Anime Revisited

Am I Still . . . Weathering With You?

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Hi there, it’s been a while.

There’s a lot I want to say to you, so I’ll start where I always once used to in my reviews: some background context.

I’ve been time traveling.

!!

(Kidding ~~)

But I dusted off the keyboard and propped open the cafe’s awnings—only to realize that my last post was almost a year ago?? Yeah, it sure does feel like time travel. And as the case is with most travelers, I’ve been irresponsible with time.

Anyway, hello from the future!

My life is very different now, you know?

At some point, I apparently came in and edited my blog’s sidebar bio so that it no longer read that I was a “teenager.” Although, when I think about it, I wasn’t a teenager when I last talked to you on here, either. Regardless, since 2021, I’ve not only completed my undergraduate degree but also a 2-year master’s program AND started my first “adult job” this past fall.

I’ve grown up ahead of the blog, I guess.

With every new year that rolls in (By the way, I hope yours has been kind so far.) I think about this place. Really, I do. This online safe space where I used to greet readers and see them out each hour of the day. It truly is our corner of the internet.

We sure were busy back then, weren’t we? Hah!

All this talk about growing up brings me to what I really wanted to ask you.

//

Am I still . . . weathering with you?

//

Yesterday, I finished reading YenPress’s release of Makoto Shinkai’s Weathering With You novel. It’s a fantastic little book (and it’s actually little, only 180 pages). As I slipped the dust jacket back around the green hardback and archived it on my shelves, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I love Shinkai’s work. Especially Weathering With You.

Last spring, I was lucky enough that my hometown theater had showings for Suzume, and that encounter, too, had me tumbling down memory lane. Discussions over many of Shinkai’s works have been “served up” here at the cafe over the years. Why I didn’t write about Suzume DESPITE it being my new favorite of his? . . . I had a lot on my mind at the time.

But back to Weathering With You, ah, my heart! It’s hard to believe that the film (and the book) will be celebrating 5 years this summer. As I’m revisiting it here, I’m going to spoil the end of the story, so go watch/read it if you haven’t!

Reading the novelization, I couldn’t help but re-realize how rough young people have it these days.

!!!

      

Seriously! If you make it to the end and can only despise Hodaka for effectively drowning Tokyo for love, then you’ve missed the entire point of the story.

How did Hodaka, a child, end up so desperate and starved for connection in the first place? Who put him in a position where all he felt he could do was run further and further away from the responsibility that comes with growing up?

We did. The adults in his life did. And we continue to fail adolescents just like him when we pressure them LIKE ADULTS and then treat their feelings as if they were TODDLERS throwing just another tantrum.

This seems unrelated, but in my recent rewatch of Fire Force (still a banger btw), Captain Obi proudly says that being a grown-up means “caring more broadly and deeply.” From our first meeting with Hodaka, we are already dealing with someone who feels tried and exiled from his hometown. Island life is suffocating, yet at the same time, he is neglected by those few with any real stock in him. With ambition, he leaves. And when he finds the adults in Tokyo just as unwilling, neglecting, and even downright unkind, he’s willing to abandon that world, too.

Caring more broadly and deeply. Ah. Perhaps we wouldn’t have found Hodaka’s entire world cradled in the care of Hina’s tiny, tired hands if the adults back home cared for him an ounce more than they had. He’s genuinely a good kid, too! Traumatized and hungry, all Hodaka wants is a job that can sustain him a little longer while he sorts life out. Thinking about it, it’s sad how it all went down. Thankfully, in the novel, one of Hodaka’s Tokyo “caretakers” and friends is able to learn about the hope that can come with adulthood before some of the others do:

Kid, I’m gonna grow up just a little earlier than you. I’ll become a role model to you and Hina whether you want it or not. I’ll be the kind of adult who makes you want to grow up faster so you can be the same. I’ll be nothing like Kei—I’ll be a fantastic, amazing, super adult like no one’s ever seen.

Natsumi Suga

Tokyo remains plunged underwater in the epilogue, and as gut-punching as the advent is, I closed the book satisfied that Hodaka—that Shinkai—was able to wake [the viewing/reading] society up to the suffering of its young. The endless rain is not only a karmic effect of neglecting an ages old superstition but also a reflection of the way we’ve continuously sacrificed the innocent and the good for our own benefit. Maybe the storms currently ravaging our world are starting to spark the same eye-opening effect that Hodaka and Hina’s rain has on theirs.

       

I didn’t intend on writing a current issues post, so let me circle back. Tenki no Ko, the Japanese title, translates more accurately as “Child of Weather” in English. Its localized title, however, is also lovely. “Weathering” sounds as if Hodaka and Hina are simply going around making the weather change, which is exactly what they do.

But also, “weathering” is the process that naturally wears down rocks and surfaces, leading to erosion. Finally, to “weather,” as a verb, means to come safely through something (like a storm). When Hodoka and Hina go weathering, I like to think that they are quite literally enduring life the way they’ve only recently discovered how:

By surviving the storm together.

When I asked towards the beginning of this post whether I was still weathering with you (cause that’s not confusing at all!), I was wondering if WE have been able to endure this long rainy season apart from one another—a blogger to his fellow blogger buddies and dearest readers—sincerely confused, anxious, and uncertain about whether we’ve weathered this distance ok.

Have we? Do you remember me?

Do you remember what we used to do here?

Because honestly, I couldn’t forget about you.

Thank you for having me back. For keeping the cafe warm.

I’m Takuto.

It’s very nice to meet you again.

Celebrating the End of an Era: Millennium Actress Revisited

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Amidst birthdays, passings, and celebrations of life, join me in honoring one of the most brilliant auteurs to ever grace cinema, Satoshi Kon.

It’s been too long since I last revisited one of my favorite anime. I apologize. I meant to do one of these reflections with Code Geass following my rewatch, and perhaps I still will someday *hopefully* soon.

In the meantime, I had recently celebrated my birthday with my family last weekend. (My real birthday is actually today, so happy birthday to me I guess!) We chowed down on way too much Chinese food, played way too much BTS UNO, and double-downed on way too much cake for our own good. It was an incredible 22nd birthday, certainly much better than my lonely 21st.

But what I hadn’t realized was that, amidst a celebration of my life, anime Twitter was also celebrating another: the life of famed director Satoshi Kon.

Kon died too soon. Pancreatic cancer. He was 46, and would be 56 if he were alive today. That’s right, August 24th was the 10th anniversary of Kon’s passing.

And I—not knowing any of this—really did unintentionally rewatch Kon’s Millennium Actress on the day before this anniversary as a way to end my own birthday celebration.

In a single weekend, I celebrated the life of two people that mean quite a lot to me: myself, and director Satoshi Kon.

I put that “director” in there to establish distance between us; Satoshi Kon director Satoshi Kon led an accomplished career in the anime industry, leaving behind several legendary films that would go on to be studied in film classes around the world for years to come. He was a visionary auteur, one that would shape my own life with works like Paprika (which I’ve actually written academic papers over), Perfect Blue (which still scares the shit out of me), Tokyo Godfathers (which I still need to watch the dub of), and Millennium Actress (which I still need to rewatch).

Oh wait, I guess I can cross that last one off the list.

It’s still kind of weird to me, though. I mean, I’d never watched a single Kon film until just a year or two ago, and now I can’t imagine my MAL watch list without him. My buddy Scott really put it best when he tweeted:

A decade ago, I didn’t even know who he was. Now I know we are missing one of the greatest minds who ever lived.

Scott (Mechanical Anime Reviews)

Damn, dude. I think I really almost cried when I first read that. Thank you for sharing these sentiments.

Now that I’ve talked for over 400 words about director Satoshi Kon and how splendid my birthday weekend was, I can finally get into the meat of this post: my latest thoughts on Millennium Actress, which come exactly five months after I initially reviewed it back in March.

And I hate to have kept you in suspense this whole time, but honestly— EVERYTHING I said in that post still holds true with how I feel about it now, on the night of writing this, a day before my actual birthday.

No single shot of that film feels lazy, out of place, or lacking in value; Millennium Actress is a masterpiece of a movie, which, ironically, is about the art of film itself.

Seamlessly weaving through a thousand years of Japanese history in cinematic form, the film—unlike any of his others—honors the passage of time in a way that is truly extraordinary and awe-inspiring. In an effort that’s full of character and heart, Genya Tachibana wishes to recognize the long and accomplished life of his idol, Chiyoko Fujiwara, by placing the sweetheart of Shouwa Era cinema back in the spotlight one last time.

This act can only come thanks to the countless scores of hours that Chiyoko put into mastering her craft, but equally so the admirable number of hours that Genya spent rewatching her films over the years. A simple yet dedicated man like Genya manages to honor their time by catching Chiyoko Fujiwara on camera before the curtain on her life falls for the final time, and the result is an engaging, unforgettable ride through the life of a historic Japanese artist—and the history of Japan itself.

As we navigate through our own daily troubles and trivialities, films like Millennium Actress continue to age like a fine bottle of wine. (No, I don’t drink, but I really like the expression and thought it fit well here.) In other words, for every day that passes, Kon’s legacy only expands, drawing in new viewers, fans, and inspired artists like moths to a flame. (That’s another expression I really like using.)

Truly, the passage of time—something so inherent, basic, and unconsciously experienced—is a remarkable advent. I would try and persuade you to note it down on your calendar somewhere, but I suppose the existence of the calendar itself is proof of my point: time is strangely unforgiving, yet also tends to honor artists. You could almost call the Clock any artist’s biggest fan, but that would only make Genya jealous, wouldn’t it?

Yesterday, I was 21. Today, I’m 22. I’ll probably get a couple of congratulations from my few closest family and friends (which includes you, of course), but likely no more than that. The truth of the matter is, at this point in time, I’m only worth celebrating if only for the fact that I go to school, teach kids how to play the cello, make some people laugh, and write on the internet. (And I’m perfectly content with that!!)

But I absolutely encourage YOU to celebrate the life and death of your favorite artists as often as you can. Go rewatch your favorite films of theirs, reflect on their best works, and share them with as many others as you possibly can. Promote art, and always promote the artist with it—the only way they live on is if we continue to celebrate their works.

Maybe my passion for Kon’s films is why I decided that instead of spending another birthday evening further inflating my ego, I went ahead and showed my family Millennium Actress for the first time.

And I sincerely hope that they—and everyone else who decides to give it a (re)watch—will fall in love with a film that truly celebrates the shining end of an era—and the brilliant beginning of the next, whatever it may bring.

With feelings of gratitude for all that is good in this world, I put down my pen. Well, I’ll be leaving now.

Satoshi Kon

These kinds of posts really are my favorite to write, I ought to do it more often. Anyone else feeling kinda emotional? Just me? Well, that’s ok too. I’ll never be done with talking about this film, but I think for now this will do. In Kon’s own words, allow me to put my pen down here and offer one last tidbit before parting with Chiyoko Fujiwara’s story . . .

In her final hours, Chiyoko Fujiwara left behind a treasure trove of insight to her incredible life as an actress. In his passing, Satoshi Kon left behind a contagious love for cinema that still burns brightly in the hearts of film lovers. In my lifetime, what can I leave behind and impart with all those who come across my name?

Maybe I’ll use 22 to figure out the answer to that question.

Thank you so much for reading. ‘Till text time!

– Takuto