How do you personally define hope? Is it merely a feeling, a fleeting thought, or do you see it as something tangible? There is no correct answer when it comes to describing such a concept, but we do find it becoming the root of some fascinating metaphorical discussion. For many, the ultimate representation of undying hope is that of a rainbow – a simple but colourful refraction of light that is nothing more than physics, but yet has come to be seen as the ultimate depiction of optimism. In an era where just about every concept – whether tangible or otherwise – has become the foundation of some kind of animated work, it seemed inevitable that we’d find rainbows the subject, which is what we find is the case with Arco, the wonderful directorial debut by Ugo Bienvenu, who immediately positions himself as an essential voice in contemporary animation. Set in two timelines – both in the future (one only about half a century from now, another far more distant)- where the planet has been undergoing many changes, causing the human race to struggle for its survival. When Arco, the rambunctious young boy living in the distant future, decides to disobey his parents and fly into the past, he finds himself trapped in 2075, a world he barely recognises. It is here that he meets Iris, the lonely young daughter of absent-minded parents. Together, these unlikely friends team up and go in search of Arco’s lost diamond, which will allow him to return to the future, but at the expense of leaving his new friend behind. A colourful, bold adventure that blends science fiction with friendship drama, Arco is a lovely film, a beautifully animated work that takes a very unique approach to the concept of a utopia, a stark contrast to the grittier and more harrowing depictions of a dystopian future that we normally find in contemporary works of science fiction, a work of pure and unbridled ambition.

The director has been outspoken in noting that his intentions with Arco were to create a gentle, idealistic story built from hope, a kind of eternal optimism towards the future that sharply contrasts our innate tendency to veer towards more pessimistic views of what is to come. To understand the impact of this film, we have to divide it into two broad concepts: futurism and the role it plays in defining our lives. The characters in this film (in both timelines) exist in versions of the future that seem ideal and border on utopian, while still feeling some kind of disenchantment with the surrounding world. In 2075, Iris’ life may be defined by technological advancement, where everything has been streamlined, but at the expense of leading fulfilling lives. Everything may be shiny and polished, but existence feels hollow. Conversely, Arco lives in a time when nature and technology have finally agreed, existing in harmony and allowing the human race to be as close to spiritually pure as possible. However, even here, there are issues, such as the fact that Arco feels profoundly bored by the limitations placed on him. The director uses these broad contrasts as a way to comment on the usual tropes we find in traditional science fiction, one in which we are presented with a future that seems perfect, but where there is a simmering bleakness beneath the surface. Bienvenu uses the theme of childhood innocence that explore this film – he posits that no one has a purer or more honest view of life than children, with the moral clarity and their predisposition to always do what is right being the one constant that runs throughout this film, their instinct to help and protect being starkly different to the ulterior motives possessed by the adults who are scarcely seen in this film, but whose limitations linger very heavily over the narrative. Whether we want to view this as pure speculation or the director’s desire to convey his belief that children possess the imaginative elasticity required to not only envision a perfect world but bring it to fruition depends on individual interpretation, but it’s not difficult to see where he finds the inspiration for this story.

However, it is also important to look beneath the surface and consider some of the more abstract ideas. Arco may be marketed towards younger viewers, but it’s rich with allegory. The sheer symbolism of the rainbow suit that serves as the focal point of the film is intriguing – signifying harmony, unity and the blending of possibility with the limitations of reality, there is always something compelling to be said about this story, and having such a simple but evocative motif to act as this kind of visual shorthand carries a lot of meaning. Arco’s entire existence is formed from him being entirely attuned to his surroundings – every image, sound, emotion and thought carry deeper meaning, acting as a metaphor for the sensitivity required to fully understand the world, and the role imagination plays in not only comforting society, but giving them some hope towards the future, especially when it feels like genuine human emotions are being sacrificed in favour of convenience. At first, this seems to be a statement on the importance of friendship, but we find that there are many moments in this film that feel like commentary on much deeper themes. To lead such a lonely life and suddenly experience true companionship bears a lot of meaning, and underlines the film’s fascination with the joy of discovery and the beauty of genuine emotional connections. Over the course of the film, we discover some fascinating details lingering beneath the surface – a tension between the two futures defined by the protagonists, and how they realise that the only way to maintain this special connection is to allow each other to exist separately, a challenging choice but one that they know plays a very important role in defining the future in a small but substantial way. The idea of some timelines being brighter and more beautiful is central to this film, and while it is easy to look at its ideas as overly optimistic and unrealistic in how it focuses on the idealism more than the more likely alternatives, we do find that there is more than enough value in the approach this film ultimately does take on its own. As a coming-of-age story (more than a science fiction film), Arco is stunningly mature and brings such a profound sense of honesty and integrity to a narrative that frankly did not need to be this compelling to leave an impression.

One of the aspects that keeps us so engaged when it comes to a film like Arco – and indeed one of the primary reasons to even seek out the film – is the visual aesthetic. In an era where so many animated films are created using computer-generated imagery (especially since the technology has become both widely accessible and much easier to use, meaning that many more people have access to these tools), the director chooses to employ traditional 2D animation for the most part. It has become almost a privilege to see hand-drawn animation these days, but it’s impossible to imagine this film would have been even slightly as effective had any other technique been used. There is something about the colour palettes and compositions that are usually found in these films that feel very fitting for this story. Whether we are focused on how it seems to be heavily inspired by Studio Ghibli (in terms of both aesthetic and storyline) or the bright, bombastic compositions that are so meticulously crafted, we find ourselves easily drawn into the world of this film. The oscillation between warm, prismatic hues of the distant future (Arco’s world), or the more muted, uncomfortably pleasant banality found in the quieter tones in 2075 (Iris’ world), adds many narrative layers, which are complemented by the visually stunning sequences in which the characters travel through time, some of the most striking of the year. Like a graphic novel brought to life on screen, coupled with its own unique approach, the director’s vision manifests beautifully on screen. At first, it all seems so simple, and the fluidity of the animations serves a bigger function than just entertaining us, and ultimately, all comes together to create a vibrant, compelling masterpiece. It helps that the director is not too concerned with doing too much – there are some stunning sequences, but Arco is as much about the story as it is the spectacle, and Bienvenu makes sure that he never aims for style over substance, at least as far as possible.

Arco is a film that blends futurism with emotional intimacy and an existential grandeur that we don’t always expect to find in an animated story targeted at younger viewers. The world-building alone is extraordinary, the oscillation between navel-gazing optimism and emotional density making it a far more layered work than we would expect, allowing it to flourish into a stunning childhood adventure that seamlessly weaves in environmental allegory and philosophical fable. It teaches about environmental responsibility through gentle contrasts (rather than heavy-handed lectures) between nature and technology, which the director refuses to view as being immune to harmony. At its core, Arco is a film about friendship – not only between the two main characters (their names together forming the word for “rainbow” in many languages is certainly not an accident), but also between humans and the natural world, an unbreakable bond that is far more powerful than many would imagine. We all yearn for a better world, without realising that there is a profound difference between a perfect world and one that relishes in its imperfections – it’s not about saving the world, but rather knowing that a brighter future exists for those who are yet to come, a triumphant bit of self-reflection that ties everything in this film together so beautifully. Arco is a fantastic film, one that may arguably be very simple in theory, but has a heartfulness that fills the film with so much energy and soul, defined along the boundaries of a moral continuum and showing that there is always something meaningful lurking beneath the surface.