By George & Josh Bate
Much like its lead character, who gradually becomes more emotionally present from scene-to-scene, the new SXSW premiere Anima evolves from a wayward and emotionally distant beginning into a deeply moving story of death, fatherhood, and found family.
The narrative feature debut of writer/director Brian Tetsuro Ivie, Anima stars Sydney Chandler (Alien: Earth) as Beck, a reserved and solemn young woman looking for a new job. Her pursuit takes her to Anima, a company that preserves dying people’s consciousness inside a cloud system. Beck’s first assignment after being hired is to drive the company’s client Paul (Rental Family’s Takehiro Hira) to the Anima facility, but, while embarking on the road trip together, Paul takes a number of detours as he attempts to come to terms with his regrets in life.
With an aesthetic, pacing, and tone similar to Kogonada’s After Yang, Anima begins as a rather meandering and restrained odyssey. Ivie’s film introduces us to Sydney Chandler’s Beck, a character of few words and even fewer overt emotions. She is coming to terms with the recent loss of her father while solemnly seeking out employment when she lands an unexpected job at a strange company. The company hires Beck to escort a client to their facility, where he will be euthanized and his consciousness will be uploaded to a cloud. While this introduction establishes the mentality of our lead character and the novel technology looming over the story, it doesn’t quite captivate or intrigue in a way one would hope. Beck doesn’t begin as a particularly interesting or gripping protagonist, while the Anima company’s consciousness-preserving technology is underdeveloped as fundamental questions about the tech works remain unanswered.
Initially stumbling in the delivery of exposition and emotional investment in our lead character, Anima slowly recovers as Beck and her client Paul embark on their road trip. Japanese actor Takehiro Hiro, known for his recent roles in Rental Family and Shōgun, brings much-needed energy to the story upon his introduction. Wearing a long leather trench coat straight out of the 1990s and perpetually sporting a concerned, anxious grimace, Takehiro Hira’s Paul drives the narrative of Anima forward, both literally and figuratively.
With Beck as his cross-country driver, Paul gradually makes his way through a hand-written list of people he wants to encounter one last time before his death. Strangely, writer-director Ivie decides not to give the viewer (and Beck) context for the first few people Paul visits, one of whom is played by Spotlight filmmaker Tom McCarthy in a brief cameo. In keeping the audience and our protagonist at a distance from why Paul is visiting these people, the film further delays emotional investment in the story and presents a fairly dull first act.
Both for Beck and the viewer, however, Paul’s journey becomes exponentially more interesting and moving when context is provided for a particular reconciliation he hopes to make. After working his way through several people, Paul insists that he and Beck make a detour to a small town. It is here that Paul’s most important stop on his final journey occurs as he hopes to make amends with the 16-year-old son whose life he has never been a part of. From the introduction of this segment of the plot and onward, Anima manages to tug on the heartstrings so profoundly and makes the missteps of the first act seem like they are part of an entirely other film.
As his character reckons with his impending death and regret regarding the lack of involvement in his son’s life, Takehiro Hira delivers a truly heartbreaking, subtly expressive, and awards-worthy performance. The Japanese actor does incredible work quietly conveying the anguish of a man burdened by regret, who feels like his death has arrived prematurely and yet is resigned to the fact that it is inevitable. He crafts a character so complex in his vulnerabilities without ever relying on heightened or exaggerated line delivery and facial expressions. It’s a performance that ranks among the most emotionally authentic we’ve seen in recent years and alone renders Anima a worthwhile watch.
Through Takehiro Hira’s performance, Ivie’s film elicits remarkable emotion as Paul and Beck begin to form an unexpected bond. The parallel between the characters – with Beck struggling with the loss of her estranged father and Paul, an estranged father, struggling with distance from his son – sets the stage for a touching relationship to blossom. Beck finds the semblance of a father in Paul, while Paul looks upon Beck as the daughter he never had. It’s through this relationship that Sydney Chandler’s performance moves beyond quiet reservation and hits on a more striking emotional chord. Together, Chandler and Takehiro Hira create an undeniably touching on-screen partnership that leaves a lasting impression. The fate of Hira’s character is forecast from the get-go and yet how it is played out, both from a writing and acting perspective, ensures that an emotional chord is struck and continues to reverberate.
VERDICT: 8/10
The new SXSW sci-fi road trip movie Anima takes ample time to overcome a wayward and emotionally distant first half but eventually comes alive as it transforms into a beautiful and deeply moving story of death, fatherhood, and found family. Takehiro Hira delivers a masterful, awards-worthy performance that authentically conveys the nuanced emotions of a character burdened by regret and headed toward certain death. The strength of Hira’s performance, coupled with an increasingly emotive turn from Sydney Chandler, fosters an endearing bond between characters who find old familial wounds healed through care for one another. It’s a testament to the potency of the emotions Anima evokes that its meandering and overly reserved first half remarkably does little to hinder the remarkable effectiveness of such a deeply moving film.