Suzume Review

Makoto Shinkai’s films always strike me first with their visuals, and Suzume was no exception. From the opening scenes to the final moments, this was a movie that constantly reminded me how powerful animation can be when it is handled with this much care. At first, I saw it as the story of a girl from the countryside who accidentally releases a sealed force in an abandoned ruin, which leads to a disaster involving the giant worm-like presence called Mimizu. Together with Daijin, she travels across Japan trying to stop further destruction. Going in, I assumed it would be another emotionally driven fantasy film in the same broad vein as Your Name and Weathering with You, with beautiful art, supernatural elements, and a coming-of-age journey at its center.

But by the time the movie reached its later half, I realized it was aiming for something much heavier and more meaningful than I first expected. The turning point for me was when the film clearly evoked the memory of the Great East Japan Earthquake, especially with the reference to March 11 written in the diary. That moment changed the way I looked at the entire film. Until then, I had mainly been following Suzume’s journey as an engaging fantasy adventure, but after that, the story felt much more like an act of remembrance. It was no longer just about closing doors and stopping a supernatural disaster. It became a film about grief, trauma, memory, and the emotional scars left behind by a real tragedy. I think that is what makes Suzume more than just a visually impressive disaster fantasy.

One of the strongest aspects of the film was, without question, the animation and music. That part almost goes without saying. The backgrounds were stunning, and even the abandoned places carried a strange, haunting beauty. The sequences involving the doors, the spreading threat, and the looming sense of catastrophe were incredibly immersive. The soundtrack elevated those scenes even further, giving quiet moments a lingering emotional weight and tense moments a much stronger impact. Shinkai’s signature style is still very much present here, but this time it feels less focused on romance and more on loss, healing, and emotional remembrance.

I also enjoyed the structure of the story more than I expected. Since the film follows Suzume as she travels from place to place closing doors, it could have easily felt repetitive, but it rarely did. Each location had a different mood, and the people she met along the way gave the movie warmth and humanity. In that sense, it almost worked like a road movie. What I especially appreciated was how the film kept reminding me that even in a story about disaster, what ultimately helps people endure is kindness, connection, and the support of others.

What stayed with me the most after watching it was the overwhelming sense of human helplessness in the face of natural disasters. The film reminded me that ordinary daily life is far more fragile than we usually like to believe. It also made me think more deeply about the people and places that have suffered from earthquakes and other tragedies. More than anything, I came away with a strong feeling of sadness and sympathy. Suzume does not simply turn disaster into spectacle. It tries to remember, and it asks the audience to remember as well.

That said, I did not think the film was flawless. There were moments when the pacing felt a little rushed, and some parts of the story seemed to rely more on emotional momentum than tightly grounded logic. Because of that, I would not personally call it a masterpiece on the level of a perfect 10. Still, I think it is undeniably a worthwhile film. Its visual beauty is outstanding, its music is excellent, and the emotional message at its core is deeper than it may first appear.

If I had to rate it, I would give it a 7 out of 10. It may not be my favorite Makoto Shinkai film, but it is definitely one that left me with a lot to think about after it ended. I would recommend it not only to fans of his visual style, but also to anyone interested in stories about disaster, loss, and the slow process of emotional healing.