Despite the use of toy cars and action figures, there is something overwhelmingly sad about Koichiro Tsujikawa's work here. Amplified by the spacious tones of Cornelius's track, the director presents a stunning vision of humanity's futility. Yet it isn't just that these little people move in circles, but they are all caught in their own vortex - orbiting only in their own galaxy. Many of the characters do indeed notice others, but in these cases the outside individuals now become the center of their world - whether it be a father, mother or lover. No one really seems cognizant of the anonymous person standing in front of them in line, let alone the bigger picture of humankind.
But sometime after the halfway point, Tsujikawa zooms in on a Venus de Milo-type women spinning inside one of the many portal-like doorways. Not only does she seem a unique figure in this redundant universe, but there is something unexpected about her beauty. Now as the director pulls out to show us this world once more, it suddenly has symmetry and grace where it once seemed pointless and stagnant. The ballet of the process - no matter how lonely - is at least something to admire aesthetically. The ability to enjoy such things is perhaps the only thing that prevents us from actually becoming stone.