Unlike plenty of time torn films, Maboroshi is the kind of film that doesn’t have a straightforward explanation for the town of Mifuse standing still in time. But even when it doesn’t have a logical reason, the way the film unfolds has a distinct feeling as it explores the illusions the town either could cling to, or release to grow. This kind of storytelling would be familiar to fans of the prolific screenwriter Mari Okada, who just started directing in 2018 with Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms, but even those new to her work would appreciate the pure emotion driving Maboroshi, if they can let go of reality and enjoy MAPPA’s exquisite art for a moment.

The fantastical world of Maboroshi is a town in stasis: a town in which after an explosion, remains stuck in time, specifically the 1990s. Time hasn’t moved, so the adults decide not to move as well, enforcing restrictions to everyone’s day-to-day by banning changes through self-report forms in order to keep things normal. The fantastical world surely is a metaphor for something, but it certainly keeps its cards to itself. There’s something here about stasis in opposition to change, and Maboroshi demonstrates the multiple ways through which the town vascillates between the two, in the small scale (family, passions, and careers) and large scale (collective grief, religion, and widescale policies). The film portrays all these in such a surreal and slightly confusing way, but it’s certainly interesting especially with the beautiful art of the fractured world.