Benutzerrezensionen

This is a very peaceful movie. You will not know when it will end. The scenes are very beautiful. It is one of my favourite animations.

I hadn't seen any trailers or heard anything about this movie before watching it. I simply had a lot of nieces who liked cats and this looked like a cute cat movie. The cat on the cover is just ridiculously cute, with its big cat eyes, how could I resist picking it?

For the first 7 minutes of the film it follows basically how I imagined the story to go. Hei is a cat that lives in the forest, until the evil monster known as "man" comes and destroys it. Hei must then find a new home in the city. Hijinks ensue as he and his smaller hairball companion ( I never did figure out what it was supposed to be) search for food and shelter. Now, if you want to watch the movie as ignorant as possible stop reading now and just be surprised by the craziness which follows. But, since part of a review is to give the reader some idea of what the movie is like, I will explain the premise.

As some bully kids decide to torment the cat, Hei transforms into a giant cat beast. Before Hei can get vengeance on the kids, they are instead picked off by phantom tree branches. These tree branches are being controlled by some kind of tree bending spirit. A number of spirits then join in and sweep Hei off to a hideout in the woods. Hei transforms into a cat boy hybrid. The hideout is then invaded by a metal bending "enforcer" who captures Hei and plans to take him to the realm of spirits...That all happens in about 6 minutes of screentime. I had no idea what kind of movie I was getting into

Once I adjusted to the tonal whiplash of the opening, I did find myself enjoying the film. Safe to say that I never knew what to expect going forward, so it always kept me on my toes. The movie is (mostly) very well animated and incredibly creative. I found myself very swept up in the drama of it. Certain action scenes towards the end had me at the edge of my seat.

On the negative side, the main enforcer, named "Infinity", is really dull. He speaks all his lines in the same monotone whisper, trying to convey the air of a tough stoic Samurai. Other main characters are also pretty bland and forgettable.

Not to mention, this film is crazy. Throughout the finale the rules of this world are put into question. It concludes in a confusing way, taking advantage of some obscure loophole in the lore that wasn't really explained. And there are times where the animators were just wanting to take a break, so they will linger on a still frame for nearly a minute.

But, if you find yourself in the mood for some craziness, this may be the film for you. It has some crazy over the top action scenes and keeps you guessing where it's going to go up to the very end. I didn't understand all of it, but it certainly left an impression on me.

This is a big effort in 2D animation for China, trying very hard to deliver a product that could be at the same time exciting and profound and that has the look of a blockbuster Japanese Anime, more specifically the Studio Ghibli ones. And the end result manages to work in some occasions and to look quite the part, but still suffers from some pacing problems and a lack of emotional focus at times. Also, the way the story develops ends up being quite conventional, but for the most part it's an enjoyable film.

It's quite unexpected to see this IP for the first time. Xiaohei's role design is very unique, and the environment breaks the boundary between regional years and generations. Many scenes are unrestrained. This is the quality that a good Guoman should have, leading the audience to constantly expand the boundary of imagination. On the whole, it follows the route of "soft sprout + Chinese style", and the in-depth discussion is the theme of trust, growth and self breakthrough. In life, you may also encounter the situation of wandering among people like infinity and wind to find a sense of belonging. When you can really distinguish right from wrong, that is, the moment of real growth. We need subversive animation like Nezha and warm animation like "Luo Xiaohei".

Dating back to 2011, the mysterious independent producer MTJJ created the character of Luo Xiao-Hei and animated TV series as well. With stick figure style yet marvelous storyline and profound worldview, the series captured millions of viewers and considered to be the shining star of domestic animation. Though facing difficulties of fund and staff shortages, MTJJ never gave up and keep on serializing to 28 short episodes, about 2 hours in total, till this day with the help of a team consists of few people. That's why the 100 mins long 2D animated film with the same name set off a fan carnival this summer. Not only the smooth painting style can be compared to world famous Studio Ghibli and Kyoto Animation, the intimate growing up tale also touched the innermost feelings of audiences, let along Easter eggs hidden everywhere and homage paying to classics. Last but not least, the film portraits a true Chinese style atmosphere with a glimpse of ancient and modern China together. The movie do have a relatively slow pacing of daily life stories In the first half which may cause some audience fell a little bit dull. Whatever the flaws, it still resembles a milestone of modern day 2D Chinese animated films

A friend said, "This one needs a second watch to sink in"-and they were right. It wasn't until my second viewing that I noticed the little things: the way Wu Xian's eyes soften, almost imperceptibly, over the course of the film.

At first, his gaze is cool, guarded-like someone who's learned to keep the world at arm's length. But as the story unfolds, frame by frame, it shifts. There's a moment when Xiao Hei stumbles, and Wu Xian's eyes flicker with concern before he can mask it. Later, when the youngster laughs, Wu Xian's stare lingers, warm and unguarded, like ice thawing.

These are the details that make the film special. They're not flashy or loud; they're the kind of beauty that demands you slow down. In a world that rushes to highlight "big moments," The Legend of Hei trusts you to notice the quiet ones-the softening of a gaze, the unspoken care. And once you do, you realize: that's where the real magic lives.

When Air China's entertainment system suggested this to me, I had no idea of what this was about - but I was immediately captivated, as it looks like a Ghibli movie, only not from Ghibli but from unknown Chinese animators. So I watched it in Chinese (even if I don't understand it) and I liked it so much that as soon as I got home I started to search for the web animation series from which the characters are taken.

The drawing style is deceptively simple, but the backgrounds and scenery in the first half are nothing short of wonderful. They recreate that magical atmosphere of a lost natural world that you may remember from Mononoke Hime or Totoro, with the movie being a bit of both - a peaceful and funny (lots of gags!) growth experience for a young, exhuberant demon-cat-kid, but also the tale of the clash between nature and mankind. (Since young and self-confident China is not old and weary Japan, though, the moral angle on this will end up slightly differently...) But what is really outstanding is the characterization of the protagonist, in terms of story and in terms of animation. It is very well done, and you will really root for Xiaohei as the character grows in several dimensions.

The final part is IMHO a bit less convincing and not so Ghibli-esque, as it focuses on solving the conflict that has been building up throughout the movie, and at times becomes more like a superhero fight sequence. However, in the overall this is a really good animation movie and if a Western edition comes out you should definitely not miss it; in the meantime, you can look for it online, and even the unsubtitled Chinese version will do (there is not a lot of dialogue and you can figure out the story quite easily without it).

I watched The Legend of Hei after endless recommendations-and as someone used to nonstop action, the first half tested me. "This is too slow," I thought, itching for a big twist. Then it happened: Xiao Hei, after all the quiet awkwardness, smiled at Wu Xian. Not a grin, just a small, unguarded lift of the lips. And suddenly, the "slowness" made sense.

That smile wasn't just a moment-it was a bridge, built by every tentative step before it: the shared meals, the silent walks, Wu Xian's soft "Take your time." The film doesn't rush because trust can't be rushed. By the time that smile came, I didn't just see it-I felt it, earned through patience.

Now I get it: some stories don't sprint. They walk with you, letting feelings settle like roots. And when the payoff comes? It's worth every quiet second.

Already made it to my Top 10 Fav Anime List for sure! What an AMAZING world to be immersed in! Turn up those speakers too because the sound is super sweet. SO powerful. You can literally FEEL the artists' creative intent especially with the INTENSE battle scenes, camera angle shifts, and the SPEED. WOW! Seriously buying this movie in HDX on VUDU right NOW. Unforgettable movie.

I was dragged into watching this, and what stuck with me most is how it avoids shouting about differences. No "our way is right" speeches, no judgment of other paths-just a quiet showcase of "this works, too." The Spirit Hall isn't framed as "the perfect community." It's messy: spirits argue over chores, elders make mistakes, Xiao Hei stumbles in his new role. But the film presents it without fanfare, as simply... a way of being. A Japanese viewer noted, "It doesn't say 'be like us'-it says 'this is us, and that's okay.'" That's rare in storytelling, especially cross-cultural tales. So many works highlight "unique traits" as a flex, but here, the lack of emphasis on "difference" becomes its strength. It's not about proving one way is better-it's about showing that many ways can be good.

In the end, that's the film's greatest lesson: inclusivity isn't about celebrating differences loudly. It's about letting them exist, softly and unapologetically. And that's a message the whole world could use.

I was absolutely amazed by the quality of this movie. The story is touching and really funny, and the battles are spectacular. Must watch! Especially for fans of the Avatar: the last Airbender series, who are looking for a similar experience.

I lost count of how many times I've looped The Legend of Hei while waiting for the sequel. Somewhere around the sixth rewatch I stopped pausing for the sakuga and started pausing for the stillness: the five-minute epilogue where the Monster Lodge simply sits around a low kotatsu, trading gossip that's too quiet for subtitles. No fireworks, no victory chant, not even a collective toast. Just steam from a shared kettle and the soft clack of mismatched mugs. In a genre addicted to confetti cannons, this deliberate smallness is the moment that refuses to leave my head.

The scene opens on debris: splintered roof beams, a dented espresso machine, a single dumpling that rolled under the counter during the siege. Then the camera tilts up to reveal the survivors already in motion-not rebuilding, not speechifying, but reclaiming the ordinary. The tanuki landlord fishes the stray dumpling out with chopsticks, blows off the dust, pops it in his mouth, and immediately complains about the filling being too salty. Nobody laughs on cue; they just exhale the way you do when your friend finally tastes the soup and confirms it's edible. It's less "celebration" and more "collective sigh of relief that dinner is still possible." What makes the sequence memorable is how it refuses to announce its own significance. The frog waitress keeps refilling cups without asking who wants more; the hedgehog barista keeps trying to recalibrate the espresso pressure and failing, loudly; Xiaolian's water droplets hover like lazy fireflies above the kettle lid. These aren't scripted beats for emotional payoff-they're background tics that suddenly feel sacred because we've watched them survive an apocalypse. The film understands that the most honest victory lap isn't a lap at all; it's the moment you remember your daily rituals still fit in the rubble.

Even the seating arrangement tells a story. Xiaohei wedges himself between the tanuki's bulk and the frog's elbow, exactly where a stray cat would squeeze in real life-close enough for warmth, far enough to bolt. Nobody scoots over to make a big show of welcome; the circle simply widens by the width of one small cat, as organically as a tide adjusting to a rock. The camera stays wide enough to keep everyone in the frame, but never pushes for the hero close-up. The message is subliminal: belonging isn't declared; it's accommodated.

Sound design does the rest. There's no orchestral swell, just the soft gurgle of boiling water and the occasional metallic wheeze of the espresso machine refusing to die. Every clink of ceramic feels like proof that the universe still has a reset button. When the frog finally mutters, "Tomorrow we fix the roof," it lands with the weight of a coronation speech because it's spoken around half-eaten pickles and a cracked teapot. The mundane becomes monumental simply by continuing.

In a landscape where climaxes are measured in decibels and confetti budgets, The Legend of Hei dares to end on a whisper. It tells us that the truest celebration isn't the cheer-it's the chatter that starts the moment the danger stops being interesting. Give me that Tuesday-night tranquility over any pyrotechnic encore; it's the scene I rewind not because it's loud, but because it's already tomorrow, and the kettle's still on.

I am definitely NOT the target audience for this... The Legend of Hei, released in China as The Legend of Luo Xiaohei, is an animated movie released in Summer 2019 and it was made as a prequel to the cartoon show, The Legend of Luo Xiaohei. So, if you are a fan of the series, the movie details various events in the life of Luo Xiaohei before everything happening there.

Too many characters doing too many things at too many places. I would expect that 10 to 12 year old kids who are into this type of animation would enjoy this - for the most of the other like me, much older, a snooze would be an appropriate response.

I was pulled into The Legend of Hei by a friend-not expecting much-but came out quietly moved. What struck me first was how the "elders" in this film carry authority without dominance. Wuxian, a powerful figure, doesn't tower over the younger or weaker ones. He literally kneels down to talk to the little spirits, listens to their opinions, and sometimes even follows their advice. That kind of respectful power-authority without oppression-is something you rarely see in animated storytelling, or anywhere really. It feels... safe, and deeply humane.

On a structural level, this film leans into what cross-cultural psychology would call a "long-term orientation"-favoring reflection over resolution, process over payoff. Yes, the pace is slow, and yes, there isn't a dramatic climax every five minutes. But in that quiet pacing, the film gives you room to breathe. To think. To feel. The nature scenes aren't just beautiful-they gently pull you into the world and slow your own mental clock. It's a rare kind of narrative rhythm: one that trusts the viewer to stay, to listen, to grow with the story.

The conflict isn't resolved by a "win" or "defeat"-it ends in reconciliation. Not in spectacle, but in understanding. This makes the film linger long after the credits. The more you sit with it, the more layers you notice. It's not about thrilling you-it's about letting you settle into something deeper.

I'll admit: at first, I found the pacing too slow, too quiet. But by the halfway mark, I realized I had adapted. The story doesn't drag-it flows like a stream, gently shifting your attention from character to world to theme. Unlike Hollywood's obsession with urgency, The Legend of Hei is confident enough to be still.

If you're open to something less explosive, more meditative-this film offers rare narrative patience and emotional honesty. It's not trying to impress you. It's trying to reach you. And for me, it did.

At the beginning, I always thought that the rise of Guoman meant the picture rather than the plot, but now I know what the real rise of Guoman is. Just this plot, picture, clip and soundtrack have reached the world level. Unexpectedly, douban'er fell from 9.0 to 8.2! It's a pity that the film didn't show in America, otherwise it would have won the Oscar.

A friend said, "The emotions here are universal"-and from the first frame, that rings true. Xiao Hei's wronged pout when misunderstood, the way his eyes light up with unguarded joy over a shared meal, the quiet glow of belonging when he finally says "I want to stay"-these aren't "Chinese feelings" or "foreign feelings." They're just... feelings.

You don't need cultural context to recognize that tightness in your chest when Xiao Hei is chased from his forest home, that lift in your heart when Wu Xian offers him a hand, that warmth when the Spirit Hall greets him like he's always been there. A Japanese classmate mentioned she teared up at his first real smile; my American cousin, who rarely cries at movies, admitted he felt a lump in his throat during that final scene.

That's the film's superpower: it doesn't translate emotions-it lives them. And in living them, it reminds us how little divides us. Whether your first language is Mandarin, Spanish, or Swahili, "being seen" feels the same. The Legend of Hei gets that. And that's why it doesn't just tell a story-it connects us to it.

If you have seen the TV version of this film, you will get confused by the birth of Hei. The film is here to introduce it.

In my opnion, the film is special. It pays more attention to audience exprience. In the film, the perspective follows Hei. We can feel the emotional change of Hei.

What's more, the film brings us to think about ethics. It is not only a storyline, but also a intro into the thinking of right and wrong. Each character is not completely right or wrong. Everything is judged by the audience.

The shortcoming of the film is that it is not very friendly to a western audience. As an asian audience, he or she can understand the film quite well. But as to western audience, he or she may have to know more background about asian culture.

More, I strongly recommend you to watch the TV version, which is now free of charge. If you do so, you would have a brand new view of all characters.

Rewatching, it's clear why "comfortable" and "natural" flood audience comments-this film moves like a quiet breeze, never forcing connection but making it inevitable. No clunky cultural signposts, no strained attempts to "explain" itself to foreign viewers. It just is: Xiao Hei's shy grins, the Spirit Hall's chaotic warmth, Wu Xian's unrushed guidance.

A Chinese viewer calls it "like slipping into a well-worn sweater"; an American fan describes it as "easy to get lost in." That shared ease isn't accidental. The film doesn't shout "look how we bridge cultures"-it just tells a story so honest, so rooted in human rhythm, that borders blur. When Xiao Hei finds his place, it doesn't feel "Chinese" or "Western"-it feels like coming home, a feeling no subtitle can muddle.

This is cross-cultural communication at its finest: not performative, but organic. By being unapologetically itself, The Legend of Hei becomes something everyone can meet halfway. In a world of forced "relatability," its greatest trick is simply being... comfortable. And that's how stories truly travel.

I have been an ANIME SuperFan since leaving mama's womb LoL but I don't leave many reviews... This movie was absolutely Felinominal!!! 😸 It's almost too cute at the beginning you ll be all OHHHH SO CUDLY 😍 and then the story just grabs you! Magic, Spirits, Powers, Fellings and Felines!

A coming of age story... who's good?... who's bad?... We're left wondering just like Hei.

The journey is like a road trip and the animation is excuisite!

At times reminding me of Naruto and Bleach... Just watch it and you'll be transported as I was... and a few tears may fall it's that Good! Definite 10/10 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

A friend dragged me to The Legend of Hei with the cryptic promise, "The group scenes won't make you cringe." I nodded politely, expecting the usual anime huddle where everyone yells the same word at once and the soundtrack swells like a graduation ceremony. Instead I got the exact energy of my own group chat: constant eye-rolls followed by instant backup the second real danger pings. The film's magic is that it never feels engineered; it just feels lived-in, like neighbors who roast each other's lawn-mowing speed but will still leap the fence to yank the mower out of a pothole.

Take the alley ambush. Acha's vines lunge a beat too slowly, and Chiyan can't resist: "Grandpa, did your sap freeze?" A second later a steel drone arcs toward Chiyan's blind spot; the same vine that was just mocked snaps upward and swats the projectile into next week. The insult and the rescue are delivered in one fluid inhale-no apology, no thank-you, just the unspoken contract that mockery expires the instant someone's tail is on fire.

The pattern repeats inside the Monster Lodge kitchen. The frog waitress complains the hedgehog barista's espresso is "basically burnt mud," then wordlessly slides a second cup across the counter when she sees his paws shaking from over-caffeination. During the siege, the barista returns the favor by flicking hot foam at an incoming drone so the waitress can duck without dropping her tray. Their cooperation is so seamless it looks accidental, the way roommates instinctively pass the salt while arguing about whose turn it is to buy toilet paper.

Even the big, splashy set pieces refuse the usual "power of friendship" choreography. When Infinity's metal tide floods the lobby, nobody forms a circle, nobody shouts "together!" They just keep moving in the same conversational rhythm they used five minutes earlier while bickering over dumplings. Xiaolian's water whip arcs low, not because someone yelled "cover me," but because she knows Chiyan always over-extends to the left. Acha mutters, "Show-off," while simultaneously threading a vine through Xiaolian's loop, anchoring her against the recoil. The dialogue is indistinguishable from breathing.

The film trusts these micro-rituals so completely that it never pauses to underline them. When the dust settles, the frog waitress is still complaining that her soup got cold, the hedgehog is still insisting the foam-to-milk ratio was off, and everyone is already arguing about who broke the floorboard. The argument isn't pettiness-it's proof that the relationship survived the crisis intact. Insults are the adhesive; the rescue is just the default setting underneath.

That's why the final rooftop scene lands with such quiet weight. Xiaohei watches the lodge lights flick back on, one mismatched bulb at a time, and understands he's never going to find a formal induction ceremony. There will only ever be more snark, more shared snacks, and the occasional vine yanking him out of harm's way mid-insult. The collective isn't a slogan; it's a habit-one sarcastic barb followed by one instinctive shield, played on loop until it feels like home.

A friend warned, "Don't expect a tidy victory lap"-and what a relief. The Legend of Hei doesn't end with a villain's dramatic fall or a crowd cheering "we won." Instead, it softens into a quieter truth: Xiao Hei finds a place he wants to stay.

This reconciliation hits harder than any triumph. After the chaos fades, we don't see a world "saved"-we see Xiao Hei lingering in the Spirit Hall, laughing with spirits who once felt like strangers, his scarf tied neat .

He's not conquering his past; he's making peace with it.

That's the film's wisdom. It knows the most satisfying endings aren't about winning. They're about finally, softly, saying, "I'm home." And that lingers longer than any battle cry.

Beautiful backgrounds, but the most undynamic animation I've watched, it feels stiff. Compositions mostly play it safe, even in action sequences. The story didn't have me engaged, and most of the characters didn't show much or any depth. Regardless the drawing skill is amazing, its just everything else is lacking.

Rewatching, I noticed a pattern in audience comments: words like "comfortable" and "natural" pop up more than any other. It makes sense. This film doesn't strain to "bridge cultures"-it just flows, and that ease becomes its greatest strength.

No awkward explanations, no forced nods to "Eastern" or "Western" sensibilities. The Spirit Hall's chaos feels like any lively neighborhood; Xiao Hei's shyness around strangers reads the same in Beijing or Paris; Wu Xian's quiet care translates to "kindness" in every tongue. A Chinese viewer calls it "like coming home"; an American fan describes it as "easy to sink into." Same feeling, different words.

That's the magic of true cross-cultural storytelling: it doesn't try. By focusing on being itself-warm, unrushed, honest-it becomes something everyone can meet halfway. In the end, "comfortable" isn't just a feeling about the movie. It's how the world feels, for a little while, when stories bring us together without even trying.

It was the cutest movie ever and it was funny too. Anyone who didn't like it, you're just weird and something is wrong with you. This is one of the best films I have seen in a long time because most of the movies nowadays are trash. Like there was so many funny scenes and the main character (the little boy) is so adorable especially when he turns into a cat. The plot is also pretty good, I wouldn't have expected it. Overall, I would recommend for a family or little kids to watch this movie. The fights and animation is pretty good very similar to demon slayer if you like to watch pretty movies.