Mari Okada, known for emotion-heavy tearjerkers like The Anthem of the Heartand Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms. This one doesn’t really aim for tears as those do, but it certainly appeals to one’s sense of nostalgia and the regret that comes with looking back at how much we change over the years.
Set in the mountainous Chichibu area (where Okada was born herself), the film focuses on a young bassist named Aoi and her older sister Akane, who has cared for Aoi alone for the last thirteen years, choosing this responsibility over running off to Tokyo with her musician boyfriend Shinno. As a music festival approaches, Aoi remembers her fondness for Shinno and is shocked when he appears in her shed, looking exactly as he did thirteen years ago. While she suspects he is a ghost, the arrival of a grown, still-living Shinno back to town catches them off-guard, and the difference between his optimistic younger self and jaded older self puts both sisters through the emotional ringer.
While some may be disappointed at the lack of explanation for the supernatural elements, especially during a climactic sequence that is both delightfully touching and a little silly-looking, Shinno’s younger self is supposedly an ikiryō, a Japanese spirit that can manifest from a living person, a bit of interesting folklore I didn’t know, much like the 1970s song “Gondhara,” which features prominently in the film. The animation is a treat, with particular detail afforded to the instrument-playing, which is so often obscured to avoid the effort of animating authentic performances, and I’ve always enjoyed the character designs of this creative team, who previously worked on shows like Toradora.
While Aoi’s moody teenager shell may seem pretentious at first, her relationship with her sister is strained but quite sweet, as are the interactions with Shinno as she questions her feelings toward her sister’s ex. Thankfully, it all wraps up in a satisfying end, which is surprising since much of that end is only suggested in still images during the end credits. Her Blue Sky isn’t very easy to find and doesn’t even have an English dub yet, but it’s a small and tender drama of music and sisterhood that is worth seeking out.
(Good Friday and work obligations sadly made me miss yesterday, but I’m back on the wagon. Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a curtal sonnet, an 11-line sonnet variant from Gerard Manley Hopkins.)
In the realm of cyberspace I hide, Comforted by anonymity. My flesh-self is content behind its smokescreen. Robed in pixels, I can roam with pride, Finding other introverts to agree, Minorities like ghosts in the machine.
Life from womb to here has left me wincing; Life since logging on is fancy-free, Far easier to spurn the cruel and mean. I’m someone else, and boy, am I convincing, As you’ve seen. ________________________
MPA rating: PG
In anime circles, a new film from Mamoru Hosoda is an event. From Summer Wars to Wolf Children to the Oscar-nominated Mirai, he’s proven to be one of the most skilled anime directors around, and Belle promised to be yet another win. A modern riff on Beauty and the Beast fusing music and social media, the film garnered a fourteen-minute standing ovation at Cannes, making me wonder if it was just a case of no one wanting to be the first to stop clapping. Belle is another strong film in Hosoda’s oeuvre, but, like Encanto, it’s also proof that a film can be good while also being deeply flawed.
In the near-future of Belle, a digital world called U has become the most popular metaverse for people across the globe to interact with avatars somehow extrapolated from their own biometrics, resulting in an array of bizarre appearances ranging from babies to superheroes to literal hands with a face on it, which no one seems to object to. Suzu is a self-conscious high school student still haunted by her mother’s death, but when she logs into U as the beautiful Bell (which is what Suzu means), she finds that the anonymity allows her to sing again and, much to her surprise, become a celebrity. As she deals with the flurry of differing opinions that come with fame, she grows curious about the aggressive avatar known as the Beast, whose unknown identity is hunted by U’s authorities.
Hosoda is no stranger to virtual worlds, having previously worked with the concept in Digimon and Summer Wars, so it’s no surprise that the world of U is dazzling, an eye-popping blend of 3D and 2D animation, thanks in part to backgrounds from Cartoon Saloon. It’s easily Hosoda’s most visually resplendent and imaginative film that still carries his calling cards (he must have a thing for flying whales). The bad thing about U is that so much of it is left unexplained. While OZ in Summer Wars had several clear real-world applications, the avatars in U are never shown doing much more than floating around and commenting, though there are concerts and fighting tournaments, I suppose. Plus, it’s never clear how the real-world users are interacting with the virtual world; at some points, it’s as if their avatars are mirroring their real body’s movements, but is it like Ready Player One-style mechanics? There’s mention of sharing the senses of their avatars, so how can they see both U and the real world when logged in? Questions like that just require a suspension of disbelief that divorces the virtual and real worlds for the sake of the story.
The virtual world is ostensibly the main fantastical draw of the film, but I honestly enjoyed the parts in the real world more. The high school romance drama is nothing unusual for the genre, but the relatable supporting characters are an endearing bunch, particularly during a laughably awkward love confession. It was also a nice subversion to reveal the usually unsympathetic popular girl as a genuinely caring friend. However, the real world is also where the story falters toward the end. The revelation of the Beast’s identity is a powerful moment that speaks to the trauma of hidden abuse, yet it’s a reality for which the film doesn’t really have an answer. One culminating sacrifice hits an emotional high, but Suzu’s efforts afterward are unrealistic and absent of any long-term solution.
Belle has a lot of impressive elements in service to a somewhat half-baked plot, and the Beauty and the Beast parallels are rather incidental to the main story. Its vision of social media feeding frenzies and the online experience are timely and well-executed, while Suzu’s journey to understand the meaning of selflessness is suitably moving as well. And though the songs sometimes feel shoehorned in, I must give props to their quality, including the English recordings for the dub, and I think that the climactic “A Million Miles Away” would have been a worthy nominee for a Best Song Oscar if the Academy would look around more. Belle may not match the likes of Wolf Children, but it lives up to Summer Wars and exceeds Mirai, in my opinion. The visual splendor on display largely overshadows the plot issues, just as long as you don’t think about it too much.
Who knows what mystery occurs Within the woods, what secret stirs Outside the realm of man’s mundane Within the cryptic and arcane Dimension far from mine and yours?
To know that it exists might be Enough to bring anxiety, To paint this aberrant unknown As one more threat to be o’erthrown, A cause for endless enmity.
And so it stays the stuff of tales, In deepest wood and virgin trails, A whisper easy to ignore, That men may not endure one more Concern to tip their tender scales. _____________________
MPA rating: PG
I had wanted to post this review for St. Patrick’s Day due to the Celtic roots of a film set in Ireland, but time got away from me. Still, I’m due to get back into writing mode since National Poetry Writing Month is right around the corner. I had been eagerly awaiting the next film from Tomm Moore and the Irish animation studio Cartoon Saloon, but I was disappointed that Apple TV+ got exclusive streaming rights to it. It wasn’t until I finally bit the bullet and subscribed to yet another streaming service (thanks, CODA and Finch, for changing my mind) that I was able to see Wolfwalkers. Thankfully, it was exactly what I wanted it to be, a warm and colorful flight of Irish fantasy that may well be my favorite entry from Cartoon Saloon.
Set in Kilkenny in 1650, Wolfwalkers draws on Celtic mythology, like The Secret of Kells and Song of the Sea before it, specifically the notion of forest-dwelling werewolf-like folk who become actual wolves while their human bodies are sleeping. Young Robyn Goodfellowe (Honor Kneafsey) is an English girl brought to Ireland by her father Bill (Sean Bean), a hunter commissioned by the dictatorial Lord Protector (Simon McBurney) to clear the nearby woods of all wolves. Not welcomed by the Irish children and reluctant to work as a maid, she desperately tries to help her father, eventually ending up alone in the forest. After a fateful encounter with a Wolfwalker named Mebh (Eva Whittaker), Robyn finds she’s become a Wolfwalker herself and must find a way to save her newfound friend from her own father.
Wolfwalkers has the same distinction I mentioned of The Mitchells vs. the Machines: so many elements of its plot have been seen and done many times before, yet it uses these well-worn tropes so well that it exceeds the sum of its parts. We have the concerned and controlling father figure of The Little Mermaid, the prejudiced nobleman villain of Pocahontas (who even resembles Ratcliffe), the conflict of a supposed enemy turning out to be friendly from How to Train Your Dragon, the look-through-their-eyes transformation of Brother Bear, and I could go on. While I personally love all of these movies too, those who don’t like recycled ideas could easily label Wolfwalkers derivative. Yet the way the story unfolds is so much better than the cut-and-paste formula it might have been. The conflict goes beyond human and wolf, extending to the drudgery of dirty city life compared with the freedom of nature’s communion, and it’s notable that Robyn’s father is kept sympathetic and shown to be similarly hemmed in by the weight of responsibility and expectations. (Some unfortunate religious justification from the villain makes it a church vs. magic hostility too, though there’s also a line connecting the Wolfwalkers to St. Patrick.)
One aspect that certainly helps the film stand out is Cartoon Saloon’s ever-gorgeous animation influenced by illuminated manuscripts, which uses its symmetrical style to full effect in contrasting the dark, angular town of Kilkenny with the lush, painterly backgrounds of the forest. It’s an intoxicating style of picture-book illustration come to fluid life, and it still warms my heart that one lone Western studio is keeping the spirit of 2D animation alive, no matter how much time and effort it takes. In addition, it seems inevitable that I would love a film with a montage set to an Aurora song, the fitting and enchanting “Running with the Wolves.”
While I also loved The Secret of Kells and Song of the Sea and admired The Breadwinner, Wolfwalkers feels like Cartoon Saloon’s most complete and satisfying film yet (with a 99% Rotten Tomatoes score to back it up), though I am still partial to Song of the Sea too. It well could have won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature in one of Pixar’s off years, but Soul proved too strong a contender. Even so, Wolfwalkers is an animated delight that feeds my inner fondness for all things Celtic and distinguishes itself from similar stories with exceptional artistry and a winning blend of friendship and myth.
I wear a weak smile With weights on each end. I faithfully labor And greet every neighbor To be a bulwark On which all can depend.
Yet what I have lost Haunts that which I’ve found. Like one stubborn ember, Your face I remember, A past that burned bright Upon life’s battleground.
They say what I know, That I have to move on. I still love the trace That remains of your face. I doubt it will ever Be totally gone. _________________________
MPA rating: Not Rated (should be PG-13 for some violent flashbacks and heavy emotional themes)
Although I love anime, I’m often not sure how to review films based on anime series. For example, Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Movie: Mugen Train was literally the highest grossing movie of 2020 worldwide, smashing records and becoming the first non-Hollywood film to top the global box office. Yet I don’t really know what to say about it. Because it’s a feature-length middle chapter for the Demon Slayer series, it’s hard to recommend it to those unfamiliar with the show, since a full appreciation of the film depends on some familiarity. It was exciting, eye-popping, a good continuation, and apparently a real tearjerker for some (not me), but its attachment to an ongoing TV series limits its appeal in my view. I feel the same for other anime films based on series, from the Steins;Gate sequel to the growing number of My Hero Academia features, which typically end up feeling decent but unnecessary.
Obviously, that’s not always the case. I’ve sung the praises of The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya, which built beautifully on its original show, and Cowboy Bebop: The Movie, which stands on its own just as well. I suppose it’s easier when a film comes after a show ends, rather than in the middle of its run. Anyway, it should indicate my high regard for Violet Evergarden: The Movie that I’m reviewing it at all, beyond making it List-Worthy.
For those unfamiliar with Violet Evergarden, it’s a show from Kyoto Animation based on a popular light novel series about a girl in a fictional semi-Victorian country where gas lamps exist alongside advanced prosthetic limbs. Utilized as a lethal child warrior during a horrific war, the girl is taken in by a Major Gilbert, who gives her the name Violet and hates using her on the battlefield, despite her effectiveness. In the midst of a major victory, both of them are severely injured, and the Major is lost and presumed dead. With the war over, Violet is sent to a friend of the Major’s who runs a post office, and she gradually eases into the more peaceful life of typing letters for others, a job called an Auto Memory Doll (basically a transcriptionist with a typewriter). While struggling to understand simple concepts like love and pining for the Major, she meets an array of customers who help her grow as a person.
The short 13-episode series itself is quite good, with strong characters and emotions, but its greatest strengths are the glorious, Oscar-caliber score and drop-dead gorgeous animation. It’s honestly some of the finest, most detailed animation out there, and almost any single frame could be hung on a wall as a work of art. I will say that the script can be weak at times, often ascribing great profundity to the letters Violet writes even when they’re more earnest than deep. But the film’s poignant themes grow more affecting with time, and the largely stand-alone tenth episode remains one of the most tear-jerking episodes of television imaginable. Even the thought of it makes me want to cry. The studio could have left the show alone or stopped after the spin-off film called Eternity and the Auto Memory Doll, which falls under that “decent but unnecessary” status that I mentioned before. But the studio decided to cap off the series with a finale film, despite delays from the infamous arson attack and COVID, and I’m glad they did because it’s everything I could have wanted in a conclusion (hello, 100% Rotten Tomatoes score).
It was a canny choice to frame the story as a retrospective investigation, with a young woman from decades in the future looking back on the tale of Violet Evergarden, and the woman’s connection to that moving tenth episode had me close to sobbing right from the start. The film soon jumps back to Violet’s time, after she has grown into the most popular Doll in the city, though her thoughts remain with her long-lost Major Gilbert. After accepting a job from a sick boy in the hospital who wants her help to write letters to his family once he is gone, Violet and her boss learn of evidence that Gilbert might be alive on a distant island, and they go in search of her beloved.
There were many ways that the film could have gone wrong. Would they pull a fake-out and say it wasn’t Gilbert? Would it be a tired amnesia scenario? But the way it plays out is both touching and makes sense for the characters, highlighting Gilbert’s guilt from the war and how much Violet has grown apart from him. The eventual climax is a massive tug to the heartstrings, and I felt like the film was effective in encapsulating the overarching story and its emotions, even for those who may not have watched the series. (Even so, I certainly recommend watching the show first for the full context and emotional punch.)
I’ve always thought that the concept of an Auto Memory Doll seemed odd and quaint, like something that would be unrealistic in the real world, though that view is likely shaped by the prevalence of modern literacy and easy communication methods. The film actually addresses that head-on, with the advent of the telephone threatening the entire Doll profession. One shot of a lamplighter gazing up at a newfangled electric streetlight perfectly captured the theme of technological progress. I suppose the job of writing letters for others could be compared to something like the Pony Express, short-lived but memorable, and while the story could have been antagonistic toward such progress, it manages to show the positive aspects of both the telephone and letter-writing in, of course, the most poignant way possible.
I can see how someone cynical could easily view Violet Evergarden with detachment and scoff at its overly melodramatic qualities. It can lay on the tragedy pretty thick at times and certainly falls under that category of anime that intentionally aim to bring the audience to tears, like Angel Beats, To Your Eternity, or anything from Mari Okada. But if you can truly connect with Violet’s journey to understand love, it’s well worth tears, and I like the fact that I’m not too jaded to be moved by it. I liked the series on its own, but Violet Evergarden: The Movie took the series’ strengths and elevated them with a near-perfect culmination of all that came before and left me with a precious lump in my throat. I feel sorry for those who don’t give anime a chance, because stories like this transcend the medium to be great films, period.
Best line: (Daisy, the woman learning about Violet) “If there’s something I can’t tell them in words, maybe I could tell them in a letter. I want to finally tell them my true feelings. We don’t know how long we have, so I need to tell them while I still have time.”
