Ugo Bienvenu’s Arco arrives as one of the most visually arresting animated features of recent years, a hand-drawn French production that feels like a love letter to Studio Ghibli’s watercolor dreamscapes crossed with a gentle warning about our ecological near-future. The premise is enchanting on paper: what if rainbows were literal travelers from a distant, healed tomorrow, and a ten-year-old boy in a shimmering suit accidentally crash-lands in 2075, where a lonely girl named Iris must help him return before time itself frays? Neon’s acquisition and Natalie Portman’s involvement as producer only heighten the sense that this is meant to be an event—an intimate, hopeful counterpoint to blockbuster fatigue.
The animation is genuinely lovely. Bold, expressive and a palette that swings between saturated cloud-city pastels and the muted, dust-hazed tones of a climate-stressed 2075 give every frame real texture and personality. Bienvenu’s illustrator roots are everywhere: the bubble-domed suburbs, the holographic billboards, the floating gardens of Arco’s era—they all feel lived-in. The themes are undeniably urgent. The film doesn’t shy away from showing a world already bending under heatwaves, absent parents replaced by robot caregivers, and a pervasive loneliness that technology has only deepened. Yet it refuses outright despair, choosing instead to place its faith in childhood friendship, small acts of repair, and the stubborn human instinct to imagine a better tomorrow. There are no heavy-handed lectures here—just quiet observations about connection, ecological responsibility, and what we owe the people (and futures) we meet along the way.
And yet—for me, at least—something essential is missing. While the animation is lovely and the themes poignant and urgent, Arco lacks the kind of effortless charm required for genuine emotional connection. Arco and Iris are sweet, believable kids with clear motivations, but their banter and bonding moments never quite spark into the sort of unguarded magic that makes you ache when they’re apart. The script is efficient, even graceful in places, but it rarely lingers long enough for tenderness or mischief to settle in. I admired their journey more than I felt swept up in it; I respected their friendship more than I believed I’d miss it once the credits rolled.
The voice cast (both the original French and the English dub featuring Portman, Ruffalo, and others) is solid, and the handful of comic-relief side characters—a trio of rainbow-obsessed hunters, Iris’s literal-minded robot nanny—add welcome levity without derailing the tone.
Arco is a beautiful, well-intentioned film that succeeds far more as a visual and thematic statement than as an emotionally transporting experience. It’s absolutely worth seeing—especially on the big screen, where its colors can really breathe—and it’s one of the stronger entries in this year’s animated conversation. But for all its rainbow brightness, it never quite warmed me the way I hoped it would. Admiration, yes. Affection, not quite.
First Look Screening
Sat, March 7
Luna Outdoor
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