Suddenly, into his quiet life some strange new visitors fall. First, a human manifestation of the family dog shows up and reveals that he felt similarly abandoned when Kun was born. Next, his younger sister’s future teenage self arrives and enlists his aid on a minor adventure. One of the charms of Hosoda’s film is that it assumes its protagonist’s childlike point of view, and so doesn’t waste much time questioning these magical travelers: This girl is Mirai visiting from the future because of course she is.
With the doors of perception now opened a mite wider, little Kun finds himself sporadically traveling through time and witnessing some of his family’s ordeals, from the seismic to the minute. And slowly, this tyke, his understanding limited but his vision seemingly infinite, starts to feel a gathering existential unease.
Fluctuating between the minor daily occurrences of Kun’s life and his touching sojourns into the past and the future, Hosoda’s film privileges moments of emotion over belabored story mechanics. Thus, it gathers complexity without sacrificing any of its guileless modesty. In the best possible way, “Mirai” feels like the dream of a very wise child.
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‘Mirai’
Rated PG for jealous older brothers and mild ontological unease. In Japanese, with English subtitles.
Running time: 1 hour 38 minutes.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.