Sure, here is a complete thought about "My Blood and Bones in a Flowing Galaxy" (2020 movie) in around 600 words:
"My Blood and Bones in a Flowing Galaxy," released in 2020, offers a poignant and visually rich exploration of adolescent angst, the weight of generational trauma, and the arduous journey toward self-acceptance, all set against the evocative backdrop of a small, seemingly idyllic Japanese town. The film, directed by Yuki Tanada and based on the novel by Yoru Sumino, masterfully weaves together themes of identity, belonging, and the often-unseen struggles that shape our formative years.
At its core, the movie is a character study of Kiyozumi Hamada, a high school student burdened by an acute awareness of his own perceived "ugliness" and an overwhelming desire to disappear. This internal struggle is beautifully externalized through the film's title itself - his "blood and bones" representing his tangible, physical existence, and the "flowing galaxy" symbolizing the vast, indifferent universe he wishes to dissolve into. Hamada's self-loathing isn't merely adolescent insecurity; it's a deeply ingrained complex, hinting at a past that has chipped away at his self-worth.
The narrative gains significant depth with the introduction of Eri Chiba, a vibrant and seemingly eccentric classmate who claims to be an alien. Chiba acts as a catalyst for Hamada, pulling him out of his self-imposed isolation. Her fantastical claims, while initially perplexing, serve as a metaphor for the alienation and otherness that both characters feel. Chiba's unwavering belief in her extraterrestrial origins, even if a coping mechanism, provides her with a unique lens through which to view the world, often challenging Hamada's cynical perspective. Their burgeoning friendship is the emotional anchor of the film, a delicate dance between two souls grappling with their own forms of brokenness.
Beyond their individual struggles, the film delves into the pervasive impact of inherited pain. We gradually learn about the deep-seated issues within Hamada's family, particularly concerning his mother, who suffers from a mental illness that has cast a long shadow over his childhood. This generational trauma is not explicitly dramatized through intense flashbacks but subtly revealed through Hamada's actions, his anxieties, and the quiet despair that permeates his home life. The film suggests that while wounds may not always be visible, their scars can profoundly influence one's perception of self and the world.
Visually, "My Blood and Bones in a Flowing Galaxy" is stunning. The cinematography captures the beauty of the Japanese countryside, juxtaposing it with the characters' inner turmoil. The "flowing galaxy" of the title isn't just a metaphor; it's often hinted at through ethereal lighting, a sense of vastness in the landscape, and moments where the mundane seems to transcend into the cosmic. This visual language amplifies the film's themes, making the characters' emotional journeys feel both intensely personal and universally resonant.
The film's strength lies in its nuanced portrayal of mental health and self-discovery. It avoids simplistic solutions or dramatic interventions. Instead, it emphasizes the slow, often painful process of coming to terms with one's past and present. Chiba, despite her seemingly whimsical nature, offers Hamada not a cure, but companionship and a different perspective. She helps him see that his "ugliness" is subjective and that true beauty lies in embracing one's authentic self, flaws and all.
In conclusion, "My Blood and Bones in a Flowing Galaxy" is a deeply affecting film that resonates long after the credits roll. It's a sensitive portrayal of two young individuals finding solace and understanding in each other amidst their personal battles. The movie serves as a powerful reminder that even in the vastness of a "flowing galaxy," human connection, empathy, and the courage to confront one's inner demons are what truly allow us to find our place and shine. It's a thoughtful meditation on the quiet heroism of everyday existence and the profound beauty that can emerge from vulnerability.
