She shares no blood or background with Ariel, not even fully understanding the physical realities of motherhood, and yet in her efforts to be a good mother, she shines as few parents do in any medium. Although she is alone, knows nothing of motherhood, and was expressly warned never to love a mortal lest she endure true loneliness, Maquia raises the child as her own, and… sniff… you’ll just have to watch it for yourself.Īnime has some amazing mothers to its credit, from Hana in Wolf Children to the mom in the tenth episode of Violet Evergarden (another tearjerker of 2018), but there’s something special about Maquia. A neighboring kingdom invades, taking most of the lorph captive, but Maquia escapes in despair, only to stumble upon an orphaned baby boy she names Ariel. The titular Maquia is an orphan of the lorph clan, a small race of people who live for centuries with no aging and record their lives and histories by weaving cloth called Hibiol. This may be writer/director Mari Okada’s debut film, but her first movie is a humdinger in both its emotional impact and its fantasy world-building. With its 100% on Rotten Tomatoes, it looked like a film I was destined to love.įinally, I got to see it, and though my expectations were high, Maquia met them. I tried to avoid spoilers at all cost, but everything I read about this cross between Lord of the Rings and The Age of Adaline, including its growing reputation as an all-out tearjerker, only heightened my excitement. That title goes to Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms, a film I had no idea had already come out until I heard about it from Rachel of Reviewing All 56 Disney Animated Films and More! The description alone had me desperate to see it: a high fantasy tale of an immortal girl adopting a human baby. MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be PG-13 for some violence and mature themes, though nothing too explicit)įrom early in 2018, I thought that Mirai would surely be the anime film of the year, but no, it’s not. The love that I should have returned long ago! That raising me had to be such an ordeal. That love all too often I tried to conceal, No thought for a thank you, no room to revere!įor waiting so long for my thanks to be real, When I, in my infancy, cried more and more!ĭid I take for granted your keeping of me!
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