You can all likely guess what took the top spot, but did you know other good films also came out last year?
How did we choose our recs?
Participating staff members can nominate up to three titles and can also co-sign other nominated films. Rather than categorizing titles as “feminist-friendly” or “problematic,” they are simply listed in alphabetical order with relevant content warnings; doing otherwise ran the risk of folks seeing these staff recommendations as rubber stamps of unilateral “Feminist Approval,” which is something we try our hardest to avoid here.
The titles below are organized alphabetically. Because licensing and distribution processes often takes longer for films than television series, we’ve demarcated a film’s “year” by the date of its English-language release–in other words, the year that we would’ve had access to it. Likewise, because films are harder to access reliably than TV series, note that a title’s lack of inclusion here might not mean we hated it, but that no one on staff was able to view it prior to publishing. We’ll work on ironing out any issues going forward and possibly looking back at films of previous years, so now more than ever we welcome your feedback.
Here’s what the team thought—let us know your picks in the comments!

Look Back
Recommended By: Caitlin, Dee, Peter, Tony, Vrai
What’s it about? Fujino coasts on the popularity she gets from drawing the gag comics for her elementary school’s newspaper, until the newly contributed comics from truant student Kyomoto shatter her self-confidence. But when their paths cross, Kyomoto calls Fujino her inspiration, and their artistic journeys become intertwined.
Content Warning:Click for Spoilers
Mass killing and specific references to the KyoAni arson
Look Back is an easy work to accidentally oversell, I think. Not because it isn’t good—it’s great, in fact, and clearly made with buckets of passion from the adaptational team—but because it touches on many Big Feelings while ultimately being a rather small and personal story. Everything I try to write about it yearns to begin with an “I” statement, and yet it has multiple facets of connection for anyone who’s ever made art: Fujino’s disillusionment when she realizes she’s a big fish in a small pond, or Kyomoto’s embrace of art to assuage the loneliness and isolation of a debilitating anxiety disorder; the drudgery creation often entails and the high of being well-received; the drive to improve oneself and the simultaneous fear and frustration of hitting a wall. Anyone can understand these issues in concept, and the writing sells them well as character beats, but I suspect there’s a bit of divide between folks who can appreciate the film and people who will feel it hit them like Truck-kun at high speed.
Fujino and Kyomoto’s friendship is beautifully rendered, a fantastic portrait of the intense emotional intimacy that can come from connecting over a shared passion. You could, I think, read romantic subtext into it, but both the narrative and characters are so tightly focused on the world of art that it joins the many layers of “what if,” and the things one gives up to chase a passion that not only can but demands to be all-consuming. It’s incredible how much is conveyed without words, from the flourishes of the period setting to the petty grievances and joys of long hours spent together.
The film also asks a question that feels ever more relevant: in a world full of nightmarish atrocities and senseless tragedies, what’s the point of art? It’s something I see artists and creators of all stripes struggling with these days, myself very much included. In that light, maybe it’s a little self-serving of me to take comfort in Look Back’s answer—that art can transform a person’s world, give them a reason to live, and give them the means to connect to another person when everything seems hopeless. Maybe, but it doesn’t make the story less affecting, tied as the writing is to an attempt to process real-world events. In the end, art isn’t the object itself but the feelings and relationships it creates–I highly recommend giving a listen/read to our discussion from last year about the film’s themes for more. For now, I just keep thinking that it’s important to hold onto that idea on days where it seems pointless to go on.
—Vrai

Maboroshi
Recommended By: Vrai
What’s it about? In the winter of 1991, steel town Mifuse’s central factory exploded; that night, massive cracks appeared in the sky only to be swallowed up by smoke, and since then the town has been frozen in time. 14-year-old Kikuri Masamune wiles these frozen days away with friends, until his classmate Sagami Mutsumi shows him a feral girl hidden away in the factory, seemingly unaffected by time’s stagnation.
Content Warning: nonsexualized nudity (bathing); one scene bordering on sexualizing a child in a teenage body
Readers, I have long pledged that if Okada Mari is back on her bullshit, I will be there. And boy, does Maboroshi check just about every box: a stagnating small town, simultaneous feelings of isolation and suffocating closeness, the utter anguish of middle school, complicated mother/child relationships, and teenage girls having a bad time. It’s been a particular joy watching Okada branch into more original work and gain confidence as a director, because while her work is undeniably messy, it’s also unabashedly itself in a way women creators are rarely allowed to be.
The romance, to be clear, is the least interesting facet of this romance movie. It’s not really perfunctory, as much of the plot turns on the central relationship, but it’s Mutsumi and Masamune are much more interesting when they struggle with their respective individual struggles than when they circle each other and muse on how love is an all-consuming pain. It’s very realistic to the age, in fairness, and there’s a certain tongue-in-cheek touch to it at points, but Okada’s work lives so deep in the paint of its melodrama that it can be hard to tell where it’s marrying commitment and camp and where it’s just parroting the extremely weird way that mass media frames heterosexual desire.
Familial relationships are where the film really shines, giving the story some underplayed and necessary breathing room. Mutsumi simultaneously feels resentful at being placed into the role of “mother” by the adult men around her and pulled to protect the vulnerable child in her care; Masamune’s twin father and uncle seemingly fall into neat “absent” and “responsible” roles, only for those designations to increasingly blur; and much prodding is done about spousal versus parental love. A parent’s duty to love and protect their child is never in question—but, Okada asks, are parents (and especially mothers) not allowed to have a part of themselves that is a stranger to their children?
As always, there are some Weird Bits, though they’re confined to the implications of throwaway lines. Mutsumi notes that her cult leader stepfather married her mother for an heir because he “doesn’t like women,” which is a little vague as to whether he’s gay or misogynistic (there’s evidence for both); he’s at least a somewhat sympathetic figure and far from the only adult making awful choices. Another line later suggests feral child Itsumi “fell in love” with her de facto father figure Masamune (though nothing comes of it, and it can also be read as speculation).
Maboroshi isn’t as strong an outing as either Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms or O Maidens in Your Savage Season, but it’s a compelling meditation on generational divides, the compulsion to regress in dire circumstances, and tenacity against apparent hopelessness. It struck a powerful chord with me as someone who grew up in an isolated town whose fortunes are dictated by boom and bust cycles, even though its setting is halfway around the world. Never stop doing your thing, Okada-sensei. But maybe try writing a queer character who’s not just sympathetic but in a happy relationship for a change. I believe in you.
—Vrai

Mononoke the Movie: Phantom in the Rain
Recommended By: Lizzie
What’s it about? Asa and Kame are two servant girls working in the imperial Ooku (harem) in the hopes of moving up the social ladder. They quickly discover the competitive and sinister nature of the harem, but the sudden appearance of a mysterious “Medicine Seller” helps them uncover the true suffering of the women living under a patriarchal system.
Content warnings/considerations: Depictions of murder, suicide, body horror, sexual slavery, physical and mental abuse; eye strain
It’s been over a decade since the fantastic anime short called the “Bakeneko” story graced our screens in a Japanese horror anthology called Ayakashi: Samurai Horror Tales, which eventually led to the amazing spin-off series called Mononoke. It’s no wonder it became a cult classic, with its beautiful ukiyo-e style of animation along with an interesting story about the “Medicine Seller” traveling around Japan solving mysteries and exorcising demons. The success for Mononoke is long overdue and hopefully with renewed interest in the movie, it’ll inspire more folks to create plenty of videos and articles examining the deep symbolism and Japanese folklore elements found in the series.
If there’s one aspect that remains memorable from the Mononoke short and series is how deeply it cared about unpacking women’s suffering and revealing their truths in a world that constantly wanted to downplay or hide their abuse. The movie staff of Mononoke cared so deeply about this issue that the original voice actor, Sakurai Takahiro for the Medicine Seller was replaced because he was having an extramarital affair with one of the writers for his radio show. Since the premise of the movie is about exploring the power dynamics that existed in the imperial Ooku, it’s extremely inspiring that the movie staff decided to put their words into action by not accepting his behavior.
I’m happy to report that after all these years, the Mononoke movie still has that spark as to what made it so special years ago. The imperial harem was a brutal place that forced women to compete against each order in the hopes of either gaining prominent jobs or becoming high-ranking concubines. The lord of the harem rarely made an appearance in the movie, but it’s clear that he didn’t need to be present for the patriarchy to fully function in his favor.
It’s hard to imagine any form of women friendships surviving in such a competitive environment, but the movie highlighted how important and life-saving such friendships were for our protagonists, especially in a place that didn’t value women’s bodies and/or autonomy. It’s easy to see how Asa and Kame’s friendship could’ve easily deteriorated since it was obvious that Asa was far more educated than Kame (a commoner), and therefore knew the dangers of living in the harem. In spite of knowing the risks, Asa still tried to help Kame with her workload at the detriment of her own tasks, which could’ve prevented her from obtaining a better job. Their friendship was constantly tested and that’s why it was an absolute delight to watch them become fiercely protective of each other.
Despite singing this movie’s praises, it wasn’t easy to sit through the visual horror of what the women have to go through in order to survive, even at the cost of losing their lives and identities. While the visuals of the movie are vibrant and colorful, the downside is that it can be too distracting, which can make it difficult to read the subtitles and see what is happening on screen. The Medicine Seller himself remains an enigma and mostly drives the plot forward, which might be frustrating for both old and new fans. There are also plenty of characters that were introduced that didn’t get enough screen time, but it’s obvious that they’ll definitely have significant roles later in the trilogy.
You read that right! We are getting a trilogy because believe it or not, the first movie primarily focuses on the servants’ quarters of the harem. The following films will probably focus on the particular struggles of actually being concubines and I’m honestly just happy we are getting more Mononoke content. If you already liked the original short and series, then this is an easy recommendation; if you are a curious new fan, the movie is made for newcomers, so with that in mind, I sincerely hope you check it out. I promise, it’s worth your time and hopefully it inspires you to check out the “Bakeneko” story and the spin-off series.
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