from a series where characters shout their emotions and character beats explode in an earnest explosion of color comes a film that doubles down on its unashamed sincerity, pulling at heartstrings with the force of a clenched fist.
it's a movie that is very plainly about moving forward, a movie where your past nor your bonds restrict you, but strengthen you, a movie where the purest of selfless willpower can go toe to toe with the darkest of selfishness.
this movie is NOT subtle, it does NOT have any big insightful ideas, and it is NOT concerned with trying to push any real envelopes. it runs with the most basic and most crowd-pleasing characterizations/motivations, and it just soars in the process.
i loved the parallels that ran through the movie. from the getgo i knew the setting of a speed train would inform/reflect the film's thematic ambitions, but i never would i have expected the film to double down on them in such an effective way. that surprise stems mostly from the excellent portrayal of our protagonist Tanjiro's senpai of Rengoku.
in Rengoku, a character we are just starting to know, we see an ideal. as the sun rises to vanquish the scourge of demons, Rengoku's seemingly unstoppable willpower and desire to protect the wellbeing of others is an absolute. he is Tanjiro's ideal. he has Tanjiro's heart and purity, but possesses strength that dwarfs Tanjiro's.
essentially, he is Superman, and Tanjiro is a Superman-to-be. ironclad in their convictions, perfect and pure and static in character.
what makes the last third of the film so powerful is most of the film is dedicated to Tanjiro reaffirming his belief that forward is the only way to go. no matter what he's lost, no matter who he's lost, there are still people in the painful here-and-now of reality. and reality, time, none of it waits, none of it relents, none of it stops. you don't have to just worry about your own well-being, you have to dedicate yourself wholly to the ones who need your strength.
Tanjiro's repeated attempts and final success to break free of the first demon's hold on his mind is us as an audience fully experiencing the character of his soul: absolute purity. the film visualizes his (and his companions') "subconscious" in a way that perfectly tells you who he is- and if you still don't get it, he's going to shout it at you anyway.
his journey runs parallel not only to Rengoku, the ideal, but the main villains: the demon who takes over the train as a way to gain approval/move up in the ranks, and the upper level demon who swoops in during the third act. here we see how willpower like Tanjiro's and Rengoku's can be tarnished, that unstoppable drive used for selfish reasons rather than selfless ones: you turn into a monster.
it's in that parallel of a younger, ambitious generation trying to become/succeed the next generation that most of the heart of the movie lies.
all the tragedy, the heartbreak, the grief that we as an audience are swept with at the end where the main cast is left on the side of a trainwreck in wracking sobs lies within the inspiration and failure of pure idealistic heroes sacrificed for the sake of younger pure idealistic heroes.
in a world that's so wrought with complex, unexplainable loss, it's understandable how something as pure as Mugen Train can have such widespread appeal and cut through all the jaded, depressing cynicism of our current reality. Mugen Train dares us to look past what's happened because that's the only way we can make tomorrow better. it doesn't tell us to forget about grief, but instead, to transpose it into the will to do better for another day.
it's all a huge punch in the gut, but it's one i think a lot of us need right now.
