In Japanese folklore, there exists what’s known as “kaibyō,” a cat that possesses supernatural properties. Of the three types within kaibyō — bakeneko, maneki-neko, and nekomata — manga creator Imashiro Takashi took inspiration from the bakeneko type for his series Bakeneko Anzu-chan, which published from 2006 – 2007 in serial form within Kodansha’s Comic BomBom. Now, under the co-direction of Yôko Kuno (Airy Me) and Nobuhiro Yamashita (Let’s Go Karaoke!), audiences are invited into the odd world of Bakeneko Anzu-chan via the animated family fantasy adventure Ghost Cat Anzu. After an initial screening during Cannes 2024 and a wide release in Japan, Ghost Cat Anzu held a North American premiere during Fantasia International Film Festival 2024, bringing with it all the weird, the zany, and the hope of broken hearts to an even wider audience.
L-R: Anzu voiced by Mirai Moriyama and Karin voiced by Noa Gotō in GHOST CAT ANZU. Photo courtesy of Fantasia International Film Festival/GKIDS Films.
Having run into money troubles, Tetsuya (voiced by Munetaka Aoki) brings his 11-year-old daughter Karin (voiced by Noa Gotō) to the Sousei-Ji Temple where he grew up in hopes of having some monetary support from his estranged father, Oshô (voiced by Keiichi Suzuki). When things don’t go as planned, Karin is left behind with the promise of her father’s return by the anniversary of her mother’s death. Of the many things Karin must learn to grow accustomed to in the small town her grandfather resides, the one that’s hardest is the ghost cat, Anzu (voiced by Mirai Moriyama), who lives at the temple. Feeling as though she’s perpetually on her own, Karin is reluctant to get along with Anzu (or anyone else, for that matter), but when push comes to shove, will Karin have finally found someone who will stick around?
Karin voiced by Noa Gotō in GHOST CAT ANZU. Photo courtesy of Fantasia International Film Festival/GKIDS Films.
Adapted by Shinji Imaoka (Manami 100%), Ghost Cat Anzu is a fascinating mixture of slice-of-life storytelling with magical elements, a concept that one might feel shouldn’t work, but resonates powerfully when one removes the top layer and looks underneath. Set in a beautiful countryside section of Japan, on the surface, we’re given a story about Karin getting used to a new environment and all the isolating and uncomfortable elements that come with it, like meeting new relatives, new people, and generally dealing with the upheaval of one’s life. The story itself is presented over an undisclosed period of time one summer, yet it still contains this sense of timelessness, of nebulousness, that comes from possessing no anchor. As such, the story doesn’t so much have a direction, but a series of moments which, individually, are not terribly engaging, yet, collectively, create the necessary pieces for the emotional payoff. With its beautifully crafted art design, there’s a pervasive warmth throughout Ghost Cat Anzu which makes one feel wrapped in its artistic interpretation of this world. This is a mask for the story, one of abandonment and loneliness. Karin, as played by Gotō, is selfish, irritable, and filled with disdain — mostly directed at Anzu. When one pulls back on the character, one sees Karin as a child whose father not only left home 20 years ago without making contact again, but left her with her grandfather after only a brief word. She’s not quite an orphan, yet her view of the world is as one, and the pain of loss she feels from her mother, dead three years, is all that remains for her. It makes for a hard character for the audience to sympathize with at first, requiring time that the narrative as executed provides.
Within that time, the script by Imaoka allows us to shift how we look at Anzu. He is an orphan himself, taken in by Oshô as a kitten, he and has lived long enough to see Tetsuya grow up and Oshô’s wife pass. In that regard, one could view Anzu as Karin’s uncle, an attribute that makes the reactions and responses Anzu gives to Karin in her fits of displeasure take on a different color. Of course, Anzu is a cat, so a great deal of his actions are driven by this fact. Just because one looks human or human-ish, doesn’t mean one is, yet the reactions, the responses, and the choices that Anzu makes often are not those of a cat existing for its own entertainment or gains, nor of a supernatural entity seeking glory or gains, but that of a sibling or caring relative begrudgingly taking on the responsibility of a younger relative. This is the deeper element within Ghost Cat Anzu from which the narrative plants its emotional core so as to bind everything together when the natural and supernatural realms begin to collide as Karin’s heartbreak guides her toward a period in her life in which she was last happy. Who else will take verbal abuses, allow repeated insults to integrity, and still stay loyal like family, by blood or by choice? Additionally, with Anzu as the audience’s first introduction to supernatural entities, a door is opened to other characters and beings from which the narrative can pivot from its grounded elements toward the veil that exists on top of it. This Ghost Cat Anzu is able to incorporate the magical realm in such a manner as to maintain the slice-of-life aspects without veering too far into a different subgenre of cinema.
As a film in which opposing worlds exists simultaneously (natural, supernatural; present, memory; love, pain), it makes sense that the film is, itself, constructed from two worlds. Utilizing rotoscoping, a technique in which animators draw over live performances, everything we see is of two worlds. There’re the flat backgrounds, the spaces in which everything happens, whether interior or exterior, which are animated minimally, and the characters themselves maneuvering within them. Artistic Director Julien De Man (The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse; The Red Turtle) captures the absolute beauty of the Japanese countryside: the vibrancy, the life energy, the possibilities that such a space can afford in comparison to the colder, populated Tokyo. Though the backgrounds are constructed to be more rigid than the performances, De Man crafts them so that they possess weight, ensuring that they are as much lived-in spaces as these characters would exist in and engage with in live-action. To that end, animating live performances simultaneously gives the characters an otherness about the spaces they are in, adding a fluidity to the character movements that isn’t always present in modern animation. This makes the characters more life-like, even when reality is heightened and the bridge between worlds narrowed. In fact, the rotoscoping aids in the weight of said-bridging as it puts all of the characters on the same plane of existence, artistically speaking. This also translates to more realistic movements on the parts of the characters as what we see is based on the performances from the cast while on location. For a glimpse of the real spaces, make sure to stay through the credits to get a look at spots used throughout the film.
L-R: Karin voiced by Noa Gotō and Anzu voiced by Mirai Moriyama in GHOST CAT ANZU. Photo courtesy of Fantasia International Film Festival/GKIDS Films.
Ghost Cat Anzu is a film that doesn’t grab you immediately, so much as win you over through process of taking it in. Karin is not particularly warm or engaging and Anzu is, well, a cat, so there’s a certain amount of only-so-engaged the character will be by nature of being a cat. But, through the course of events, we come to see Karin not as a spoiled child, but as someone hurt who longs to feel connected again, and Anzu as a figure who takes the responsibility of being a sort of spiritual protector seriously. This does lead to a few storylines seemingly cut off without resolution (possible a by-product of adaptation) and an ending that raises more questions than answers, yet one can’t help but be drawn in all the same. More than that, we grow to care for Karin and Anzu in unexpected ways, likely because Ghost Cat Anzu wears its heart on its sleeve, entreating those who explore this universe to treat it tenderly, and promising to make the time spent feel worth it.
At the time of this writing, The Animation Guild (TAG) is teetering closer to a strike as the current contract expires at the end of July 31st, 2024, and negotiations are not where TAG would like things to be. One cannot look at a work like Ghost Cat Anzu and not consider the work that goes into creating such a fantastical and bittersweet story. Even without the extra steps required for rotoscoping, the animators, artists, voice actors, and more contribute to create adventure out of imagination in a way that differs greatly from live-action, yet is viewed as less-than by those with the purse strings. In 2023, one of the most beloved films (critically and from general audiences) was Hayao Miyazaki’s The Boy and the Heron, distributed in North American by GKIDS, and, yet, despite all of its accolades, all the studio heads on down would likely devalue its success and that of the people who made it in comparison to live-action stories that never made it on a critics list, let alone made back its budget. Animation has incredible value and is one of the main reasons why audiences remained entertained and how studios and distributors were able to keep functioning during the shutdown periods of the pandemic. To undervalue or devalue the contributions of those who create these stories, for films or television series, is a larger issue with the way people think that animation is somehow easier to create or produce compared to live-action stories.
Screening during Fantasia International Film Festival 2024.
For more information, head to the official Fantasia International Film Festival 2024 Ghost Cat Anzu webpage.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
Share this:
Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
Leave a Reply