Arco

#Arco is the best animated film of the year and the best film of the year PERIOD. A charming, down to earth story about two kids (Arco and Iris) brought together when the former travels back in time from the year 2932 to the year 2075 by accident to a world on the brink of collapse til their friendship and mission to get Arco home, with the help of Iris’s robot guardian Mickey and her baby brother Pete, brings out the ounce of hope to their world before it falls, thru the symbolism of rainbows and the power of love and **** hand-drawn animated masterpiece worth seeing in theaters and the film that I think should win Best Animated Feature at the Oscars in March, not the film that’s name rhymes with “Play Bop, See It Brothers.” And yes, I got confirmation, from the film’s director Ugh Bienvenu, that NEON is gonna give it a wide release as soon as it’s wrapped it’s limited release, which will start on the day of my 29th birthday, November 14th. And I hope its wide release is bigger than what #Anora had and that we’ll get to see #Arco in Dolby Cinema. Final score for this movie: a full-on 10/10 or 5 out of 5 stars for this fully 2D-hand-drawn animated masterpiece.️️️️️

A true work of art. 'Arco' made me feel something I rarely experience when watching animation—a genre that, truthfully, has never fascinated me that much: the certainty that I had witnessed something truly special. I don’t say that lightly. In fact, I would say it is one of the best films—animated or otherwise—that I have seen in my life. I often like to repeat a phrase when I talk about cinema: this is a film that fascinates me more for how it looks than for what it shows. Though, of course, here it also fascinates me for what it shows. From the very beginning, the film strikes me as an absolute visual marvel. The settings, bathed in vibrant colors and painterly light, feel closer to a moving art gallery than to mere animated backgrounds. I find myself contemplating every shot with a level of admiration I rarely apply while watching a film. It’s a silent kind of awe, as if I were standing in front of paintings that breathe on their own. A constant visual delight, a sensory experience. There is, however, one aesthetic element that initially throws me off: the animation speed. That deliberate low-frame-rate effect feels unusual at first. It’s not that I reject it outright, but it does create a certain discomfort, partly because I’m simply not used to this format. At times it even gives me a slight sense of dizziness, as though I were missing pieces of visual information. But as the film progresses, my eyes adjust and I start enjoying it like a kid. The rhythm stops feeling like an obstacle and instead becomes part of the film’s visual identity. It had been a long time since I experienced that kind of well-being in front of a screen: the satisfaction of contemplating colors so vivid and luminous—exactly the intensity I personally love—elegant framing, and compositions designed to get lost in their scenic depths. If I had to recall something similar, I would go back to the restored version of 'Under Capricorn' by Alfred Hitchcock—still, in my opinion, an underrated work—and also to 'Train Dreams' by Clint Bentley. The score deserves its own mention. Something unusual happens here: I often leave a film without remembering a single musical note, but in this case I remain fully aware of the music throughout the entire runtime. I can’t necessarily hum the whole theme, but certain notes have stayed in my head, and the thought keeps crossing my mind: what a wonderful piece of music. Its style feels hypnotic and dreamlike, with an undertone that makes it subtly unsettling. I can’t help thinking about 'Masked Ball' from 'Eyes Wide Shut'. They don’t sound alike, but they share that ceremonial sense of mystery and slightly disturbing beauty. It’s the kind of music I could imagine listening to in everyday life, which almost never happens to me. Where the film leaves me with more mixed feelings is in its story. When I finish a film, I never write about it immediately. I usually wait hours—or even days—to let the experience settle. My opinions often change with reflection, and what I think right after the credits roll rarely matches what I think later. My first impression was that the story is beautiful. It wins me over with its emotional tone, orbiting themes such as love, farewell, loss, and the inevitable moment of leaving home—or a place you love behind. The film handles these ideas gently at first, until the drama arrives with real force. A sentimental blow that leaves a mark. It’s a risky decision, especially for a story that could easily be watched by a younger audience. Still, I can’t help feeling that the screenplay could have gone a little further. I would have liked deeper exploration of certain characters and motivations. Even so, the character dynamics work well, and everyone finds their place in the story, even those who might normally fall into the role of **** times I start to feel that some moments exist more as narrative padding than anything else. Yet when I reconsider, I realize that removing them would probably strip away a significant part of the story. The film is already quite short, and without those moments it would likely feel too brief to work properly. A few months ago I was pleasantly surprised by 'K-Pop Demon Hunters', mostly because I didn’t expect such an entertaining film within that premise. 'Arco', however, produces a similar effect on me—only stronger. It feels like a step further: more delicate, more aesthetic, and more emotional. And perhaps the most curious thing of all is that, looking back at the year’s big productions, animated films are currently interesting me more than many live-action movies—what I’ve always liked to call films made of “flesh and blood.”

Una película entretenida que nos hace reflexionar sobre el camino que esta tomando la tecnología, los sentimientos humanos y el optimismo en tiempos de crisis. La verdad la fui a ver sin expectativas pero me sorprendió, es una gran película.

"Arco" is a sweet, immersive glimpse at two of our futures, and it’s clear-eyed about which aspects of those worlds we want to avoid, and which ones we have to pursue. It opens like a fairy tale from the future, but what makes it interesting isn’t the time travel or the shiny world our protagonist comes from. It’s the fact that the movie keeps drifting back toward something small and personal. A kid who wants attention. A girl who wants someone to actually show up for her. A robot who’s probably the only real adult in the room. It’s a strange mix, but it works more often than not. Arco lives in the year 2932, way up in these giant “tree cities” that look like they grew straight out of a sci-fi art book. Everything is hand-drawn in this soft 2D style that feels warm, almost analogue. Instead of the usual glossy CG future, this one’s full of curves and bright colors and small details you can actually stare at. Even the hovercars feel calm. And then you’ve got the rainbow time-travel suits and capes fluttering behind them like it’s nothing. But Arco’s family treats time travel like weekend errands, and he’s the only one stuck watching them leave. He’s ten, over-eager, and very sure he knows what he’s doing, which is exactly why he doesn’t. He steals his sister’s suit, jumps into a time warp, and gets slingshot not into prehistoric times or some lost civilization, but into 2075. Which, for him, might as well be the apocalypse. That year is where Iris lives. She’s not miserable, but she’s on her own more than a kid her age should be. Her parents show up through holograms, always busy, always rushing off. So when she sees this rainbow slashing across the sky and finds a boy in a strange suit at the end of it, she doesn’t question it too much. She just decides to help him. Kids do that, they take in strays without thinking about the paperwork. Iris has a robot guardian, Mikki, who looks like he was designed to scare people away, but ends up being the sweetest character in the whole movie. He cares for Iris and her baby brother with this patient, almost weary gentleness. He’s the emotional anchor, honestly. Every time he’s on screen, you feel like things will be okay, at least for a minute. The middle part of the movie, showing Arco healing, Iris teaching him how things work, both of them wandering around a world that’s starting to fall apart, is where the film is at its best. The score helps a lot here. It’s quiet, almost melancholy, and it wraps around the animation in a way that feels natural, like it grew from the drawings themselves. There’s a stretch where Iris and Arco just exist together, figuring each other out, and the film lets those moments breathe. No rushing, no big musical “this is important!” cues. Just two kids trying to make sense of the messes adults have made, both in the future and in the present. But the script never quite knows what to do with all its ideas. You can see the filmmakers reaching for something bigger–climate anxiety, loneliness, responsibility–but the story keeps jumping away before those threads settle. And then you have the three brothers who act as the villains. They’re more nuisances than threats. Their scenes feel like they come from a different movie, like someone decided the story needed comic relief even though the core relationship was strong enough on its own. They’re not awful, just… thin. When the movie shifts back to Iris, Arco, and Mikki, you can feel the gears clicking into place again. The last act folds in the climate disasters that have been rumbling in the background, storms ripping through neighborhoods, the feeling that things are breaking faster than people can fix them. Instead of pulling off a big, satisfying climax, the movie leans into a messier, quieter ending. It’s not a neat resolution, and it’s not really happy either, but it’s honest. It leaves you with that strange mix of sadness and hope that kids’ movies usually try to sand down. This one doesn’t. It trusts you to sit with it. "Arco" isn’t perfect, some emotions could’ve been pushed further and some characters filled in more. But the world is so lovingly drawn, and the relationship at the center is so genuine, that the film sticks with you anyway. It’s beautiful without being sugary, earnest without being corny. Even with the rough spots, it has a pulse. You can feel the people behind it.

Arco is a delightfully cute film that blends science fiction, fantasy, and adventure to craft a simple yet consistently relevant message about the environment and the only planet we have. While the story of a boy who needs help getting home feels very familiar, the way it celebrates friendship and the visuals reminiscent of Studio Ghibli and Moebius make the film entertaining for children and offer a few pertinent reflections for adults.