Review: Bubble (2022)

88/100

Netflix's Bubble (original: バブル) is such a beautiful film to introduce my blog here to the world of anime. I have loved this pretty genre way before starting The Filmic Ayahuasca, so I am looking forward to reflecting on my past watches (Studio Ghibli's library and Your Name (2016), I know), but for now, let's talk about this.

If there is anything that a lot of films have taught us, is that there is a light within the field of hopelessness. It is a fundamentally and practically good concept. The darkness that surrounds us just overwhelms our thoughts, that sometimes, it feels hard to notice the little charm lying in front of us. Though it may not last long, we should cherish it, enliven our minds, and understand that what we are going through is a condition. Conditions may not last long-- it may be, but they can be backgrounded by acknowledging beauty.

Unfortunately, a lot of films failed to get into this theme, and just present us with a feel-good story that offers nothing new. It is probably good for those just seeking entertainment, but entertainment too fades when you watch the same film 2,000 times. Bubble is within that enclosed bubble of films that succeed in catching my heart with this theme. Like the bubbles featured, the film is magical, curiosity-inducing, and very colorful. This is probably the brightest anime I've watched thus far, emphasizing light, pastel, and upbeat music to juxtapose its characters against their lonely land of Tokyo, which once again was drawn so realistically yet naturally. Anime never ceases to amaze me with its detail, and Bubble is just another proof.

The film uses all the supplies they have to translate its story into an audiovisual medium. But despite the frustration of drawing and editing and all that jazz, they never forgot its fundamental property: its story. Against all the obvious downsides Bubble has, being a very meticulously-crafted moving painting, the film touched my heart on a personal level. Iconic filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami once admitted he liked films that put him to sleep for it allows him to dream as the filmmaker dreams within their film. I recalled falling asleep thrice in Bubble, but it wasn't boring; it was just dreamy. And when the film's iconic tunes play, it wakes me up with a jolt.

Bubble takes Your Name's interstellar background and puts it upon Hibiki, a cute teenager who is hinted to be on the autism spectrum, as I am. This disorder allows him to hear a specific eight-note tune that lies beneath the cosmic anomaly, which was the epicenter of the years-ago disaster. I slightly smiled at how relatable Hibiki is to me, and how amazing the representation of autism is, regardless of whether writer Gen Urobuchi intended it. He is in a very sociable peer group, but also has his own moments of tranquility. When he performs an action, the film becomes astounding, because of all that artistic fuel accumulated during its silent, transcendental scenes.

Bubble is an intensely feel-good film, but there are times when it proves it isn't. I don't see a film that just is there for fan service, I see a film that reshapes our thoughts on a post-apocalyptic world. Its contemplative nature helps put us into the dying Tokyo, experiencing every leap, every walk, every talk, every breath taken. The brightness of the Sun is awe-inducing yet ironic as well, and that's what makes the film gripping. It stems from a very creative thought, penned well. Sometimes it has bad handwriting and I felt a momentary but immense disappointment, but it gradually faded away with its greatness.

In a way, it takes us outside our homes and experiences the beauty around us, even if it is rigidly set in Japan and is an animated film. Because when I see the world Bubble is set in, I feel the whole world. I feel a sense of diversity within the characters and atmosphere, one which they (and me, at a certain level) were finally able to grasp in the film's splendid finale. The film loves the metaphor of life within circles: they are everywhere around us, and when we die, we too become bubbles for people to be reminded of the significance of our lives. Take Hibiki, for example... but also, take everyone. Take all of us. We need it once in our lives, to remind us how much we are valued non-verbally.

But if, hypothetically, we never reach Earth back, we may be sucked into another circle. A black hole. Which would lead us to a whole new circle, another Earth, where we would touch upon new lives. Having that thought on Bubble as the credits roll is something I really need in times of sadness and anger. Not only does it help us understand ourselves, but it also helps us see the full picture of ourselves. We are flawed, but we should be, to remain in awe of the universe's perfection.

In Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life (2011), Jessica Chastain's character says: "Unless you love, your life will flash by." Hibiki's life was about to flash by, until he found that bubble. The bubble that gave him love, but also a reflection of his own hidden love. That bubble pops, but it stays in your mind for years, if not forever.

Bubble is available on Netflix.