Napping Princess | Little White Lies

Nap­ping Princess

13 Aug 2017 / Released: 18 Aug 2017

Anime-style illustration featuring a young woman in a school uniform, standing with a plush toy. Two male characters, one on a scooter, in the background. Vibrant colours and a suspension bridge in the sky.
Anime-style illustration featuring a young woman in a school uniform, standing with a plush toy. Two male characters, one on a scooter, in the background. Vibrant colours and a suspension bridge in the sky.
3

Anticipation.

You can’t argue with Kenji Kamiyama’s resume.

3

Enjoyment.

An ambitious and polished adventure with some intriguing themes, but things get a little muddled.

2

In Retrospect.

Fades quickly from the memory like a pleasant, diverting dream.

This enter­tain­ing ani­mat­ed adven­ture imag­ines a near-future pow­ered by machines.

Kokone Morikawa isn’t a princess, but boy does she nap. She’s sup­posed to be cram­ming for her col­lege entrance exams, but she just can’t seem to stay awake. Asleep, she dreams of a fan­ta­sy realm called Heart­land, where its cit­i­zens all put in time on a huge pro­duc­tion line, man­u­fac­tur­ing cars from day to night. There’s a stub­born king, his sor­cer­ess daugh­ter, and a threat on the hori­zon: a dread­ed colos­sus that endan­gers all who call Heart­land home.

Mean­while, in the wak­ing world, it’s less than a week until the 2020 Sum­mer Olympics in Tokyo, and Kokone’s dad, a gift­ed mechan­ic, becomes embroiled in shady cor­po­rate shenani­gans with his for­mer employ­ers. As Kokone sets out to help her father, and her dreams become more vivid, she starts to won­der… Are the two worlds connected?

Writer/​director Ken­ji Kamiya­ma made his name with the epic ani­mé series Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Com­plex and Eden of the East, but Nap­ping Princess is a con­scious attempt at appeal­ing to a younger-skew­ing audi­ence. There’s not one, but two cute com­pan­ions (a stuffed toy inher­it­ed from her deceased moth­er, a Bay­max-like AI-pow­ered Trans­former-motor­bike invent­ed by her dad) along for the ride. There’s also an endear­ing fam­i­ly his­to­ry con­fi­dent­ly woven into this gor­geous­ly-drawn inter-dimen­sion­al fan­ta­sy-adven­ture, but it’s the film’s alle­gor­i­cal qual­i­ties that are most intriguing.

As the dream and real worlds start to over­lap – and as it is revealed that Kokone’s father and deceased moth­er may have cracked the code for self-dri­ving vehi­cles, piquing the inter­est of cor­po­rate Japan – Kamiya­ma whips up some curi­ous social com­men­tary that ties the fan­tas­ti­cal world to the real one. It’s not every day you see a film that attempts to bridge the gap between air­ship bat­tles and board­room meet­ings, nor is it com­mon to you find your­self lost in a bewil­der­ing third act of ani­mat­ed spec­ta­cle, mild per­il and bor­der­line non­sense, and you think wait, how does this relate to Japan’s fail­ing auto­mo­tive indus­try again?’

Kamiya­ma doesn’t quite have the con­sum­mate cre­ative con­trol of Your Name direc­tor Mako­to Shinkai, so can’t pull off the cin­e­mat­ic acro­bat­ics required to cohere these dis­parate, com­pet­ing, con­fus­ing ele­ments into a sin­gle, effec­tive whole. But, for a time, Nap­ping Princess is an enter­tain­ing, if ulti­mate­ly inessen­tial, ani­mat­ed adventure.

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