Jinsei Review: Traveling Over Many Years and Many Names • The Austin Chronicle

At the start of first-time feature director Ryuya Suzuki’s animated film Jinsei, our protagonist reveals the last time he was called by his birth name. The circumstances are tragic but in Suzuki’s unique visual style, they’re also a little funny, a little weird, and a lot interesting. Thus begins the 10-chapter tale of a man called by many names over nearly 100 years – all portrayed through truly out-of-this-world animation.

To explain in detail the film’s plot would do little to explain its appeal. Suzuki, who animated the film by himself over 18 months, told The Japan Times that there was no script to guide him, only a theme of identity. While this sort of surprise-based storytelling meant as a viewer I couldn’t predict what happened next, it made any themes other than the main overarching one impossible to parse. Jinsei’s multi-named protagonist – at times called Kuro, Se-chan, and even God (all voiced by Japanese rapper Ace Cool) – is also very aloof in tone, his cool demeanor only broken by sudden acts of violence. By the film’s midway point, there’s little concrete to hold onto within the story and there’s always a risk of floating away from the onscreen action entirely.

But that’s where the beauty of Suzuki’s animation saves what otherwise is a pretty jumbled narrative. Japanese animation, or anime, has become a staple of the international cinematic landscape, especially after OVA screenings (original video animations, usually based on manga or episodic anime shows) proved incredibly profitable for theatres post-lockdown. Yet Jinsei looks nothing like the visual explosion of a Demon Slayer The Movie: Mugen Train. Its muted color palette of gray, darker gray, and navy blue keep even the most cosmic scenes grounded in the personal interactions between characters. 

Here, the inspiration Suzuki claims of live-action classics like Battle Royale, The Worst Person in the World, and Scarface shines through. The language he develops is playful yet deliberate, and most of how we emotionally engage with the protagonist and surrounding players is through striking images: a swan flying to show a dream of true freedom or bloody underwear to reveal a deeply tragic decision. Most notable, though, is how time passing is portrayed across the film’s multi-decade spanning runtime. When we’re first introduced to our protagonist in 2008, scenes luxuriate in childhood slowness – everything feels like forever even when it’s only six months – but as he grows older, time picks up the pace until at last shown as a captivating montage going too fast to ever fully appreciate. 

There are many films where formulating a star “rating” feels at odds with my personal experience of the picture. How can I rate a movie where I was both dazzled and frustrated, often in the same scenes? Maybe this is just the rub when an obviously talented director has mastered one skill but hasn’t quite figured out the whole tool belt. I see so much potential in Suzuki’s skill as an image-creator, and his process with Jinsei where he created the scenes over an 18-month crunch makes for an exciting behind-the-scenes story. Is a beautiful vision enough to overwhelm the fragmented foundation its narrative stands on? Every viewer’s answer will be different. Personally? I’m interested to see where Suzuki goes next – hopefully with a script in hand.

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This article appears in June 12 • 2026.