Over the Sky (2020)

Over the Sky is the kind of animated romance-fantasy that sneaks up on you: it starts in the everyday rhythms of after-school Ikebukuro and then gently tilts into something dreamlike, turning familiar streets into a place where feelings look louder and choices feel heavier. Its real magic is visual—lush, detailed backgrounds and evocative set pieces that make the city glow with memory and longing, even when the story is quiet. Beneath the shimmering imagery is a surprisingly poignant look at jealousy, friendship, and the lies we tell to keep the people we love close. If you want a brisk, plot-driven fantasy, it may feel more like a mood piece than a roller coaster, but if you’re open to an underrated, heartfelt experience, it’s absolutely worth the trip.

Over the Sky is clearly aiming for a heartfelt, teen-romance-meets-fantasy journey about regret, honesty, and growing up, with Ikebukuro used as a dreamy emotional backdrop. The problem is it often feels bloated and repetitive, stretching simple relationship drama into a confusing supernatural plot that doesn’t always connect cleanly, so scenes can play more like déjà vu than momentum. Characters who should anchor the story come off undercooked, and some visual effects choices are oddly jarring, pulling you out right when you want to lean in. If you love moody anime romances and can tolerate messy, impressionistic storytelling for the occasional pretty moment, you might find something to like—otherwise this is likely to test your patience.