The Colors within ("Kimi no Iro") is a splendid tale of understanding ourselves.

Kimi no Iro is, without a doubt, THE BEST ANIMATED FILM I’VE EVER SEEN.

The review could end here, but if you want to know more, keep reading. There are slight spoilers of what happens, but I’ll tell you there’s no plot to spoil, it's simply the story of the everyday life of a girl named Totsuko (the blonde one on the poster).

Totsuko suffers from color blindness. But Naoko Yamada’s genius is in not making her disability a limitation or something to pity. Totsuko’s color blindness is used by the director to create a character who "sees the color of people." Because of her condition, the girl associates a color with each person she cares about. Totsuko attends an all-girls Catholic high school, complete with a dormitory. Almost by chance, she meets Kimi, a girl with black hair. Kimi is a stunning, seemingly perfect girl. However, the day after Totsuko meets her, Kimi suddenly disappears from school. Totsuko can’t accept this and sets out to find her. Without revealing too much, she eventually tracks her down almost by accident: Kimi, once the most popular girl in school with perfect grades, has left. She now works in a second-hand bookstore and spends her days playing the electric guitar her older brother left her before leaving home. Kimi hasn’t been able to tell her grandmother, the only person she lives with, the truth. Every night when she returns home, she lies, telling her grandmother she’s been at school. Kimi’s grandmother also attended the same school, and Kimi doesn’t want to hurt her by revealing the truth. Totsuko finds Kimi almost by chance at the bookstore, but she doesn’t know what excuse to make, so she picks up the first book she sees and takes it to the cashier, pretending she was looking for it: it’s a basic piano exercise book. Kimi is surprised and asks if she’s learning to play. As they talk, a boy who’s a regular customer at the store joins in, saying he’s always admired Kimi for how she plays. His name is Rui, and he plays a very unusual stringed instrument. Without thinking, Totsuko blurts out that "the two of them are forming a band and were recruiting members."

And so begins the story of the trio.

Rui doesn’t live in the city; his family runs a clinic on an island nearby. He is the heir to the family business, living under the pressure of needing to become a doctor and not make mistakes in order to enter one of the country’s most prestigious universities. Rui has a secret passion for music and a hidden place to practice: an abandoned Catholic church, which he is allowed to use in exchange for cleaning it. Here, he plays his instrument away from the ears of his mother, the island’s doctor. The trio meets at the church every Sunday to practice together.

I don’t think I need to say more; the rest I’d prefer you discover on your own.

Now, let’s talk about the themes:

• The first theme is Catholicism. Surprisingly, given that it’s a Japanese film, it has a deeply Catholic foundation: Totsuko (and Kimi, at first) attends a Catholic school run by nuns. Specifically, Totsuko confides in a teacher/nun named Hiyoko, a young and beautiful woman with unwavering faith. In my favorite scene of the film, Hiyoko, talking to Kimi, reminds her of one of the most beautiful passages from the Bible, Isaiah 43:4: "Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you," reminding the girl that it’s always possible to start over. I won’t lie, when I heard these words I was seriously crying uncontrollably, trying to hold it in.

• The second theme is that lies, even when told with good intentions, always have consequences: Kimi, the beautiful girl with black hair and blue eyes, has lied her whole life. She ran away from home and went to live with her grandmother and older brother. But when her brother leaves for a job, she’s left alone and has to wear the mask of the perfect girl, all while being consumed by depression. When she can no longer maintain her facade, she drops out of school but can’t bring herself to tell her grandmother the truth. She continues to lie to protect her from suffering. Without going into too much detail, lies always catch up with you, even the ones told with good intentions.

• The third and most important point: It’s never too late to start over: no matter the pain you feel or the stage of life you’re in, with the help of others (and God), you can always begin anew (remember Isaiah 43:4).

There’s so much more I could say, but I think this covers the main themes.

Now, I want to wrap up the review by talking about my feelings regarding the film.

I started silently crying from the very beginning: Totsuko’s color blindness isn’t presented as a disability or a condition that hinders her, but as a gift from God that the sweet girl embraces. She’s able to see the color of the souls of the people she loves.
I empathized with all the characters. There are no plot twists, miracles, or anything like that, but at the end of the film, we learn who was the author of a graffiti on Totsuko’s bed. When this small detail is revealed, I lost it and cried like a fountain.

At the start of the film, Totsuko is seen by the nun Hiyoko dancing with her head in the clouds, thrilled to have found friends. By the end of the film, Hiyoko, who reprimanded her at the start, reveals her true feelings and nature. That’s when I broke down.

My final rating for The Colors within is 100/100.

Honestly, I couldn’t find any flaws. I cried from start to finish, rejoiced, and hummed along in silence.

If you have the chance, go see it.