Lu over the Wall

Leave it to Japanese cinema to teach me something.

So, like, you ever notice how, thanks to our American education system, we’re, like, really versed in “Western” (read: European) folklore, with things like trolls, elves, orcs (thanks to Tolkien), goblins, witches, things of that nature?  I mean, that’s all well and good and whatnot, but such an education has left us decidedly bereft when it comes to knowledge of other legendary and folkloric traditions.  Because of this situation, we Americans see films like Ringu and The Grudge and just assume that Japan’s idea of ghosts is a chalky-skinned young girl with long, raggedy black hair, even though this is only a manifestation of the sub-genre of Japanese ghost known as the onryô (and even this visual styling only came about because of the influence of kabuki theatre).  Similarly, I’m sure I wasn’t alone when I watched Princess Mononoke for the first time and had no idea what was being depicted.

Lu over the Wall had much the same impact on me, in that I got to learn something about the Japanese take on merfolk.

The film’s plot centers on a somewhat listless boy who, through music, encounters a ningyo, a sort of human/fish hybrid from Japanese folklore.  As he bonds with the creature, his town has a somewhat negative reaction to her presence, resulting in some fairly dire consequences.

Directed by Yuasa Masaaki (whose previous efforts include animation work on shows like Shin Chan, Adventure Time, and Devilman Crybaby), the film is the second offering from Yuasa’s Science SARU studio, following Night Is Short, Walk on Girl earlier in 2017.  What makes it stand out from other animated offerings from the Land of the Rising Sun, like Mary and the Witch’s Flower, is the animation and art style.  Unlike Mary and the works of Studio Ghibli, Lu doesn’t exhibit an intricate style, heavy on detail and sharply-delineated outlines, but rather a more round, fluid, and expressionistic style, with vivid color use and smooth, slightly exaggerated motion.  Yuasa’s crew achieved this appearance by employing Flash animation, rather than fully hand-drawn or computer-generated animation.  The result not only moves differently from the slightly jerkier hand-drawn counterparts (and the occasionally too-slow or too-fast look of the CGI features), but brings more expression and emotion to the images themselves, rather than relying on voice acting or dialogue.  (Just putting it out there, the voice work and script were both pretty solid and effective here.)  Several scenes are actually voiceless, the art style morphing from the usual anime style into an amalgam of Haitian painting (think Mervilus or Hilaire) and childhood chalk drawings; the emotions run higher in these evocative scenes, especially when our protagonist’s grandfather’s subplot reaches its pinnacle near the end.  Muramatsu Takatsugu’s music, bringing in plenty of horns and woodwinds, and the various songs included round out a cinematic experience I’m definitely not accustomed to, but would certainly like to see more of.  Granted, the exaggerated movement of the characters is at times somewhat unnerving, but the subsequent fantasy-like feel of the created world allows the emotions to flow freely through the visuals.

All of that being said, I felt the plot was something of a secondary thought, with a few plot points either being resolved easily or brushed aside and characters occasionally shifting characterizations with little or no push.  Few of the characters are actually fleshed out to any appreciable degree, several looking like simple trait totems.  Still, there’s no shortage of feels to be felt, as the music and visuals carry us on quite the journey.  Themes of short-sighted and -minded discrimination and cooperation can be found, and I can’t help but shake the feeling that I witnessed a fable of sorts in the theater, but the mental connections are tenuous, and the film’s message looks to be something that can be taken quite differently by each viewer.

Plus, I got to learn a bit about the ningyo, which isn’t perfectly analogous to the European conception of merfolk, but it comes close enough to warrant such a translation.  The creature apparently tastes great, but catching it brings on misfortunes.  In the film, they almost take on a zombie-like facet wherein their bite causes the bitten to become a new ningyo, regardless of the victim’s species: a good portion of the ningyo population in the film eventually comprises mer-doggies, something we definitely need more of in our lives.

In the end, I was thoroughly entertained by Lu.  The entrancing and enchanting style, with its vibrancy and focus on music and emotion, never allowed my eyes to become complacent, and I couldn’t help but feel some emotions stirring at the climax.  I kinda wish American studios would provide more offerings like this, but the Japanese seem more than capable of supplying us with our fix.  Any fans of Japanese animation (or any quality animation, for that matter) will likely enjoy this gem, which is certainly flying under the radar by me (only one local theatre is carrying it, and they haven’t exactly been pushing it too hard).  Catch it if you can, kids.