Remake this with less fascism and more Warren Peace.
Hosoda is making me soup. It's got all of the usual ingredients, but he's only let it cook for 5 minutes this time. "It's just like your favorite!" he insists as I taste a spoonful of the watered-down broth. I begrudgingly swallow each tasteless sip after tasteless sip. Smiling as if he is pleased with himself, Hosoda leans back in his chair as I mope in front of my bowl. He thinks he made me a good bowl of soup, but all he has done is dump recycled ingredients in a pot of flavorless water.
Some of the stylistic choices made bits of this feel like “what if Edgar Wright directed a movie about trans people.” While I wanted to love this it just feels obvious in a lot of ways, like it wasn’t really made for trans people. Still, there are a few moments where seeing trans women on screen is transcendent.