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You, whose favorite book is none other than The Little Prince, have you thought of protecting your rose?

She entered my fragile clearing full of wrath, her fiery dress clattering on her heels. Charred from the inside out, I carried my raw wounds around for a long time, without complaining, my mind haggard and my soul sick, like those who are locked up in a madhouse and quickly, very quickly forgotten, because they have a body that disturbs by over-extending and getting restless, teeth that crack and gums that bleed, but I promise! I'll swallow my pills, yours too if you like, so you won't have ... to carry so much, I've got a strong stomach, come on! give it!

The Boy and the Heron spreads its wings with customary agility, and stands as a veritable compendium of all that Hayao Miyazaki has done best. There are pieces of him, of his soul and of each of his previous works scattered in every shot, drizzled in every feather. With an experienced master's hand, the conductor leads the waltz of elements and textures with ardor, revealing the nature of his characters in all their complexion.
The frame never ceases to swell and expand to the rhythm of the music and the many masterful sound effects; but for me, what knocked me out was the film's charm, which grows from minute to minute, until it verges on the Infinite with its wingtips and makes us lose all notion of Time.

Warawara-saturated gullet, a wounded pelican reluctantly abandons the fiery skies and lands on the worm-eaten deck of the sad boat.

Fear not, thou whose eyes burn with a slightly surly magical glow, stretch out thy fingers!

"Mais si les bouts se touchent
Et que nos mains s'entrecroisent"

The Grey Heron's beak has triumphed over Death many a time.

4 little mice nibble on the sheet music of the red-haired kid, shimmering fragments tinted with wild notes. Gradually, the piano tames him. Barefoot in the tall grass that grows to the sound of the keys under a radiant moon, a luminous moment of grace where the metronome stops, a few heartbeats in rhythm, breath caught - - - the spectator listens, the music overwhelms everything, subtly infiltrates the bodies; a marvelous journey that scale, we are well, protected by the trees, the foliage, Nature: talent has all the room in the world to express itself. One is wild, the other diligent, two styles opposite, ... but, seemingly, around a stave, they complement and unite courageously to overcome the false notes standing in their way. Piano Forest, a melancholic score, eagerly awaiting to be played again.

As a prelude, Lupin and his accomplice pull off a high-speed robbery, involving steering wheels, tricked-out cars and wet-ink banknotes. Then, as he drowns under an ocean of cash, the gentleman thief has an idea: return to one of his most bitter failures: Cagliostro's Castle. The melancholy, jazzy opening credits are reminiscent of the passage of time, and with our arms full of our youth and our backs propped up on the back seat, we're off on our adventure.

The sight of the delicate princess imprisoned transforms the thief into a mischievous knight, guided by romantic impulses; Miyazaki finely sketches the budding love of this unlikely ... couple. From their glances and caresses, a balance emerges that is devoted with all its soul to their just cause.

The fast pace of the film never detracts from the pure pleasure. Lupin is certainly moving around a lot, but each of his oscillations always ends up finding a purpose, whether it makes us laugh or surprises us. The characters enjoy hallucinatory freedom of movement - the castle of the terrible Cagliostro becomes the theatre of all possibilities: riddled with traps, secret passages and protected by a fascinating army of Shadows, we move from one room to another in a sigh, guided by two perpetually moving streams: water and love. The director, a mechanic of rhythm, has fun contrasting the scenes of general beating with the more intimate scenes, where Lupin finds himself face to face with a single interlocutor, whether it be his betrothed, his rival, his alter ego as a cop or the dog, symbol of his past failure but also of his rebirth. We discover him more clumsy, more attentive, awkwardly trying to hide his devotion with countless contortions.

The whole film rests on this fragile watchmaker's balance, shaped by contrasts, and it is on the hands of the great Tower that the master thief will reveal his soul, his eye sparkling, fixed on the horizon.

Masaaki Yuasa is a genius, and everything he touches turns into heart-warming candy.

His childlike soul, intact, is at the helm. Ideas rain down like asteroids, riddling the frame at an insane pace, and an entire universe comes to life under the Master's fanatical and amused pencil strokes.

Ping Pong and The Tatami Galaxy are immense, indispensable works, and the latest, Keep Your Hands Off, Eizuken! is made of the same material.

Three girls with diametrically opposed, and therefore complementary, personalities set out to create a video club in order to make an anime (each for a different reason, basically).

The imagination constantly bubbling in the trio's heads overflows ... and permeates every scene with its excesses.

You forget everything, your heart lightens and your lips quiver.

When it all comes to a halt, there's only one thing you want: to continue to see the world through the eyes of the kid inside you, a world that's less vain, more intrepid, a world that's sweet and sparkling, its nose always raised to the stars, its guts honed for adventure.

There are a lot of problems with the writing. Little details here and there that bother me. Illogical remarks that suddenly take me out of the story, or situations that are a little too conventional, which make me sigh.
Moreover, the dialogues are sorely lacking in rhythm and spice. It's the last straw for a high-school love story, a bubbly, intrepid period.
Taiki's clearly not the most exciting boy on earth, and there's nothing wrong with being banal, but it's all too predictable. I've had enough of dull romances, I can't find myself in them.
The drawings, on the other hand, are quite brilliant, and ... the author really puts in the effort, especially for Chinatsu (I can almost smell her), even if the sports sections are a little thin and lacking in detail.

I'm going to carry on reading, and maybe I'll come back to my review if the next part takes a completely different direction, but my gut tells me it'll never really be moved by this manga.

A handful of cicadas gently animate the summer atmosphere, a timeless melody composed of burning memories clinging to beings, ignoring time, a dreadful enemy with a twisted soul, disfigured by so many wanderings. The Mad Scientist frantically taps the keys of his laptop, D-mail sent, the microwave crackles, process is suddenly activated, lines of the Universe are bending and stretching, under the migratory movements of this crazy guy, in love. Guided by a scientific curiosity, Okarin crosses Time, a glittering ivory shadow gliding from one dimension to another, trying not to submit, to tame it, this merciless beast with a golden mane, the one that ... strikes at things still and those in motion;
The needles flicker, two childish eyes stretch out, the shadow of Death extends, once again, Okarin, save her...