Forget
about Egyptian cotton and high thread counts. There are no finer textiles then
the Hibiol cloth woven by the legendary Iolph. They might look like teen aged
girls, but they live through centuries without aging a whisker. The outside world
mistrusts them and the feeling is mutual. However, when a decaying empire tries
to harness their genetic longevity, a (comparatively) young Iolph is thrust
into a world she is destined to outlive in Mari Okada’s anime feature Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York.
As
a Iolph, Maquia is supposed to feel lonely, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
She has resigned herself to a super-long life weaving Hibiol cloth, when the
army of Mesate suddenly invades. The cornerstone of the regime’s power were the
ancient Renato dragons they successful adapted for military purposes, but the last
of the mythical beasts are dying. If the king takes an Iolph as his wife, his
successor should in theory live long and prosper. In the process, Maquia is whisked
away by a wounded Renato, who crashes into the outskirts of a bucolic human
farming community.
Soon
thereafter, Maquia discovers a foundling still locked in its dead mother’s arms.
Her maternal instincts compel her to adopt the infant she will name Erial, even
though she knows she will outlive him by centuries. They spend a few happy
years in that rural community, but eventually they must move on, to avoid
attracting attention to her fantastical nature. She is sort of like John Oldman
in The Man from Earth, but she is
also a mother. Indeed, a great deal of Maquia
addresses just what it means to be a mom, beyond simple biology.
There
is no question Okada set out to make viewers blubber like a baby. This is the
mother of all sainted, sacrificing mother films. Yet, Okada also does some
highly intriguing fantasy world-building. She could set entire films in the
Mesate realm that did not feature Maquia or explore mother-son relationships. Frankly,
she could have doubled the time allotted to the Renatos without trying viewer
patience. Regardless, when she lowers the emotional boom, it leaves a large
indentation.
Visually,
Maquia is also a rich, lush
spectacle. The fantasy architecture is particularly arresting—so much so, we
could easily envision it inspiring builders of the future. Arguably, this is
the best-looking, most exotic-feeling animated film since Big Fish & Begonia, but it is as emotionally direct and
resonant as Bambi.