MIRAI. The Triumph of Childhood Imagination

There are films whose very first images and scenes make us settle more comfortably into our seats, already knowing that we’re about to be enchanted. One such work is Mirai by Mamoru Hosoda, the director of Wolf Children and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. And, without taking anything away from the master Hayao Miyazaki, Hosoda doesn’t need ancient spirits, magical realms, enchanted creatures, or machines to tell a fascinating, deeply sentimental, and emotional story. He achieves this with simple means—by presenting a tale of an ordinary family, placing at its center a five-year-old boy with a remarkable temperament and a vivid, boundless imagination.

And this is where Mirai‘s greatest strength lies—in its simplicity and subtlety, beneath which unfolds a story as extraordinary and moving as Kun’s own imagination suggests. Kun is a lively, somewhat moody five-year-old whose carefree life as an only child is suddenly disrupted. One day, his parents return home with Mirai—a newborn baby sister who instantly becomes the center of attention. Much to his parents’ surprise, Kun does not welcome the new family member, who has suddenly claimed all of their affection. Openly frustrated and jealous, Kun does everything he can to reclaim his rightful place at the top of the family hierarchy. It’s not hard to imagine what a spoiled child, suddenly pushed out of the spotlight, might do.

This painful shift into the background becomes the starting point for Hosoda’s story, which soon moves into a mysterious garden. There, the boy discovers a portal to different worlds and time planes, fueled by his endless childlike imagination. These journeys allow him to delve into his family’s history, leading to extraordinary encounters with figures from the family album. He also meets a teenage version of Mirai from the future. The Japanese director manages to capture on screen the magic of how a child perceives the world. Mirai is a true celebration of childhood imagination.

The director praises it, marvels at it, and expresses admiration for the kinds of stories that can emerge from the mind of a small child—especially one grappling for the first time with unfamiliar emotions and doubts. Hosoda himself wasn’t a stranger to this experience. He based the character of Kun on observations of his own older son. As a result, the film feels imbued with realism and authenticity, portraying the sometimes annoying and spoiled Kun with paternal sensitivity and love. The entire film comes across as a sincere portrait of a boy’s emotional maturation—his journey to prepare for the arrival of his sister by confronting many internal fears and insecurities. While childhood jealousy might seem a trivial subject, by giving voice to the youngest, Hosoda crafts a story that is anything but banal.

While Kun’s parents only see a sullen child wandering the house, the audience witnesses adventures that will forever change the boy’s view of his family and its members. With colorful metaphors and symbols beautifully rendered through meticulous animation, Hosoda succeeds in translating the magic of a child’s perspective into cinematic language. But Mirai is not only about Kun. Although the five-year-old clearly takes center stage, the director also explores how Mirai’s presence affects the entire household.

The father must face the challenges of parenthood, while the mother strives to balance work with being a patient and caring parent. The filmmaker sincerely depicts the journey not just toward becoming a better older brother, but also better parents. While Hosoda acknowledges this is a difficult task, he shows how much beauty and fulfillment it holds. This makes the film highly universal.

Because the situations it focuses on are familiar to almost everyone, it’s impossible not to relate to the characters—especially Kun, reawakening that sensitive, troublesome child we all once were. Still, not everything in Mirai works as it should. The film lacks a clearly defined narrative arc for viewers to follow. Instead, Hosoda chose to divide the animation into separate chapters—short vignettes portraying Kun’s adjustment to his new reality. At times, it feels like watching consecutive episodes of a miniseries rather than a feature film.

This fragmented structure makes it harder to fully immerse oneself in the stories being told. Although this has its advantages—like time jumps that let us see the characters grow—the film occasionally loses its flow, making it feel somewhat clunky to watch. Though Mirai is a unique work, especially due to its strong ties to Japanese history and culture and its occasional moralizing tone, it is undoubtedly a film worth attention. Beneath its simple—perhaps even banal—story lies a rich emotional core, striking powerful chords. This Japanese animation will remain a film that speaks about family relationships and childhood sensitivity with honesty, understanding, and a great deal of humor. It’s a work that, though primarily aimed at younger viewers, will also move and captivate older, more mature audiences.