In their very first encounter, Fujino does not anticipate Kyoumoto praising her work. Kyoumoto's excitement is palpable as she stutters and fumbles her way to calling Fujino a "manga genius". On her way back home, Fujino initially appears to be stiff, unable to comprehend the compliment she just received. Gradually though, she begins to stride, with every passing frame making her look bigger than the last. As it starts raining, Fujino is practically dancing back home. It is a glorious sequence where the laws of reality behind the animation stop mattering too much. Fujino dances her way home, splashing puddles formed by the rain, overjoyed and, finally, excited to draw again.

This scene happens early in the movie and encapsulates much of what makes Look Back such a hypnotic watch. Every frame is crafted with intention and devotion to the source material, conveying its intent without the need for expository dialogue. It is these choices that allow the breathtaking visual presentation, which combines striking colours with a rough art style, to speak for itself.

Look Back is jam-packed with sublime moments like these. Montages in which years pass, and moments of quietness where characters are allowed to just live and share the comfort of another's presence – all of which are allowed to exist in silence. Despite the sub-one-hour runtime, the movie includes these scenes to organically allow our characters, Fujino and Kyoumoto, to grow – both with respect to each other and their art.

Adapted from Tatsuki Fujimoto's 2021 one-shot of the same name and directed by veteran animator Kyotaka Oshiyama of Studio Durian, Look Back is nothing if not about art and the human connections that give us all the more reason to pursue it. 

Read more

Uzumaki: A faithful but flawed adaptation of Junji Ito’s classic manga

It is told through the bond between Fujino and Kyoumoto, as they grow close and distant in the runtime of the film. The relationship they share is messy, much like the characters themselves. In classic Fujimoto style, the characters are off-kilter, and not altogether "likeable" in a traditional sense. They carry their flaws on their sleeves and often speak in sardonic ways, unwilling to acknowledge their feelings in dialogue. Art is how they meet each other halfway. The story, as a result, is an intertwined play of both the nature of art itself and these two characters' lives.

But what really helps the story live is the direction from Oshiyama, which feels careful and intentional.

The framing is always carefully considered, the montages are well-placed, and the music, executed wonderfully by Haruka Nakamura, hits its cadence only when it needs to.

Fujimoto is notorious for the rough and messy style in which his narratives play out – that energy is still contained here. But with Oshiyama's obsessive style, it is almost elevated in many ways.

Creating art is not a pleasant process, and at no point does Look Back even try to suggest that. Even Kyoumoto at one point asks, "Why do you draw?" The question has no definitive answer. But it would be silly to suggest that there is no answer at all. Both Fujino and Kyoumoto go through the wringer trying to make their dreams come true. The expressions on their faces make it clear that the time spent creating art is mostly spent in agony. And yet, they persevere. For Fujino and Kyoumoto, art is the language in which they communicate. For the rest of the world, it is up to us to decide what impact it can have on us. In today's wasteland filled with AI-generated slop, it is important to remind ourselves that creating art is painful, and yet tremendously beautiful, as a process.