Once in a rare while, you will have a meal so good that even years afterwards, you will remember it. The taste, the smells, the textures, the restaurant, the company, the whole experience. Most meals are completely forgettable (what did I eat for lunch again yesterday?) but a select few will stand the test of time, and even get better upon repeated tastings. Makoto Shinkai’s animated masterpiece, Your Name (or in Japanese, Kimi No Na Wa), is the film equivalent of that meal.
The basic premise is fairly unremarkable and even somewhat familiar: in modern day Japan, two high schoolers – Taki, a boy living in Tokyo and Mitsuha, a girl from the countryside – wake up one morning in each other’s bodies. But it only lasts for one day, and when they go to sleep, they wake up in their own bodies again. It happens every so often, but each time only for a day. What starts out as a typical body swap movie (albeit a very funny, charming, and original one) then takes a completely unexpected twist in the second half of the movie, which abandons the conventional three act structure. What was already an enjoyable experience takes off into an unexpected epic journey.
The time travel element may not come as a complete shock, but story-wise and emotionally, it is handled so much better and so much more creatively in Your Name than in just about any other romance. Each of the choices that Shinkai makes, from the very beginning of the movie to the end, is so intentional and so rewarding. For example, not explaining anything at the start and dropping the audience in media res is an incredibly gratifying act of trust in the audience. Most films would milk the very first time the body swap occurs and play that up for laughs and/or dramatic effect, but in Your Name we are only shown the initial waking up scene before it cuts to the following day when things are back to normal. This sets the tone and gives you the feeling of waking up after a realistic dream and feeling unsure of what happened. Shinkai exemplifies the cardinal rule of storytelling of “show, don’t tell.”
This film is so layered and complex that it will leave you thinking about it long past the end credits, and most of the fun is in the multiple viewings and long discussions with others. Some of the interesting themes and motifs of the film include seeing yourself in someone else’s shoes, time, distance, fate, and identity. Shinkai also plays up certain contrasts and juxtapositions of city vs. country, modern vs. traditional, boy vs girl, dreams vs reality, destiny vs choice, and religion vs technology. Even the two leads have such different personalities, and by crossing paths they are the better for it – Taki becomes more capable with a softer, more feminine side, while Mitsuha gets more admiration when she is able to stand up for herself.
The ending is mind-bogglingly good, filled with so much tension at the end that you almost can’t stand it. Literally, one woman in the theatre was yelling “COME ON! I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” and I wasn’t even upset because I felt the exact same way. My friends and I were squirming in our seats and grabbing each others’ shoulders. This isn’t just a consummate example of how to build tension, it works so well within the story too and is another instance of Shinkai making the bold, unique choice. Almost every other filmmaker would have just done a smash cut to the future, and then had Taki and Mitsuha meet within a couple of minutes, for a clean resolution.
But in Your Name, it goes on so long that it almost feels like a fourth act or a separate epilogue that stretches on and on and with all the near misses (reminiscent of Turn Left, Turn Right or Serendipity). The fact that this all occurs eight years after the main events of the story, coupled with all of the near misses and the unpredictability of the film up to that point (especially the outcome of the comet), makes you wonder in your first viewing whether they would even meet at all or if their thread of fate would not intertwine again. Shinkai’s final ending is not only a happy one, but one of such relief, and it almost would have been too much to bear otherwise. Even then, the way they see each other with that hint of recognition and hesitation, the slow walk past each other, not knowing what to say – it is so realistic and the perfect way to end a perfect experience (unbelievably, the ending is even more powerful in the novelization).
Another surprise was just how cinematic Your Name was. I’m not usually a big fan of anime or even animated films, but you don’t need to be in this case. Kimi No Na Wa is visually stunning, evocative of Wong Kar Wai and his detailed framing of each shot. The argument of dub versus sub will always rage on, and while I’m always partial to subtitles, rewatching this with the dubbed version allowed me to focus on how beautiful and how meticulously composed each of the shots in the movie was. Of course, a lot of the Japanese wordplay (the names of mitsuha, hitsuha, and yotsuha, the meaning of Miyamizu, as well as the whole “I” bit) is lost in the dub, and the subtitled version is much better, but that’s all the more reason to watch it multiple times.
Shinkai has been called “the New Miyazaki” but I actually much prefer the grounded-realism-with-elements-of-fantasy of Shinkai than some of the pure fantasy of Miyazaki. It’s so much more relatable, though you admittedly have to suspend your disbelief with a couple of consistency/story points. But Your Name is genuinely touching, with laugh out loud moments as well as gasp out loud moments. It will make you melt, get upset, and then teeter on the edge of your seat. The best kind of movie is not restricted by the limits of its purported genre. Is it a comedy, a romance, a drama, a fantasy, a sci-fi, a disaster movie? However you try to categorize it, the bottom line is that it’s a great movie because it pushes those limits and gets you emotionally invested.
The details of the film feel fully realized too. The role of relationships and especially friendships is particularly crucial, if understated. The soundtrack is brilliant – it’s catchy, emotional, and epic. You will be listening to Radwimps for weeks afterwards, and the score is just another example of how every piece comes together beautifully. The disaster element itself was inspired by the earthquakes and tsunamis of recent times, but also draws strong parallels to the bombings. Either way, the undertones reflect how strongly rooted the sense of tragedy is that is based on the collective real life experiences of Japan.
There are endless tangents to chase and theories to spin: why Taki didn’t write his name, and whether or not Mitsuha would have written “I love you,” when and why they cry at certain points, the red ribbon string of fate, why Mitsuha cuts her hair, the whole history of Itomori, and the meaning of entering/leaving the musubi shrine. The point is, this is a movie that is good enough to have you keep asking questions, and keep searching for the answers at the same time.
Kimi No Na Wa is the obscure restaurant your friends insist on trying out, and you reluctantly agree, but it ends up being a Michelin starred culinary experience. And all you can think about is, why didn’t I know about this earlier? It’s a meal that inspires you, an omakase meal where you just trust the chef because he knows better and will take you on a journey, and make you taste flavors that you will remember forever. Chef Makoto, more please!
