Initially, I was worried about the change in Kusuriuri’s voice actor. Despite greatly admiring Hiroshi Kamiya’s work, this character has a very peculiar way of speaking, and even the smallest alteration could completely mischaracterize him. I’m so positively surprised that I’ll start this review by praising Hiroshi’s incredible work. The difference was barely noticeable, and I’m immensely grateful for the meticulous effort he put into bringing back the Medicine Seller we remember and love.
Visually, Kusuriuri has undergone slight changes. Details like colors, hair, and makeup give him a refreshed look while maintaining cohesion with his original design. Even with updates to his design, his character still bridges opposites—human and spirit / emotion and logic.
The art style was something I was very curious about, not just because of the updated color palette but also to see how the animation would benefit from newer techniques. After all, 17 years have passed, and the animation industry has transformed significantly—not just in technology but also in storytelling and pacing.
Some key elements remain intact, which I’m thrilled about. For instance, the film stays true to the series' signature ukiyo-e-inspired art style and its distinctive paper texture, creating a dreamlike and otherworldly atmosphere. Sound effects, angles, and scene transitions feel faithful to the original, evoking a sense of nostalgia. However, there are marked differences. Compared to the 2007 series, Phantom in the Rain features much more movement, quicker scene cuts, and heightened color saturation. At times, it was hard to absorb everything while reading subtitles—it’s definitely not a film you can watch just once, as much can be missed in a blink.
This isn’t a drawback, though—it feels like a deliberate choice, amplifying the discomfort and immersion typical of Mononoke. It forces the audience to engage fully, opening their minds and eyes to capture every detail. Personally, I prefer slightly less movement, especially compared to the minimalism of the 2007 series. Jumping into Phantom in the Rain with the expectation of the same pacing might be jarring. Still, I appreciate the creative risk taken here. They balanced the movement well, giving the film a fresh yet familiar feel for long-time fans. And of course, just being able to watch in high resolution is a game-changer. The well-defined and emphasized shapes complement the cinematic experience beautifully.
Once again, the story is brilliant. The narrative structure feels very similar to the series, but with more sophisticated and daring visuals, they were able to omit certain aspects that would have previously been explained aloud. This is the biggest difference I noticed in storytelling—we rely more on visual cues and our own perceptions to draw conclusions (of which there are many possible interpretations).
Compared to the 2007 series, this film demands more attention since the ending can feel disconnected if key details are missed along the way. While the Medicine Seller still announces the Form, Truth, and Reason of the Mononoke, he doesn’t explain everything step by step as explicitly as before. I see this as a positive—this approach keeps the essence of the story but invites us to engage with it differently. Mononoke is known for its carefully crafted mysteries that only fully unravel at the very end. Judging by a few scenes, it seems the continuation will be tied to the setting of Part 1, in a very intriguing way.
This time, I appreciated how we were shown a bit more of the Medicine Seller's other persona, and how they explained more about the realm he comes from and the hierarchy he is a part of. Additionally, they provided more details about the sword. As always, it’s not about who he is, but about what he does and how he does it. Kusuriuri remains a mystery, and that’s what makes him so intriguing. Besides, in the 2007 series, we had only seen Mononoke that had already taken form, even if they had not been discovered yet. Here, it is different; it is the first time we see the 'birth' of a Mononoke, this crossing between the human and spiritual realms, the exact moment of its manifestation.
The return of the wall masks in key scenes was a treat—some of them even identical to those from the Faceless Monster arc in the 2007 series. This parallel between the two cases is fascinating, as the masks metaphorically represent how characters hide their true selves, only for the Mononoke to rip these facades away, exposing raw emotions and vulnerabilities.
As always, Mononoke brims with symbolism, weaving themes of human emotion, societal constructs, and supernatural elements. I’d like to share some of the symbolism I noticed and how I interpreted some of the details.
Rain/water Symbolism
Rain is often used in storytelling to symbolize cleansing, renewal, and emotional release. In Mononoke: The Phantom in the Rain, rain becomes a conduit for emotional turmoil. The droplets falling on bowls and disturbing the water mirror the internal disturbances of the characters. The rain's dual nature as both a purifying and an overwhelming force reflects the complex emotional landscape of the women trapped in the Ooku. The rain here is not merely a weather phenomenon but a reflection of the psychological and emotional "storms" the characters face. At the same time, it acts as a liminal space—a medium for the Mononoke to manifest, bridging the physical and spiritual realms. Water is frequently depicted as a portal in global storytelling, where it bridges planes of existence.
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The Phantom as a Symbol
The term Phantom evokes themes of haunting, repression, and vengeance. The "phantom" in the title is a manifestation of the collective consciousness of the women in the Ooku. The film delves into how their suppressed emotions—grief, frustration, resentment—collectively form this supernatural entity. The mononoke, or spirit, represents not just an individual’s torment but the larger, collective suffering of those who have been oppressed and dehumanized (The scene towards the end when they all scream together from the bottom of the well, oh my...). It also illustrates how, in many oppressive environments, the "phantom" of collective trauma can emerge and manifest in ways that demand recognition and resolution.
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Karakasa Symbolism
The karakasa, a traditional yokai (a class of supernatural entities and spirits in Japanese folklore) symbolized by an animated umbrella, plays a significant thematic role. The umbrella shields characters from rain, symbolizing their attempts to guard against emotional exposure or protect their identities. A poignant parallel arises when Kitagawa advises Asa to “not completely dry herself,” emphasizing the importance of preserving her inner essence rather than conforming to external expectations. This metaphor suggests self-preservation against societal erasure or the loss of individuality.
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The Harem as a Microcosm
The harem’s setting becomes a microcosm of societal inequality where women’s identities and roles are shaped by external pressures rather than their own desires or agency. The power dynamics within the harem reflect broader societal structures where individuals, particularly women, are often forced to abandon their personal values or desires in favor of survival within a system that seeks to control them. The harem setting becomes a symbol of collective repression, where the voices of the women are stifled by an imposed order. Here, the Mononoke is acting as a voice for the silenced and suppressed individuals.
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All the manifestations of the Mononoke in this story are connected to water. Two characters refer to the entity as the goddess of water at one point. The blond character (who I still find rather mysterious) is seen inside the well later in the story (it seemed like an attempt of contacting the goddess, to make sure it's her). The portal in Ooku resembles the entrance to Shinto temples, a religion that includes among its deities the Water God, Suijin (a dragon, the same one appearing on one of the three pillars at the bottom of the well). The well has scales on it's walls (maybe the well is the dragon itself). The Shinto water god is believed to be the patron deity of fertility, motherhood, and painless childbirth. People worship Suijin with offerings, believing that doing so ensures pure and unpolluted water for drinking.
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The story revolves around the Childbirth Celebration, a tradition intertwined with themes of sacrifice and purification. The important items discarded by the women are seen as offerings to Suijin, the water deity, reinforcing the symbolic value of these objects. These items transcend their physical nature; they embody deep emotional and spiritual connections, encapsulating the women’s sacrifices, struggles, and desires for renewal. As such, they become potent tokens for a ritual meant to maintain harmony and balance with the divine.
The act of discarding these possessions, significant both in their personal and symbolic weight, is framed as a gesture of cleansing—letting go of burdens and entrusting them to a higher power for purification or transformation. However, this ritualized offering fails to provide the intended liberation. Instead, the predatory and oppressive environment within the Ooku intensifies the pain and frustrations of the women. Rather than achieving a sense of freedom or renewal, the act highlights their continued entrapment and emotional turmoil, reinforcing the themes of repression and sacrifice, as these women are constantly suffering at the hands of those who hold the highest positions within the Ooku, namely Mugitani, Awashima, and Utayama.
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The narrative centers around the bond between Asa and Kame, paralleling the relationship between Kitagawa and her friend. Kitagawa sacrificed everything meaningful to her, including her friend, to conform to the restrictive rules of the Ooku. This friend was sent home(thrown into the pit?), leaving behind only an umbrella, symbolizing Karakasa. Interestingly, the precious item Kitagawa relinquishes upon entering the Ooku—a doll holding an umbrella—directly alludes to her friend. (I even considered the possibility of Kitagawa's friend not being an actual friend, but a metaphor to any woman that would no longer be useful to the Ooku and end up being discarded in the well).
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The film repeatedly highlights the bad taste of the water and shows us that the water the women consume comes from the well. This well contains not only the precious belongings they discard upon arriving at the Ooku but also the corpses of women who came before them.
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Connecting to the Karakasa, the Mononoke, not only representing Kitagawa's friend's anger and frustration but also embodying the collective anguish of all the women who were forced to abandon their true selves to fit into the Ooku's expectations and thrown into the pit when they no longer served their purpose. Figuratively and literally, the water is "poisoned" by the emotions and corpses of the women, an outcome that starkly contrasts with the intended purification expected from offerings to a deity. This water then evaporates (the air stinks of decaying bodies) and then pours down again in the form of rain, poisoning everything it touches.
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In the end we can even see the Mononoke trying to "touch" people through the raindrops, but Asa and Kame seem unaffected since it's directed at Utayama (the person who put them through pain) as it was before with Mugitani and Awashima.
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Crucially, Kitagawa's warning to Asa not to repeat her mistake—of letting go of what truly matters—becomes a turning point. Asa's decision to remain steadfast and protect her bond with Kame prevents history from repeating itself and ultimately breaks the oppressive hierarchy of the Ooku, freeing the negative emotions of all the women whose lives were taken there, enabling the Medicine Seller to exorcise the Mononoke.
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Returning to the three pillars lying in the well: at the film's conclusion, the dragon pillar is the only one with its rope severed at the precise moment when Kusuriuri exorcises the Mononoke. This could symbolize a release or a separation between the spiritual and human realms, but not only that, as the act of the rope breaking also reflects overcoming spiritual obstacles, or breaking the bonds that tie the characters to their unresolved traumas and emotions (a very fitting symbolism to indicate the Mononoke was exorcized).
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The inclusion of the three pillars aligns with the overarching narrative structure, as each pillar is associated with a specific god, mirroring the thematic layers of the story. This connection is reinforced by the fun detail that there are three films planned in this series, each potentially representing one of the pillars and its respective deity and providing a cohesive plot that ties together the trilogy's exploration of balance, sacrifice, and spiritual transcendence.
By layering the titular elements—rain, phantom, and the harem—Mononoke: The Phantom in the Rain crafts a narrative that is not just about the individual suffering of a few characters but about the collective emotional landscape of the group. In this sense, the collective trauma and repressed emotions of many individuals can form a shared consciousness that manifests in haunting and supernatural ways. These motifs not only create an immersive atmosphere but also challenge viewers to unravel complex ideas about identity and emotional resilience.
I admire how original the story is, and although it touches on recurring themes that are part of the broader work, the setting and approach are completely new and interesting. Not to mention, despite this film having a cohesive structure and a mystery with a clear beginning, middle, and end, it seems that the next two films will be connected to this one, with the conclusion of the larger mystery being tied up in the third and final film. If this is the case, it will likely be the most intriguing and complex mystery yet.
Mononoke continues to be a work like no other. In my opinion, they nailed every detail, though I personally prefer a bit less movement in animation. And I think the less saturated colors fit the story better. The film offers important reflections in a fluid and engaging manner, and what truly sets it apart is how the story is open to endless interpretations, shaped by each viewer's personal experiences— a genuinely unique journey for everyone. If you enjoyed the 2007 series, you're likely to find Phantom in the Rain equally captivating.
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