Fantasia Review: Cherry and Virgin is what I love about animation

When I tell people about how much I love animated movies, and how I have a blog dedicated to them, I often get asked why. Not necessarily in a judgmental way; usually, it's more out of curiosity, or maybe confusion. A lot of people don't watch much animation, thinking it's for kids, or wanting to dedicated their TV/movie hours to things that are more to their taste, which is totally fair. Different strokes. 

You would think that I'd have a good answer up my sleeve ready to roll out, but sometimes I find it hard to articulate just why animation is my thing. I usually land somewhere around how animation is able to conjure worlds that are so imaginative, so bountiful and abundant, so beyond the real world. There are things that animation can do that live-action can't. And when live-action tries to, it usually ends up using special effects which (more often than not) pale in comparison to the original animation (just look at any of Disney's limp remakes). 

But the next time someone asks me that question, if I want to, I can just refer them to Masanao Kawajiri's Cherry and Virgin, which received a Special Mention from the Jury at Fantasia. As the credits rolled, I was a blubbering mess, in part because of what happens in the movie and its wonderful story, but maybe in larger part because it's such a pure distillation of how powerful and endlessly creative animation can be, how it can tap into human emotions and experiences and give them shape and color and movement in ways that are impossible to put into words. I was like, holy shit, right, movies can be like this. They can be this good, this imaginative, this powerful. I can't remember the last time a movie shook me like this, had me vibrating where I wanted to just burst out of my skin and fly around the world as a ball of pure energy spreading the good news: YOU GUYS HAVE TO SEE THIS MOVIE.

I hope this review does it justice, but I don't know if I'm a good enough writer to put into words how special Cherry and Virgin is. Just know that every word of this review is secretly (or not so secretly) saying, "This is the best movie of the year."

Cherry and Virgin follows the blossoming romance between Ryo and Ami, both artists with unique worldviews. Ryo draws erotic manga, and he feels hopeless when it comes to women. He often sees the world as a source of inspiration before anything else, taking (sometimes crude/harsh) notes on the people he encounters as he twists them and their various interactions into fodder for his next manga. Ami is a BL-lover whose day job gets in the way of her artistic dreams. She wants to be an illustrator, and often reminisces about her more creative days when she worked alongside her classmates to tell stories about boys kissing. Both Ryo and Ami are new to the dating scene, both virgins, and both very anxious about their slowly-blooming connection, born on a dating app and nurtured over the course of dates full of tentative but stimulating conversation.

It's such grown-up stuff, a romantic comedy that that is both romantic and comedic without feeling like it's leaning too forcefully into either side of that genre equation. Ryo and Ami both feel so real, with all the weird habits and messy mistakes that make falling in love so exciting but also troublesome. When you meet someone and like them, suddenly the way you see the world starts shifting, gaining new colors and perspectives. Suddenly, you want to be able to see things the way they do, because that's just as important (or maybe more important) than the way you see them.

And the way this plays out in the film is so brilliant, and maybe the best example of style and substance being intertwined, being one, that I've ever seen in movie history. 

Ryo's world (and Ryo himself) is rendered in black-and-white, the lines a bit rough, shaky, scribbly. A lot of the scenes from his point-of-view play out like a manga, complete with panels flying by, dialogue popping up in speech bubbles, scrolling down a page. It's how he sees the world, makes sense of it, keeps it ordered. At times it's more like watching a storyboard than a finished movie, and in key moments, it devolves into even rougher shape, details being stripped away so that we only see the barest semblance of characters and scenery.

Meanwhile, Ami is full-color, lush and well-lit, with that kind of romantic zhuzh that makes you go weak in the knees. Her world looks more fleshed-out, more "real" in its way. When she and Ryo share the screen, the result is electrifying. Sometimes, one of them is surrounded by the other's palate while retaining their own. Sometimes, we get a split screen, a straight-on half-and-half. Sometimes, that split screen shifts as the characters move. And other times, well...I don't want to get too detailed with the way these art styles interact and respond to each other, but I'll just say that this movie is packed with moments of artistic flourish that are so emotionally profound, I kept having my breath taken away, squealing, sighing, sobbing. The sequence when the characters' intimacy takes a big step forward...it's one of those things that I will never forget. Just thinking about it now, my eyes are welling up again.

And the film doesn't just use these two aesthetics, either. Certain supporting characters are rendered in wholly other styles. One of Ryo's friends looks like a Gundam, while another looks like a 3D V-tuber. Flashbacks use various styles that reflect how the characters would've drawn themselves back then: rudimentary figures, lined notebook paper, gradual steps toward more detail and voice. There are even a few blips of live-action peppered in. Kawajiri uses every tool at his disposal, approaching ever sequence, scene, or moment within a scene with generosity and care, always finding the most expressive, thoughtful, and/or exciting way to bring these characters' experiences to life.

It makes Ryo and Ami feel like such real people. These are some of the most multi-faceted, textured characters I've seen in a movie this year. It's kind of crazy how quickly I fell in love with them, and how hard I was rooting for them. I love rom-coms more than just about any genre, and this is just about the best animated rom-com I've ever seen, and one of the best in the genre in general.

And, it's one of favorite movies I've ever seen, period. It's rare to watch something that goes straight to your heart the way Cherry and Virgin did for me. It's such a beautiful example of why I love movies, and why I love animation specifically: there's no other medium where this story could have been told with such abundance. Every frame is a joy to discover, and it's the kind of movie that I suspect will only get richer on re-watch, untangling all the meaning there is to find in its shifting styles and colors. I'm so grateful to be alive at a time when a movie like this is being made. It's the easy highlight of this year's Fantasia for me, and I'll be surprised to see if any other movie tops it for me this year.