24FPS @ LFF 2016: Animation Roundup

Apologies for not posting more written reviews while I was at LFF this year, I was having serious computer troubles.  Here, by way of apology, are short(er) reviews of three animated films I saw.

My Life as a Courgette
Dir: Claude Barras

For my money, the French writer/director Celine Sciamma is one of the most interesting talents to emerge in cinema in recent years. Her three directorial films: Water Lilies, Tomboy and Girlhood all number among the best of their respective years and I await her projects with great anticipation. While Sciamma didn't have any directorial work in the LFF this year, she wrote the screenplays for both the new Andre Techine film, Being 17 and for this, a delicate, nuanced, but optimistic children's film about a boy named Courgette who falls for the new girl at the orphanage he's sent to after his mother dies in an accident at home.

Director Claude Barras and his animators craft an interesting look for the film. The characters all have a certain look, but the designs are striking and individual, giving even the characters with the least screen time a distinctive look. They are set against backgrounds that are often a bit drab and have a homemade feel, like something out of a Michel Gondry animation. This is effective in making the characters stand out from their environment.

For a little while it seems that My Life as a Courgette might be a pretty miserable film. We get the expected beats when Courgette first arrives at the orphanage and is bullied by a bigger kid, but this dynamic soon shifts and a much brighter film emerges. This home is depicted as one where there is a genuine sense of community, and the film has a real warmth thanks to that. Little recurring jokes, like one child running to the door every time it opens, expecting her mother, amuse while also giving the film surprising emotional weight, but it's the way that Barras' images and Sciamma's screenplay combine to capture the little moments that define growing up that have stuck with me about this film. Courgette and Camille's relationship is touchingly well-observed, as are the growing bond between Courgette and the cop who initially takes him to the orphanage and the shifting dynamics of the group of kids. These things may be played out by plasticine models and in front of cardboard backdrops, but they ring true.

My Life As a Courgette should be suitable for kids from about 10 or 11, but I'd imagine that their parents will enjoy it just as much, it's sweet without being sickly, funny without compromising on some the darkness at the heart of the story, and eventually extremely touching.
★★★★★


Psychonauts, The Forgotten Children
Dir: Pedro Rivero / Alberto Vazquez

In a post-apocalyptic world, humans appear to have died out and animals are all that remains. Dinky longs to escape the island she lives on and her religious parents. For help she turns to her friends and to Birdboy, whose soul has been overtaken by a demon. To escape, they must make dangerous trek through the rubbish dumps where roving gangs of rats and mice live beyond the law.

Psychonauts is a determinedly offbeat film. From its visual style on down, it mixes tones, combining dark subject matter and imagery (sometimes sketchy, sometimes in bold red and black silhouettes) with offbeat humour and cute design on Dinky and her friends. The jokes leaven the darkness of the film just enough that Psychonauts, while properly scary at times, is probably suitable for older kids as well as for adults.

The film's biggest laughs often come in the margins, the little moments, such as when Dinky's brother tells his parents what he wants to be when he grows up, or when the inflatable duck Dinky and her friends get to try to escape the island on tells his backstory. As much fun as these moments are though, there is something chilling at the core of Psychonauts; a scorched earth world that feels complete in its design. The opening moments, with a mouse and his son scavenging for rubbish and invoking the rules of their community, set this up brilliantly, as well as setting up a surprisingly human and moving relationship between the characters. This approach will carry through the film effectively, especially in Dinky's love for Birdboy.

The animation is brilliant, the mix of styles well executed and fitting for the film's mix of tones, and it's often surprising what level of character Rivero and Vazquez manage to get of their designs. This too is especially evident with Birdboy, who is essentially just a few shapes in black and white, but is rich in character despite being mute. Birdboy's eyes; huge empty black holes signifying the loss of his soul, are particularly haunting, and end up communicating a lot.  The film is at its best when Birdboy, fully possessed by a demon, attacks the Psychonauts village. This is a sequence straight out of a monster movie, and a brutal one at that, with images of burning characters that call to mind the atomic bomb sequence in Terminator 2.

Overall, Psychonauts, the Forgotten Children is a great surprise; a well balanced tonal juggling act that will horrify and amuse in almost equal measure. I hope it finds a UK release.
★★★★

Your Name

Dir: Makoto Shinkai

I've said it before, but it bears repeating, when we're talking about the most visually stunning films being made today, Makoto Shinkai needs to be in the conversation. His latest, Your Name, is the first anime to play in the (relatively new) London Film Festival competition section, and it is just as lush and gorgeous as we have come to expect.

Your Name will also feel somewhat familiar to Shinkai fans in its story (a tale of two young people falling for each other, though separated, then trying to find, and in this case remember, each other). While he is a visual master, Shinkai's flaws often come from his writing and Your Name doesn't have his strongest screenplay. Even for him, the boy sort of meets girl story that develops as Taki and Mitsuha begin to wake in each other's bodies is a rather sentimental and sometimes cloying one. That said, Shinkai does have a knack for this material, and while he sometimes overeggs the pudding, Your Name is also full of emotional moments that hit me just as deeply as the visuals did.

Visually, this is a film of dazzling beauty. The character designs are expressive, but as ever it's the world Shinkai grounds them in which is so stunning. From the most mundane things like images of trains passing, to the grandest in scale, such as the images of the comet that figures centrally in the film's story, everything is rendered with the same loving detail, everything seems lit from within. It's also important that the environments feel credible. There's a great sense of place and of the contrast between Taki's home in the fast-paced modernity of Tokyo and Mitsuha's life in a little village where tradition persists. If the film weren't grounded like this, then its flights of sci-fi fancy would strain credulity even more than they do. 

The character work here is strong. As the voices of Taki and Mitsuha, Ryûnosuke Kamiki and Mone Kamishiraishi shift their performances as the characters become more used to 'being' each other several times a week. There are overblown moments in each of their performances, but they are allowed to be smaller and more subtle as the film goes on and become more affecting as this happens. The scenes as the comet finally comes into play, particularly one set at twilight, are delicately played, beautifully animated and ultimately very moving.

Like much anime, I found Your Name to be at its weakest when it is at its broadest. While there are some fun running jokes, the early body swapping sequences can be loud, lacking nuance and sometimes a little wearing, but even in those scenes, the beauty of the film and the fluency of its animation are engaging all by themselves. 

This is a hit and miss film, it can even be a little grating at times. When it works though, when Shinkai pulls images, character and story together in a moment as simple and moving as a shot late in the film of Mitsuha opening her hand and seeing writing on it, it's as magical as the director's best work.
★★★

24FPS @ LFF: The Boy and the Beast

Dir: Mamoru Hosoda

Mamoru Hosoda is one of the most interesting auteurs currently working, not just in anime but in movies as a whole, so it is one of the biggest disappointments of this year's LFF to report that his latest is by far his weakest solo directorial effort. 

9-year-old runaway Ren (voiced as a child by Aoi Miyazaki) encounters Kumatetsu (Koji Yashuko), a bear-like beast who has crossed briefly from his world of Juntegai into the human world, looking for an apprentice. Ren follows Kumatetsu and becomes his apprentice in Juntegai, the two eventually teaching each other and training for the day that Kumatetsu must battle another best to become ruler of Juntegai. Once he is 17, Ren (now voiced by Tokyo Tribe's Shota Somentani) begins taking trips back to the human world, finding himself torn between a girl there, his real father and Kumatetsu, the father that raised him.

Hosoda fans reading that summary will immediately recognise many of the director's trademarks. His overarching tactic of taking stories about everyday human emotion and conflicts and wrapping them in a huge sci-fi or fantasy concept is intact. Like his last film, 2012's dazzling Wolf Children, The Boy and the Beast is largely about parenthood. In this case, the focus is on how Ren and his brittle adoptive father essentially end up raising each other; Ren teaching Kumatetsu control and Kumatetsu showing Ren that someone will always be there for him. This and other things in the film are moving lessons, but a lot of it feels like Hosoda is raking over old ground that he has mined much more profitably in the past.

The world of Juntegai is beautifully imagined and rich in detail, every beast has an individual design and Hosoda's character design and animation is as precise and characterful as ever. What is missing from this side of the film, however, is much sense of rising stakes. The battle for control of Juntegai never seems terribly important, largely because both the outcome and the mechanism by which we will arrive at it are obvious from the off. Hosoda signposts other plot developments far too clearly as well, in a film that, for a long time, seems to lack an ultimate bad guy, it's clear almost from the first appearance of the character who that bad guy will end up being, and clear from the design what his motives will be. Foreshadowing is one thing, but here Hosoda seems to do it with flashing neon signs pointing out the plot and character development. 

There are some wonderful moments in the film. The training sequences, as Ren begins to copy Kumatetsu's movements but tries not to let Kumatetsu see him, bring out the best in Hosoda.  The shot design here is often as funny as it is evocative, telling both the story and the emotion in a series of dialogue-free frames. Even better is the prologue, which explains the world of Juntegai and renders all of its characters as flames. It's an extraordinary looking scene that promises much for the film to come. The Boy and the Beast is never less than visually engaging. The final sequences, as Juntegai threatens the human world, are also especially impressive, with dark visuals and a sense of menace that sets them apart from the rest of the film, which is often bright and cartoony. Hosoda's storytelling may be malfunctioning this time out, but his visual sense seems as keen as ever.

Another thing that seems to have deserted Hosoda this time is his pacing, his films often nudge the two-hour mark, but The Boy and the Beast is strange in that it feels both too short and too long. The pace slackens quite often in the Juntegai sequences, which can feel repetitive and as if they are anxious to drum exposition that has already been established into you several times over, you could say that this is for the kids in the audience, but this will likely be a 12A when released, and there is little to establish that will challenge any intelligent 9 year old. On the other hand, several sequences are rushed through with almost unseemly haste, chief among these is a sequence in which Ren and Kumatetsu go to visit the leaders of the other beast kingdoms. This sequence boils down to a few very brief jokes and an obvious, one line, lesson, but it could easily have formed the backbone of an effective quest narrative.

I don't know quite what to make of The Boy and the Beast, it's clearly a Hosoda film, it pulses with his favourite themes and messages and often delivers them effectively, but it never resonates the way that Wolf Children, Summer Wars and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time do. Ultimately this is hit and miss fare but must count as a big swing and a miss from a director who has, to date, delivered 3 modern anime classics.
★★★

24FPS @ LFF 2014: The Satellite Girl and Milk Cow

Dir: Chang Hyung-yun

One of the problems with being a film critic is that, quite often, it can feel like we've seen it all.  And here we go again... just one more story about a broken down satellite that turns into a girl when it hears a young man singing.  Falling to Earth, she finds the young man, who, broken hearted, has been turned in to a cow.  Together, along with a wizard who has been turned into a magical roll of embossed toilet paper, they must evade a sentient monster incinerator and a man with a magical plunger who wants to steal the cow's liver.  

You know.  That old story.

The Satellite Girl and Milk Cow is a film as odd as its title, and that's where it draws a lot of its fun from.  You could call it a fish out of water comedy, with Il-ho (the satellite) taking human form and having to learn how to deal both with interacting on Earth and with the complicated reality of human emotion, both hers and Kyung-chun's (the cow).  There are plenty of laughs to be had in this side of the film and while many of them (Il-ho breaking down when she eats some of Kyung-chun's grass, for instance) are designed to appeal to young kids, they're also likely to make parents laugh.  Merlin, the wizard turned into a luxuriously soft roll of embossed toilet paper, is an especially reliable source of laughs.  The film seldom uses him for toilet humour, instead getting laughs by juxtaposing what he looks like with his very serious and forceful personality.

The film also has a poignancy about it.  This isn't always its strongest suit, but to the film's credit there is a sincerity to the way it wears its emotion on its sleeve, and it can be forgiven for feeling a little rushed and simplistic given that it is pitching at 8 year olds.  That said, you would have to be a hard person indeed for the shifting relationship between Il-ho and Kyung-chun not to tug your heartstrings even a little bit.

The animation here is good, somewhat Miyazaki inflected, but not quite up to those technical standards, nor can it quite match the deft mix of brilliant animation and emotion in the films of Makoto Shinkai or Mamoru Hosoda.  However, the character design is engaging and appealing, and director Chang Hyung-yun finds many funny and moving images throughout the film, particularly as it comes to a crescendo in the last ten minutes.

The Satellite Girl and Milk Cow is ultimately a bit lightweight for an adult audience, it suffers, a couple of times, from going for a musical montage over a more complex emotional payoff.  It should delight its target audience though, and if you do take your kids to see it you will be rewarded with a fun, silly, strange film that, at the very least, will tell you a story you haven't heard before.

★★★

Blu Ray Review: Ninja Scroll [18]

Dir: Yoshiaki Kawajiri

The Film

Though I've now seen a decent amount, and even have a few favourite directors within the form, anime is still a style of filmmaking that I feel a bit under-educated in.  Ninja Scroll is one of the anime films I remember seeing around in shops (but not actually seeing) when I was growing up, along with other now well established classics of the form like Akira and Ghost in the Shell.  Like other Asian films released here at that time, Ninja Scroll exerted something of a fascination for me that was less to do with the film itself than the dynamic and lurid cover art.

The film itself tells a story that is both simple and convoluted.  Essentially, an itinerant ninja named Kibagami Jubei (voice of Koichi Yamadera) finds himself swept up in a battle against eight demonic ninjas after he interrupts one of their number while he is raping a female ninja named Kagero (Emi Shinohara).  Ultimately, bribed by the mysterious Dakuan (Takeshi Aono), Jubei and Kagero team up to take on the leader of the eight demonic ninjas; Jubei's old enemy Gemma (Daisuke Gori).

The story is ultimately tangential to the main point of the film, which is really - certainly from a Western perspective where most audiences, myself included, won't know much about the series of ninja novels or the Japanese folk hero to which the film is apparently paying tribute - the frequently spectacular animated violence.  The action sequences come thick and fast, and probably account for about half of the film's pacy 94 minutes.  There's a decent variety of action too, with the different powers of each of the eight demons presenting different challenges to Jubei and Kagero, and a few leaning harder on horror than action.

Perhaps the best sustained sequence in the film is the one involving the fight against the first demon; the rock skinned Tessai, who slaughters Kagero's fellow ninjas in an extravagantly bloody and brilliantly dynamic action scene, before attempting to rape Kagero in a moment that is skin-crawlingly unpleasant.  Few of the other monsters get as much screen time as Tessai, and so their deaths don't feel quite as impactful, but again, that's not really the point. 

The animation style is interesting.  The character design is less cartoony than some anime, giving the film a slightly grittier feel that matches its sometimes brutal violence, but beyond that there's a slightly odd stylistic mix.  Much of the animation is slick and fluid, the action punchy and violent, but there are also times when the action moves in layers, like viewmaster pictures sliding over each other.  It's a different kind of motion, and it certainly gives a sense of pace to some of the scenes it's used in, but sometimes it feels like a shortcut to me; a way to finish sequences without quite fully animating them, it does give the film a distinctive, but I'm not the biggest fan of the technique.

All of the best elements of the film are visual; the use of colour - blue in the rape scene, red in a key fight scene - is distinctive and lends an individual visual identity to the film and the action sequences are relentlessly entertaining, but sometimes what surrounds them is less impressive, even on occasion coming close to being offensive.  The way the film depicts Kagero is almost schizophrenic; she's clearly a strong woman, but in one scene she's raped and there's a deeply uncomfortable moment in which she offers herself to Jubei.  It's not the proudly hateful stuff of some hentai, but it does undermine the character by making her than little more a sexual object in a couple of her most important scenes.  It doesn't entirely undermine the film though, because much of the rest of the time Kaegro is the strongest and most interesting character in the film; more complex than the rather inscrutable Jubei, and she is allowed to be seen as an asset as a fighter.

The script clunks whether you're listening to the dub or reading the subtitles, but the film moves at a fast pace, and never slows down long enough to be boring.  It might be nice to have developed Jubei and Kaegro's relationship a little more fully, as it would give the final sequences more than just visceral punch, but this film is what it is, and as a series of stylised animated punch ups, some suspect sexual politics aside, it does the blood soaked job more than acceptably.  I'm not sure, 20 years on, it's quite the classic that some of its near contemporaries stand as, but it's good fun.

The Picture and Sound

The HD picture (presented uncut in 4:3, which is the correct ratio) is probably as good as Ninja Scroll has ever looked, and likely as good as it will ever look.  The detail is good, and the colours seem true to how it was intended to look, but it doesn't quite have that incredible 'pop' that much animation (and especially anime) usually has on Blu Ray - among anime of a similar vintage I thought Whisper of the Heart looked better in HD - but this may also be partly down to the film's overwhelming visual darkness, which is well represented with solid black levels.

There are two soundtrack choices here; a Japanese track and the English dub.  Animation is the only form I'd ever consider watching a dub for, because the voices are somewhat removed from the characters by the technique anyway, but the Japanese track was my first choice because it's the original.  The subtitles are functional, easy to read, not too intrusive, and pretty close to the English dub dialogue.  All in all it probably doesn't much matter which soundtrack you choose, both sound good, the performances are at about the same pitch in both, and the subtitles don't improve the dialogue at all. 

The Extras

The steelbook edition, which contains both Blu Ray and DVD copies of the film, also comes with a 20 page booklet, unfortunately, this was not supplied for review.  

On disc extras are slim but satisfying.  The original trailer and TV spot are present (in slightly faded SD, which makes the transfer of the film look more impressive), and there is a commentary with director Yoshiaki Kawajiri, character designer Yutaka Minowa and moderator Hiroyuki Ohnuma.  It would have been a real bonus if the subtitles had, at least to begin with, identified who was speaking at any given time, because the speakers don't, and their voice sound quite similar to an ear untrained in Japanese.  That said it's an interesting track, there's discussion of cel animation, of the film's visuals and some jokey acknowledgement of some of its more unnecessary (their word) nastier content.  For fans of the film this will be a real treat. 

Verdict

On the whole this is a strong release of an entertaining movie, if not one that I'm as big a fan of as some anime lovers seem to be.  Ninja Scroll is still a fun watch, and interesting because of its place in helping introduce anime to more Western audiences, if you like anime it's a key text, but it's perhaps not where I'd advise people to start.

★★★

24FPS @ LFF 2012: Wolf Children

Dir: Mamoru Hosoda

Over the course of his last two films (following his debut as one of the directors of the Digimon Movie) Mamoru Hosoda has established a place for himself as one of the true auteurs working in anime, and for my money in cinema as a whole. Wolf Children shares few specifics with either The Girl Who Leapt Through Time or Summer Wars, but the look and the feel of the film is unmistakably Hosoda.

The film is narrated by Yuki, who tells us the story of how her Mother, Hana, met her Father, who was a wolfman (distinct from a werewolf, the film tells us that the full moon changes and the attacks on humans are simply myth) at university, how they fell in love and had two children; Yuki and her younger brother Ame, and how after her husband died Hana moved her half wolf kids to the mountains so she could raise them freely.

Where this film shares DNA with Hosoda's previous work is in the way it freely mixes the magical and the mundane, and uses them to tell a real feeling and emotional story. Wolf Children may be the title, but the film is really about Hana and her efforts to be the best parent she can to these unusual children. Over 110 minutes, Hosoda's film moves slowly, but hypnotically, through about 14 years as Hana and her children grow. The fact that Yuki and Ame can both turn into wolves at will (and sometimes by accident, when she's very small Yuki changes when excited, and when she's older, once, when she's angry) is really just a metaphor for childhood issues, just as the different ways that each of them deals with the choice between their wolf side and their human side are expressions of how we all decide who we are as we grow up. Hosoda's take on these universal themes, rather than the fantastical elements of the story, are what really make the film.

The three central characters all feel very real. Yuki, the excitable little girl, who grows up and changes much more than a lot of live action characters do in movies, is our point of identification, and the animation and the voice acting (I can't be specific about who plays which role, because IMDB isn't) combine to make a detailed and charming character as Yuki tries to repress her wolf side and be more human, so she can fit in at school, perhaps especially around the new boy. By contrast we see Ame come out of his shell as he grows up, and while Hosoda highlights the differences between the two (once in a pretty visceral fight), he never beats you over the head with his metaphor.

Hana's story is, however, the centre of the film, and it's a beautifully told, acted and animated one. In a lot of ways Wolf Children reminds me of Francois Ozon's Ricky, largely because both films are attempts to tell an emotionally realistic story about a woman and her attempts to raise an unusual child (in the case of Ricky a baby with wings). If there's a major criticism of Wolf Children it is perhaps that Hana is too idealised, from the wide-eyed college girl who meets a wolfman through to the totally dedicated parent, learning to let go of her children, she's so good and so endearing that it could come off as one-dimensional. I never felt that. I was invested in Hana from the beginning, and I found myself sympathising with her struggles (her first attempt to learn to grow her own food, for example), and cheering her triumphs. By the end of the film; an excellent set piece which brings all three storylines to a head, and cross cuts quiet moments between Yuki and her school friend effectively with a frantic, storm lashed, Hana, I was completely emotionally engaged, and I'm not ashamed to say I cried a little.

Hosoda's films are always beautiful, and Wolf Children is no exception. The character design is especially great, particularly in the way that the children still feel like they are themselves when they are in their wolf forms, and the way all three main characters age across the film, especially subtly done in Hana's case. The animation is dynamic and high quality, packed with detail and nuance; this never feels like something made for small screens (though, sadly, that is how I had to see it).

This is a difficult film to write about, because for most of its running time it quietly documents the day to day life of this family. It doesn't have any large scale action, there's no villain, no outside conflict, but Hosoda makes you care about these characters, and makes you see that this isn't a film about wolves; it's about people. Now four films in, Mamoru Hosoda has three great movies under his belt. I urge you to see this one, it's likely to be one of the stranger and more welcome treats of the festival.
★★★★★

Blu-Ray Review: The Girl Who Leapt Through Time [12]

Dir: Mamoru Hosoda

In the (relatively limited) anime I have seen I have become used to its makers taking me to fantastical worlds, showing me things that would be near impossible to replicate in live action. On hearing the title 'The Girl Who Leapt Through Time' you might expect Mamoru Hosoda's first self penned film (he worked on the Digimon movie before this) to fit the sci-fi mould that a great deal of anime seems to fall into, and to a degree it does, but only in concept.

The film is about a high school girl named Makoto, she's a pretty typical 17 year old; a little awkward, in love with one of her male friends, but unwilling to admit it, and wanting more than anything just to have fun. One day, completely by accident, Makoto discovers that she has the ability to leap back in time. To begin with she uses this power for frivolous things, but as time goes on she begins to see that her small changes are having big, and often very negative, effects.

As with Hosoda's subsequent Summer Wars, there are a lot of things going on in The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, and it mixes tones very freely. The first half of the film is largely comedic, as Makoto uses her abilities to extend her time at karaoke, avoid making a fool of herself at school, and eat the pudding that her little sister had previously stolen from her. These sequences also include a big helping of slapstick, as Makoto crashes into scenes repeatedly after her time leaps. As the film continues it becomes more dramatic, as Makoto's seemingly insignificant changes to the timeline begin to have serious effects on the people around her (few more so than her friend Chiaki, who is clearly in love with her). Without it feeling heavy-handed or arbitrary, Hosoda introduces both real peril and real emotion into the film's last half hour.

Acting often goes unremarked on when it comes to animated films - something that continues to baffle me - but the performances here are excellent. Riisa Naka makes Makoto an absolutely believable character; fun-loving and carefree at first glance, but filled with all the turbulent emotions and doubts that come with being a teenager. It's a bubbly and engaging piece of acting, one that makes the central pull of the story - the suggested unrequited triangle between Makoto and her two male friends Chiaki and Kosuke - feel genuine. The other vocal performances are also strong, with particularly nice work from Yuki Sekido as Makoto's aunt, who was able to time leap in her own youth.

The look of the film is quite plain for the most part (bar a few brief segments in which Makoto travels through time), but the relatively simple, unexaggerated, character design and realistic backgrounds serve the film well, putting it squarely in the real world rather than emphasising the film's sci-fi elements, which, for me, only served to allow the emotion to come through stronger and more honestly. The animation may not always be hugely complex, but it is a joy to watch. The time leap sequences are especially strong, capturing the exuberance of Makoto and her joy at this ability, in this they become not just transitions but key character moments, to say nothing of the fact that they almost always provide the film with a laugh. There are also some extremely beautiful sequences in the film, none more so than when, with Makoto desperate to save her friend from danger, time stops abruptly. Here the film takes on a painterly beauty as the camera observes the small details of this frozen world. Overall, Mamoru Hosoda gives this film a strong look, but one that is unshowy, and draws you into the drama because of that.

While, obviously, I won't disclose details I will say that, having become so invested in the film and particularly in Makoto, I was anxious that Hosoda find a satisfying ending. He does, without becoming overly mushy the film comes to a genuinely moving close (I'm not ashamed to say I teared up a little), and resists the temptation to give us an ending that makes everything okay again.

I loved Hosoda's Summer Wars so my hopes were high for this film, but still, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time exceeded my expectations. It comes highly recommended.
★★★★★