Reviews

Deviating from the princess story schematic is dictated by the conclusion and more overtly, the final message. It allows an arbitrary creative process given the central focus remains on the princess to some extent, and Katabuchi exploits this imaginatively. His supremely specific control over the film's fundamental pace is remarkable, but more impressively, the narrative mimics a standstill at the forefront of its momentum. I'm sure most viewers would agree that Arete Hime is generally slow, although whether or not that's advantageous is also at their discretion. I find it immensely necessary as a counterpart to the sequence of events that suddenly transpire in Arete's life, much of which is uncharacteristic of her dull routine of being trapped in a tower. The intermittent excitement shouldn't make us lose sight of her uneventful childhood, subjected to merely dreaming about the outside, and the measured rhythm forces the audience into a subconscious frustration akin to Arete's youth withering away, thus questioning the film's chronological development through accepted indifference.

The framing of Arete Hime is candidly built around independence, and its freeform feminism prioritizes the freedom to choose rather than externally imposing supremacy. Adapted from Diana Coles's 1983 fantasy novella The Clever Princess, Katabuchi alters a great deal of the insinuated perspectives to wholly target Arete's individualism, an appropriate approach for a display of equal standards and respect for intelligence. He uses an intriguing method of circumstantial cause and effect, much of which rightfully has no sense of allotted runtime. This complements the historical period, an era very different from our own, and significantly more culture-centric. Arete as a character is largely subdued, possessing no defining traits that would make her presence the storytelling's driving factor. Contrarily, often the plot is influencing her to lengths she could never imagine, mostly through subtle changes in her attitude. The quiet loneliness present in the screenplay is uncharacteristic for children's films, and as a viewer, I must commend Katabuchi's sheer skill in traversing demographics by capitalizing on what's usually considered low-budget.

In theory, panning a camera is arguably the least dynamic technique that exists, partially because of its massively common usage, but also due to the obvious limitation in consistently engaging the audience. This idea is entirely reversed here, and I'd go further to say it benefits from long-winded movements lingering on a specific moment in different intervals, seamlessly maneuvering around certain scenes in enclosed spaces. Experimenting with angles atop a height and composing a shot through blocking create numerous point-of-view variants in a fixed location. The muted colors amongst picturesque visual design are gorgeous for the painterly artistic choices, paired with a light classical score or silence is the inherent antidramatic effect Arete Hime aims for. A reflective outlook that unhurriedly allows daily life to occur, naturally blossoming symbolism in a less-than-glamorous form of heroism. It implores us to never take freedom for granted, not only empowering women but all those who dare to dream.