The 2026 edition of the Tokyo International Film Festival has become a laboratory for format experimentation. Among the line-up, director Shinichiro Ueda presented Earthlings in Love, a feature-length expansion of a TikTok-born microdrama, while newcomer Sun Xun debuted Magic Atlas, a stop-motion work that spent a decade in production. Both films illustrate how new media and painstaking craftsmanship can coexist on the same prestigious screen.
Earthlings in Love: a TikTok series reborn as a festival feature
Ueda’s reputation for low-budget ingenuity, earned on the cult hit One Cut of the Dead, paved the way for his latest venture. The original version of Earthlings in Love aired as a 30-part vertical video series on social platforms, each clip lasting roughly two minutes. For the festival, the material was re-edited into a 102-minute narrative, extending the original 76-minute cut and preserving the 9:16 aspect ratio. Ueda utilizes the narrow frame deliberately, framing characters from the waist up and encouraging the viewer’s eye to travel upward—an aesthetic choice that mirrors the protagonist’s fragmented memories.
The story follows Shinpei, a 40-something director battling early-onset dementia. Returning to his hometown for a classmate’s funeral, he hires an AI service that reconstructs fading recollections from photos and diaries. The AI, however, merely reflects Shinpei’s own unreliable memories, blurring the line between reality and imagination. Microdrama conventions shine here: the film revisits earlier moments from slightly altered angles, revealing crucial details that were previously hidden. This technique feels organic rather than gimmicky, turning the constraints of vertical video into narrative strength.
Magic Atlas: a ten-year stop-motion odyssey
In stark contrast, Sun Xun’s Magic Atlas represents a decade of meticulous craftsmanship. The project blends woodcut animation, ink painting, and contemporary stop-motion techniques, creating a visually intoxicating palette. Each frame bears the texture of hand-carved wood grain, while bursts of vivid colour punctuate the otherwise monochrome sequences. The opening credits, rendered in ink, float across the screen as if brushed by a calligrapher’s hand.
Despite its visual brilliance, the narrative remains elusive. Set in the coal-rich empire of Luocha, a magician’s arrival sparks panic in a society perched on a fragile peace. Themes of collective amnesia and authoritarian manipulation surface—symbolised by swarms of mosquitoes scattering “amnesia powder.” Yet the film offers few concrete developments, leaving audiences with an awe-inspiring collage rather than a tightly plotted story. critics liken the viewing experience to the ethereal quality of Mamoru Oshii’s Angel’s Egg, where atmosphere outweighs conventional storytelling.
What the two premieres say about the future of festival cinema
The simultaneous presence of a vertical-video feature and a stop-motion epic underscores a broader shift at major festivals. Traditional A-ratio cinema is no longer the sole benchmark for artistic merit; *format* itself can become a storytelling device. Ueda’s adaptation proves that short-form content can be re-contextualised for the big screen without losing its original DNA, while Xun’s labor-intensive animation reminds us that time-consuming crafts still command attention.
Both films also tackle memory—Ueda through AI-mediated recollection, Xun through the literal erasure of history. Their divergent approaches suggest that festivals are becoming testing grounds for how technology, nostalgia, and tactile artistry intersect. As audiences encounter these hybrid works, the definition of what qualifies as a “movie” continues to expand, hinting at a future where smartphones and woodcut blocks share the same marquee.
