What do you get when you swap anime fantasy for reality? Director Takayuki Hirao provides an answer in 90 minutes of cinematic introspection.
★★★✰✰
It’s a fairly rare occurrence for filmmakers to inspect and rummage around in their own backyard, but meta cinema-on-cinema can strike gold when it’s done with aplomb (take the year’s earlier release of Bergman Island). When it doesn’t, it can feel tricky for audiences to know exactly where they stand, floundering in a sea of detail that might not mean anything at all. Such can be said for Takayuki Hirao’s Pompo The Cinephile, straying from the traditional roots of fantastical anime to deliver a sprinkle of realism that doesn’t always land.
Rookie PA Gene (Hiroya Shimizu) is provided the chance of a lifetime when his employer, the eccentric film producer Pompo ( Konomi Kohara), chooses him to direct her next feature film. Meanwhile, first-time actress Natalie (Rinka Ōtan) is taken under the wing of starlet Mystia (Ai Kakuma), aiming to follow in her footsteps to be the next leading lady. As the two paths merge, the road to making Pompo’s latest film a success is peppered with chaos, setbacks, and ever-changing plans.
Even if viewers approach Pompo The Cinephile with little understanding of the anime world (or a particular love of cartoons), there’s a guaranteed visual spectacle to behold. From subtle refractions of light in street puddles to a giant octopus swatting idle swimmers out of the waves, the artistic crafts audiences have come to know and expect from Japanese animation is present in every frame. Even the darkened cinema screen holds an extra sense of magic in its appearance, worlds apart from the typical sense of open-minded whimsy embedded in anime narrative. Viewers will quickly be swept up in the overarching joyous mood, taking in the swings and punches of filmmaking in a way only anime can portray. Much like any favoured Japanese flick, there’s a lot to enjoy at surface-level — almost like a deep breath that takes you back to a carefree childhood.
Where Pompo The Cinephile falls down is its chosen subject matter. At the best of times, the internal cogs of cinema can make for a rather dry topic, despite how glamourised it can appear with the right rose-tinted glasses. In the framework of animation, it’s a choice that can often miss the mark. Anime is arguably at its best when exploring realms so far beyond reach that the human mind can barely touch them. Whether that’s soaring through the clouds in Castle In The Sky, discovering supernatural powers in Weathering With You, or being on the dystopian lam in Ghost In The Shell, anime is an amazing vehicle for encouraging us to think differently, leaving our limitations at the door to explore something otherworldly. Pompo does manage to do this to a certain extent — it’s refreshing to see the industry challenged in any way — but never holds enough clarity to make a statement. At times it can be unclear whether the film is an outright critique, or is happy to go along with the status quo.
Somewhere in the middle of these two opposites sits the success of the characters. Largely endearing and worth rooting for, the plucky cast make for satisfying viewing that’s easy to empathise with. Self-deprecating Gene is an ideal vehicle for pulling the narrative hooks forward, though is perhaps too loaded with doubt to be overly tolerable. Natalie Woodward (perhaps a play on Natalie Wood) and Mystia make for an eagerly-pleasing duo, getting to grips with sharing a life on either side of the line of success. The most questionable character is our leading lady Pompo. With her work easily branded as B movies, she’s equally as keen to exploit a woman’s sexuality in the name of a quick buck. Appearing to be no older than a teenager, her actions leave an unsure aftertaste, particularly considering Japan’s history of hypersexualising its younger female characters.
The Verdict
Pompo The Cinephile is a guaranteed good time for those that appreciate the visual craft of animation. There’s plenty to be swept along with yet struggles to pose any hard-hitting questions in a world firmly shaped by reality. Perhaps it’s this sense of ambiguity that holds its appeal — there are many thematic conversations to be had, even if they don’t stem from the conviction of its drama.
Words by Jasmine Valentine
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