Hey Anime Lovers
You know those contemplative, melancholy stories that blindside you and press down on your chest? Kino no Tabi – Country of Illness: For You Is Exactly What It Sounds Like It’s not a film of flashy battles or rousing speeches, but one that quietly peers deep into the shadowy corners of human kindness and asks how much sacrifice can truly get you. The reason that works like gangbusters is because you’re burying deep underneath something that is fundamentally deeply unnatural — and yet everything feels so calm and quiet.” If you’ve ever watched Kino’s Journey, I bet you can tell that’s what it honestly and seamlessly gets at: curiosity and sadness. Kino travels through the world as a sojourner who has no judgement but that which their observation imparts to them. In this tale, she processes in a country that seems something reminiscent of calm and cleanliness, but beauty always hides something wounding. It’s slow, emotional and seriously thought-provoking: An anime that lingers in your head long after the end credits have rolled.
Story summary and my review
The story begins with Kino and her windbag, quasi-sentient motorcycle Hermes riding through – as ever – a strange world of numerous countries that each live their own odd way. They pass through an area called the Country of Illness, a country divided in two. Here, downtown, it is all anyone ever dreamed of and more, neat and clean and almost as perfect as one could ask for in a city. But it’s not like anyone lives beyond those walls, just a desolate sucked-dry wasteland filled with ruins. Kino is greeted by the city’s population and they all seems to be calm and satisfied. Everything is perfect, until she comes face to face with a little girl who’s dying. The girl wants only to get well so she can live outside the hospital, but her fragile body keeps her there.
The longer Kino stays, the more she learns that the country is also famous for its medicine. And scientists are trying to defeat illnesses, such as the one the little girl has. It’s all very noble on the face of it. But Kino gradually stumbles upon the chilling truth behind it all. And the science that helps preserve the city as a place worth living depends upon a horrible thing occurring behind those private rooms. The fans do not know what they are paying in sacrifices, and the ones that do aren’t talking.
This is why the story is haunted; everything in it is matter-of-fact. No earth-shattering revelations, no thrashing meltdown — just a soft acknowledgment of the darkness that all too often breeds under every layer of civil behavior. Kino’s reaction, as usual, is muted. She does not intervene or even moralize; she simply tries to see. That's what makes her so intriguing a character. Her passivity is peaceful and makes you suffer because as a viewer you need her to do something, rescue someone and she never does.” Looking and learning, not editing, is what she believes in. It says there are times when people don’t want to see whatever it is that maintains their comfort.
Oh how innocent that child, and oh how heartbreaking. She’s so sure of herself, she knows that any treatment that works for her will benefit others too, but what she doesn’t realize is the fact. When Kino finally realizes how the research is being pursued, both she and the audience are hit with a punch that comes at something of a delay. The perfection of the country is based on a hidden pain, and that’s a theme that weaves through the book. It’s also a reflection of real life — how so many societies can thrive upon invisible suffering, how the comfort that some enjoy often assumes the suffering of others.
It’s slow, but the pace is right. There is such density to the silence in every scene. It’s not flashy animation, but the lo-fi quality suits the oeuvre. The city is immaculate, almost sterile; the desert beyond it desolate and frozen. It represents in visual terms the pure and impure, but also operates as a morality tale within the tale. The deflated colors and stationary camera work suck you into that stillness, force you to feel every second.
Contrast is always one of Kino’s Journey’s most powerful weapons. The people of this country smile, they mind their manners and they seek peace, but they are building a universe on the basis of a crime. In that gap between appearance and reality, there is the power of an unforgettable tale. Kino, herself a mirror, doesn’t say much but points to the truth of things. Her chatty motorcycle Hermes does supply a little on the light conversation side to lift things but he even starts most of his sentences as if they were made from only the finest melancholy.
Emotionally, this film hits deep. The humor and relationship issues make you consider what it means to be kind. If some are peaceful when their peace is another man’s pain? It’s only watching, it can’t be evil if you are merely observing. Kino aint answering these questions and that's what makes the story powerful. It's one of those that makes you do the thinking. That stillness of the unknown — not knowing what’s right and what’s wrong is one you carry with you long after exiting the film.
One of the nice things about this movie is it’s not heavy-handed in that “I’m going to do my best to try and make you feel something.” It doesn’t beg for tears; it isn’t scored to dramatic music. It just makes a space for the silence to talk. You can almost slice the unspoken sentiment with a knife. You feel for the girl, are disgusted by reality, admire Kino’s cool bravery — and hate you don’t know your own reaction fashion.
Everything is something if you’re paying attention. The hospital’s sterile white rooms, the empty streets, the whoosh of wind — it all contributes to a sense of loneliness and silent suffering. There is a lesson to be learned from the film: even in what appears to be paradise, darkness can prevail. In other cases, the worst barbarity is concealed by grinning whitewash. And sometimes kind can be as simple as understanding.
Recommendations?
For those of you who love anime that makes you think instead of rah-rah, Kino’s Journey: Country of Illness – For You is a must see film. It’s not overflowing with action or humor — but it is memorable. It’s slow, subdued and emotionally knotty in a way that very few stories are. You’re not going to forget that little girl or the icy serenity in Kino’s eyes after realizing her first haven of truth. Within an hour the movie displays beauty and tragedy of human nature. But then watch this when you want to meditate, when you want to feel something that’s real.” It’s not a weepy, but it will make you feel something and think for sure — which can sometimes be even better.