[The following review contains MINOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]
The Little Girl Who Conquered Time (also known as The Girl Who Leapt Through Time—and yes, Mamoru Hosoda’s identically titled anime is a loose remake/stealth sequel) shares several structural and stylistic similarities with Nobuhiko Obayashi’s previous directorial effort, I Are You, You Am Me. Like the earlier movie, its plot revolves around ordinary teenagers encountering extraordinary supernatural phenomena, with fantastical events disrupting their otherwise mundane lives (involuntary time travel in this case, rather than body swapping). The story likewise unfolds in the same setting: the filmmaker’s own hometown of Onomichi. Even the Wizard of Oz inspired transition from black-and-white to color cinematography is recycled—though the execution is quite different, beginning as a small splash of warm yellow in the center of the screen that gradually “bleeds” out toward the edges.
Once again, Obayashi omits many of the trademarks that defined his experimental work, instead adopting a more conventional visual language. It’s probably reductive (not to mention cliché) to characterize the quaintly nostalgic, old-fashioned imagery as evocative of Ozu… but I honestly can’t think of a better description; the patient, placid tone that pervades every meticulously composed frame is simply too reminiscent of Good Morning and Equinox Flower (the copious quantities of vibrant red hues may contribute to this impression, as well). Thus, when the narrative finally explodes into a zany, gonzo, spectacular special effects extravaganza during the climax (featuring surreal live-action stop-motion photography, charmingly low-tech chroma key scenery, and the most emotionally devastating dolly zoom I’ve ever seen), the maximalism feels all the more impactful and purposeful—a collision of contrasting artistic sensibilities that elegantly parallels the central conflict.
Ultimately, The Little Girl Who Conquered Time is a strange hybrid that resides at the intersection between commercialism and avant-garde expressionism—sincere and sentimental enough to be accessible to general audiences, yet also playfully creative enough to appeal to avid cinephiles. It absolutely earns its status as a cult classic.
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