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The Place Promised In Our Early Days is a film by Makoto Shinkai, most recently of 5 Centimetres Per Second fame. Following his debut Voices of a Distant Star (of which you can read my review here) this is Shinkai’s first full feature-length film and was a full scale production, unlike the mostly self-made Voices. As such, it not only maintains but further develops Shinkai’s now-distinctive visual style as it tells the story of two teenage boys – Hiroki and Takuya – who are repairing a crashed plane in hopes of flying it to a distant tower, their friendship with a girl named Sayuri, and the promise the three friends make to each other to someday reach the tower. As so often happens, their childhood plans are interrupted as circumstances separate the three friends, but still the promise they made to each other is not forgotten.

The Place Promised In Our Early Days is set against the backdrop of an alternate version of Japan in the late 1990s/early 2000s. At some point in this alternate history, Hokkaido – the northernmost of Japan’s main islands – split from the rest of the nation to join “the Union” and adopted the island’s older name of Ezo. A mysterious tower was constructed by the Union at the centre of Ezo, so immensely tall that it is even visible from Tokyo on a clear day. It goes without saying, then, that it looms high on the horizon for Hiroki and Takuya as they grow up in Aomori in the north of Honshu. It’s no wonder that their teenage curiosity longed to visit the tower, nor that their promise to fly there would be so hard to forget even when they take separate paths into high school.

In addition to an interesting political setting, The Place Promised In Our Early Days also features heavier science-fiction elements than Shinkai’s other films, with multiple realities becoming a central element of the plot as the film progresses. Still, amidst quantum physics and the threat of war it is the promise made by three young friends – and the difficulties they face in fulfilling it – that sits at the centre of the film, and above all else The Place Promised In Our Early Days is a story of friendship, love and separation. Makoto Shinkai has not only established a recognisable aesthetic, but also consistently presented believable characters with often painfully identifiable emotions.

Speaking of that recognisable aesthetic, however, the animation in The Place Promised In Our Early Days is a marked progression from that in Voices of a Distant Star, as you would expect given that Shinkai had the benefit of a full production team for this film. Background animation, in particular, is beautiful and lovingly detailed, and the impressive command of light and shadow brings real life to the visuals. CGI is used sparingly and fairly effectively and there are thankfully no particularly jarring mixtures of animation methods. To put it simply, the beautiful story is told with equally beautiful visuals.

There is a third element that plays a key role in Makoto Shinkai’s films, and that is a stunning soundtrack by Tenmon. This score is perhaps less sparse than his others, with fuller orchestral arrangements accompanying the softer piano-based tracks, but this is fitting to the grander scope of the film and is no less complimentary to the emotion of the story. Every piece of music in the film supports the story and animation brilliantly, and Tenmon’s use of recurring melodies scattered throughout the soundtrack – including one which is actually played by characters in the film on violin – creates a sense of cohesion that really ties things together. I’m a huge fan of Tenmon as a composer, and his soundtrack for The Place Promised In Our Early Days is no exception.

One of the impressive things about Makoto Shinkai is that he’s managed to make three films that are both unified and distinct from one another. Though they may share common themes to form a cohesive body of work, each tells a different story and each has its own unique emotional resonance. Though The Place Promised In Our Early Days is likely the broadest in scope and setting, it never loses sight of what’s most important: the people, the bonds that they share and the emotions that they feel. It is a touching film with often breathtaking visuals and excellent soundtrack that will not disappoint fans of Makoto Shinkai’s other works and will show anyone not yet familiar with the acclaimed director just what all the fuss is about.