Those of us familiar with the work of Hayao Miyazaki will recognise the formula here: a plucky young girl is separated from her parents, thrust into an unknown world of spirits and monsters, and is forced to find inner strength if she ever wants to get home – as far as anime goes, it’s a tried and true recipe. Yet, despite sticking close to the blueprint made famous by Spirited Away and My Neighbour Totoro, first-time director Yôko Kuno and veteran Nobuhiro Yamashita scatter their own brand of charm, wit, and whimsy through this familiar broth, crafting a film both comfortably well worn, and strikingly fresh. 

The aforementioned girl is Karin (Noa Gotô), who lands on the steps of her grandfather’s temple when her down-and-out dad, Tetsuya (Munetaka Aoki) – a gambling addict and generally flaky father – can’t take care of her. He’ll come back on the anniversary of her mothers death, but in the meantime there isn’t much for a young girl to do in a drafty, mundane temple. That’s until Anzu (Mirai Moriyama), our Totoro-like charm machine and mascot, screeches into her life on his scooter, a walking, talking orange cat who acts like a real-life human, albeit a dysfunctional one. A lot of the initial draw is watching this overgrown, anthropomorphised feline do perfectly ordinary human things, like drive to work, cook food for the family and, of course, get arrested for speeding. 

It’s an engaging start, though an early fear is whether the film has something more up its sleeve – will the gags and shenanigans give way to more solid ground? Thankfully, the answer is yes. We don’t have to wait long to find our emotional core in Karin, whose quest for closure takes center stage, forcing the titular kitty cat to graduate from a charming amusement to an endearing surrogate father figure. The film is quite taken with his slapstick entanglements with local law enforcement, unlikely friendship with a group of wayward kids, and friendly run-ins with a posse of yet more ghost animals (who give a whole new definition to the word kawaii!), but the silliness of these vignettes, like Anzu’s immature, over-the-top antics and childlike worldview, eventually blossom into exactly what Karin needs: a summer of fun. 

Over and above the novelty of an orange cat working as a massage therapist (no, really!) and a life-sized frog and mushroom doing part time shifts as golf caddies, the charm and wonder lie in the animation – it really is something to behold. Despite her limited credits, Kuno’s style is fully formed. From exaggerated human heads that physicalise a character’s nature to backgrounds that shift and change depending on the time of day, her techniques are brimming with imagination and a real sense of confidence. The methods of animation, though, are even more novel. Sharing techniques with The Lord of the Rings (1978) and Loving Vincent, the entire thing was shot in live-action with real actors and sets, then painstakingly rotoscoped to add more life to the animation, warts and all. 

It may not operate on the same level as a Miyazaki classic, but Ghost Cat Anzu doesn’t have to. The film possesses enough charm and genuine warmth that hits The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild levels of coziness. When Anzu befriends a bevy of forest spirits, who he mistakes for a band of mischievous quails, we see just how nurturing this big ball of fur can be. My heart was warmed, my funny bone was tickled. All that’s left is find a cat who specialises in massage therapy.

Ghost Cat Anzu is at The Japan Foundation Touring Film Festival 2025 on Sun 2 Mar 2025 at Dundee Contemporary Arts