
a review by AnimeDweeb

a review by AnimeDweeb
A terrible explosion at a steel factory has just shattered the night sky into a million pieces. Everything was about to change. And then, nothing would change ever again. After that night, time began to behave differently, trapping the survivors of the explosion in a strange stasis. These inhabitants of the seaside town of Mifuse are still allowed to go about their day, although the day never changes. With no escape or contact with the outside world, a never-ending winter now mysteriously hangs over Mifuse. Maboroshi introduces us to a town that cannot move on from the fallout, a people perpetually trapped in time and remembrance — an existential crisis after the explosion. The radio plays the same live broadcast of the programme heard on that fateful night. A pregnant woman roams around the town with an empty stroller, as she carries a child that cannot be born. The kids at Middle School cannot age, as they lie trapped in a nightmarish Neverland, never to see adulthood. While the town of Mifuse is forever frozen in winter, the passage of time is still deeply felt throughout the town’s inhabitants. So many days have gone by, and yet, none at all. Rather than spend its runtime dealing with the chaos that emerges in the wake of disaster, Maboroshi finds its horror in a long-term aftermath, trapping its characters in an existence with no meaning. That hopelessness weighs heavy on Masamune Kikuiri; a boy with talent, ambitions and dreams unfulfilled. So long as the snow continues to fall from a cracked sky, he will remain Forever Fourteen.
Reminiscent of the movies Makoto Shinkai has made over the past decade, Maboroshi invokes the supernatural and alludes to real-life tragedy. In order to understand what makes the Maboroshi so haunting, we first should compare this imagery to its origin. The damaged steel factory looms large over Mifuse, a fictional seaside town that takes after its real counterpart, Fukushima, which was the site of a tragic disaster that took place on March 11, 2011. The aftermath of the Fukushima Daiichi Power Plant explosion has left monumental damage in its wake. It will take several years for the soil and sea to be fully cleansed from its uninhabitable radiation; meanwhile, the healing process for the Japanese people may take even more time. But after confronting what’s likely the worst experiences of their lives, it’s my hope that the survivors of March 11 have since picked themselves up and moved towards the future. In contrast, no such future exists in the frozen temporal hellscape of Mifuse. Maboroshi ‘s director and screenwriter Mari Okada takes this backdrop and amplifies a feeling of despair through the use of supernatural elements, ensuring that the townspeople are literally unable to move on with their lives. Maboroshi holds the human spirit hostage at its lowest point, and asks: “What am I living for?” This question will go on to define the rest of the film, as our characters come across crushing revelations.
In Maboroshi , Okada subtly crafts a thought experiment founded on nihilism, with the people of Mifuse having their lives stripped of almost all meaning. The film makes the great decision of exploring these existential conditions through the eyes of Masamune Kikuiri and his fellow teenage schoolmates. The youth are the perfect vessels for dealing with Maboroshi ‘s themes. Adolescence is the time in our life spans in which we are at our most uncertain and aimless — the time where we’re most likely to ask that question: “What am I living for?” With reality continuously making less and less sense, these teens have resorted to cheap thrills: teasing, violence, acts of attrition, and tests of courage — anything to feel something again. There’s a certain numbness that can be observed throughout Maboroshi ; be it through the crass, careless way in which our characters interact, or through the film’s gorgeous cinematography and OST. Taken in as a whole, the film’s atmosphere is edgy in a manner that feels odd, yet both intentional and essential in fully following through on Okada’s bold vision. This thought experiment created is full of mystery, and its unorthodox storytelling will keep you guessing all the way till the credits roll. What exactly are the supernatural occurrences that have befallen Mifuse? When will it all end? Can the adults be trusted in guiding the people through this strange new world order? And just who is the secret child that these leaders have stashed away in Blast Furnace #5? The journey to solving these mysteries is rich in harsh character drama, culminating in an emotional third act capable of pulling your heart in all directions. My favorite aspect of Maboroshi is its bold willingness to uncompromisingly explore its unusual ideas, achieving narrative and storytelling outcomes that are only possible in its engaging world.
Maboroshi is a stunning anime bursting at the seams with intriguing storytelling, great cinematic moments, and raw emotion. But it’s also a show with some notable caveats. The first is that there are character moments in here that push the needle too far in terms of shock value and novelty. For the most part, I thought the characters in this show are portrayed well within the show’s odd, mature setting. However, there are at least a couple of character moments that come across as needlessly gross, while others at times feel unjustified or underdeveloped. These abrupt points of whiplash in the story are part of a larger issue surrounding the show: that being a shortage of organic character development. Notably, the second act struggles to convincingly connect the other thirds of the film together. Key story beats that feel like they come out of nowhere, as the screenplay sacrifices coherency in exchange for cryptic symbolism. On that note, despite my praise so far in this review, there’s a decent chance that some audiences may come away from Maboroshi dissatisfied. The movie’s medley of supernatural elements and shocking twists might leave you not knowing what to think of it all. Thankfully, I’ve done some of the thinking for you. Let’s really uncover what makes this movie so special.
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Death appears to be the only real escape from this purposeless prison, but the people of Mifuse cling onto a different hope. Mamoru Sagami is the head of a family of religious Shinto priests. In the immediate chaos after the factory explosion, Sagami had convinced the people to deify the Sacred Wolf. This strange god would protect the townspeople from the abnormal cracks, and eventually allow for the survivors to return to reality. But, as Masamune discovers, there are secrets hidden behind this veil of religious superstition. Sagami’s step-daughter and mysterious classmate, Mutsumi Sagami, enlists Masamune’s help in taking care of a secret girl hidden in Blast Furnace 5. This child, whom they name Itsumi, is later revealed to be a remnant of the real world that has strayed into a mirror dimension — a temporal realm that formed on the night of the explosion. As proof that reality exists beyond, Masamune and Mutsumi eventually discover that their real-life counterparts have grown up together as adults, still waiting on their daughter Itsumi to return home. The disheartening revelation that their existence is a lie sends Mifuse’s frozen townspeople into chaos and hopelessness, as more cracks appear than ever before. Itsumi’s emotions are also understood to be destabilizing the mirror dimension, further adding to the aberrations. It’s up to the teenage Masamune and Mutsumi to return Itsumi to the home where she belongs, before this illusion comes apart completely.
To some, Okada’s Maboroshi might seem like a M. Night Shyamalan screenplay, with dramatic twists thrown in from left and right, while lacking rhyme and reason. But there is a deeply symbolic method to the madness — connecting the dots formed between the cracks, the wolves and the existential crisis that takes over Mifuse. But in order to explain what it all means, we’re gonna need to enter some… difficult territory.
The Greek myth of Sisyphus was famously cited by French philosopher Albert Camus. As the story goes, the Greek gods confined Sisyphus to an eternity of pushing a boulder up a hill, only for the boulder to roll back down upon reaching the top. What makes this divine punishment so excruciating is that Sisyphus is fully conscious throughout, and is constantly reminded of the futility of his actions. But Camus notes that in spite of his turmoil, in spite of gods and a universe he cannot control — Sisyphus has control over one thing: the boulder that's presently in front of him, and getting it as high up the hill as he can. In that control he finds meaning, and in that meaning he finds joy. “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”
Camus used this myth to tackle what he described as “the fundamental question of philosophy” which is the meaning of life. He claims that the act of pushing Sisyphus’ boulder is a form of absurdity: the parts of life that lack reason and purpose. Camus rejects every manner of living that rejects or negates the absurdity of life; be it through intentional death, religion or otherwise. He argues that true purpose must be attained by embracing the constant battle between “a mind that desires, and a world that disappoints.” Only by accepting absurdity and finding fulfillment in the present moment, can we create our own meaning and purpose in a world that refuses to make sense.
How does one truly embrace absurdity? “What am I living for?” Maboroshi offers us one answer, and it lies in probably the most absurd absurdity of them all.
“Do you hurt? Is it Love?”
“Yeah. It hurts. How do I put this… it’s a Sweet Pain.”
Masamune Kikuiri loves Mutsumi Sagami. But he’s always hated her as well. That doesn’t make any sense, but it never needs to, and yet it does. Is that sensation one of desire? Or a nagging hatred? His chest aches all the same, filling his waking moments with thoughts of Her. In a universe parallel to a reality in which their adult selves fell in love, under a sky trapped in winter, these teenage illusions found a love of their own.
“What am I living for?” Maboroshi ‘s answer is to embrace the ever-illogical present, even amidst pain. To surrender our futile attempts at finding lasting control or complete understanding of a world that fails to make sense — of a tomorrow that remains an elusive mystery. Life is not about cowardice and running away from the hurts we cannot comprehend. Life can be about love, just as much as it can be about heartbreak; they are two sides of the same coin, and will stir our hearts either way. This is our burden to carry up the hill we call life. It hurts, but it’s this sweet pain that reminds us that right now, in this moment, we are alive.
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Kidding, I'll spare ya' the spiel. Thanks so much for checking out the review! I've tweaked things here and there to make this review as a video essay, which was a fun learning experience for me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all the support over the years, I wouldn't have come this far without you. If you happen to like my verbose rants, feel free to check out my other reviews for seasons past and present. I also frequently post writeups under my list updates, so definitely take a peek if you'd like to see me mald over anime as they hit the airwaves. Peace~
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