THE IMAGINARY (2023)

With barely a whisper, this emotionally charged fantasy adventure premiered on Netflix just a few days after its international theatrical release. Fans of heartfelt anime with some seriously dark undercurrents won’t want to miss Studio Ponoc’s The Imaginary / 屋根裏のラジャー / Yaneura no Rajâ.

Based on the popular 2014 children’s book of the same title by A.F. Harrold, it’s been adapted for the screen by Yoshiaki Nishimura. While still the lead producer for Studio Ghibli, Nishimura branched out to set up Studio Ponoc for the anime feature Mary and the Witch’s Flower (2017). His follow-up, Modest Heroes (2018), was an anthology showcasing the work of fellow Studio Ghibli graduates, including the writer-directors Hiromasa Yonebayashi, Akihiko Yamashita, and Yoshiyuki Momose, with whom he’s reunited for The Imaginary.

That it bears a remarkable resemblance to some of the best films to come from Studio Ghibli should come as no surprise with Yoshiyuki Momose directing. He joined Studio Ghibli in the late-1980s as a storyboard artist on Grave of the Fireflies (1988), where he became the assistant animation director. He then moved on to become a key animator for films like Porco Rosso (1992), Whisper of the Heart (1995), and Spirited Away (2001). His feature directorial debut came with NiNoKuni (2019), which shares the theme of a magical realm underlying and affecting everyday reality.

The central character, the ‘imaginary’ friend, is Rudger (Kokoro Terada)—most definitely not Roger. A lively young lad, Rudger is Amanda’s (Rio Suzuki) pretend companion, dreamt up by her imagination to cope with the reality of her father’s death. Their adventures together, powered by Amanda’s imagination, transform her attic into fantastical worlds filled with blue-spotted dinosaurs, floating castles, dragons, and gigantic yetis. Here, they chase stars and fly on the backs of swallows. Meanwhile, Amanda’s mother, Lizzie (Sakura Andô), spends most of her time running the family’s bookstore, which is struggling to stay afloat.

One might think this is yet another fantasy about children dealing with grief and loss. And yes, these are indeed difficult topics explored here. However, the film never descends into a mere exploration of ‘issues’. Instead, it possesses that rare depth of feeling and profound compassion that only anime seems to deliver so reliably. We’ve seen this in the classic Studio Ghibli films and more recently in a handful of contenders, like Makoto Shinkai’s astonishingly good Suzume (2022).

The Imaginary never dismisses the power of imagination as simply a way to escape real-life trauma. It portrays imagination as a salve, a source of healing. This aligns with recent psychological studies suggesting that children with active imaginations who engage with fantastical stories tend to be more creative, resilient, and better equipped to adapt to significant life changes. Furthermore, the film champions the fantastical as a way to enrich the every day, not to distract from it. In doing so, it resonates with the philosophy of the 18th-century Romantic literary movement, the progenitor of modern fantasy.

This makes a refreshing change from the rash of films dealing with heavy topics that seemed ashamed of being fantasy—films like I Kill Giants (2017), A Monster Calls (2016), and the depressingly bleak Bridge to Terabithia (2007) which perhaps started that trend. Instead, The Imaginary falls more into the same lineage as The NeverEnding Story (1984), Nim’s Island (2008), and the more recent IF (2024)—a movie which shares many parallels.

When Amanda is taken out of the picture due to an accident, we begin to wonder whose story this is. We soon realise the narrative structure is unusually clever. Although Rudger steps up as proxy protagonist, we still get Amanda’s story told in a very fulfilling way, even in her absence. What’s more, we soon realise that any individual’s story is a collaboration with those near and dear to them.

Parents are all too often reduced to cyphers in fantasy and Amanda’s mother, Lizzie, may seem at first to be a supporting character—she certainly turns out to be supportive—but her arc is just as crucial and ends up more than a mere subplot. In fact, almost by stealth, Lizzie’s tale becomes the backbone of the whole narrative. This trans-generational maturity sets The Imaginary apart and broadens its appeal way beyond being a children’s film, speaking eloquently to the child within all of us.

Whilst Amanda lies unconscious in hospital, her life hanging in the balance, Rudger begins to fade. He soon realises that without her active imagination keeping him alive, his days are numbered, and so he sets out to find her. However, as an untethered imaginary friend, he attracts the attention of Mr Bunting (Issei Ogata) who, despite his colourful Hawaiian shirt, exudes the creepily sinister demeanour of a groomer. At all times, he’s accompanied by his own scary imaginary sidekick, a little girl who bears a strong resemblance to Sadako from Ringu (1998). The deathly pale female ghost with very long black hair is an ancient archetype in Japan.

Bunting has his own backstory, which is largely glossed over. However, it seems he’s now a parasitic psychic vampire, keeping himself alive by devouring the imaginations of others in the form of their soon-to-be-forgotten pretend friends.He can also enter and alter the imaginations of others—a bit like Freddy Krueger, but with less wise-cracking. When he attempts to consume an imaginary friend, his face opens into a grotesque vortex of swirling teeth. Be warned, this will terrify young children.

Rudger narrowly escapes such a fate when Zinzan (Takayuki Yamada), a mysterious talking cat, intervenes and helps him find a doorway from reality into a parallel realm of imagination. From here on, we’re in more familiar Ghibli-esque territory as Rudger finds himself amidst a secret community of wild and wacky imaginaries who are no longer attached to their imaginers. However, instead of fading away, they hang out in a library where they feed off the imagination contained in so many books. Here, he is welcomed by Emily (Riisa Naka), the only other human imaginary, and befriended by Snowflake (Kanuka Mitsuaki), a pink hippo, and Cruncher-of-Bones (Ichiryusai Sadatomo), a tiny skeleton.

It’s a nice touch that the imaginary friends of young Picasso, Beethoven, and Shakespeare also survive there, still displaying characteristics of their creators. There’s also a poignant scene where Fridge (Akira Terao), a chunky old sheepdog, asks Rudger if he thinks Amanda’s mother is happy. We can guess how the talking dog knows of her, but this won’t be confirmed until we learn a little more about Lizzie’s own childhood during the climax.

When the library closes, its noticeboard transforms into a peculiar matchmaking app. It allows the imaginaries living there to connect with lonely children for a chance to be reimagined. Each night, the entire library is transformed into a different dreamscape, conjured from the countless books lining the shelves. The details whispered across floorboards and tiles hint at the source material. It’s a truly wonderful concept, a delightful interlude before the narrative unfurls.

The story is mature, intelligent, and above all, compelling. It builds towards a climax that reaches J-Horror intensity, culminating in a visually stunning and emotionally satisfying conclusion.

The art direction deserves high praise. Kosuke Hayashi and the Deho Gallery, a collective founded in 2015 to champion and preserve the art of hand-painted backgrounds in anime and video games, have delivered a masterpiece. The Imaginary is visually stunning, with intricate backgrounds that are often subtly relevant to the narrative. This rewards repeat viewings, as new details come to light.

The pacing, which some may find slow in the first act, is a hallmark of classic Japanese anime. It stands in stark contrast to many Western animated features, particularly those aimed at younger audiences. This deliberate approach allows us to truly inhabit the world of the characters, understand their situations, and develop empathy for their struggles. It aligns perfectly with the Japanese aesthetic concept of ‘ma’—the importance of emptiness, space, and pause. In music, it’s not just the notes that evoke emotion, but the silence between them.

Similarly, the interludes in a film allow viewers to reflect on what has happened and where the story is headed next. This is what we call engagement. When handled well, it deepens the viewer’s relationship with the material and becomes absorbing rather than boring. Combined with the beautifully realised world-building, this makes The Imaginary and similar films immersive, almost addictive. I often wonder why Hollywood hasn’t cottoned on to this, but in a way, I’m glad because it keeps films that achieve this admittedly difficult balance special.

Hayao Miyazaki and his protégés, like Yoshiyuki Momose, have proven themselves consummate practitioners of ma. The release of The Boy and the Heron (2023), Master Miyazaki’s final film as director, perhaps overshadowed The Imaginary. COVID-19 also played its part, disrupting production and delaying the release. Originally slated for 2022, it wasn’t released in Japan until mid-December 2023, opening for the festive season. Indeed, its magical quality and sentimentality make it perfect fare for the holidays, but there’s only one brief scene that references Christmas, so it remains a film for all seasons.

The English-language dub was released worldwide in late June and early July 2024, featuring a voice cast that includes Hayley Atwell and LeVar Burton. The author of the original novel, A.F Harrold, apparently provides some additional character voices, presumably as a mark of his approval.

Anyone who enjoyed pretend play as a child, and who had imaginary friends, will find the film achingly nostalgic. Any parent will be reminded of the inner world of children and, hopefully, find a deeper connection with their own—that is with their own inner worlds and those of their children.

Not to be confused with Imaginary (2024).

JAPAN | 2023 | 109 MINUTES | 2.39:1 | COLOUR | JAPANESE • ENGLISH (DUBBED)

Cast & Crew

director: Yoshiyuki Momose.
writer: Yoshiaki Nishimura (based on the novel by A.F Harrold).
voices: Kokoro Terada, Rio Suzuki, Sakura Ando, Riisa Naka, Takayuki Yamada, Akira Terao, Atsuko Takahata, Issey Ogata, Hana Sugisaki, Mitsuaki Kanuka & Teiya Ichiryusai. (Japanese) • Louie Rudge-Buchanan, Evie Kiszel, Hayley Atwell, Sky Katz, Kal Penn, LeVar Burton, Jane Singer, Jeremy Swift, Ruby Barnhill, Roger Craig Smith & Courtenay Taylor (English).