What if X-Men was a historical romance fantasy novel set in Japan? That’s what My Happy Marriage, a new hit film released by Toho on March 17, 2023, attempts to find out. The movie, directed by Ayuko Tsukahara (Café Funiculi Funicula), is based on a popular series of light novels by Akumi Agitogi (originally published online and only later licensed for traditional publishing). The traumatic love story takes place in the Meiji period (1868-1912) against a backdrop of military intrigue and shifting alliances. The movie twists together themes of abuse, manipulation, and dark magic with a slow-burn sweet romance, and the action is carried out with a strong aesthetic of hard-edged wonder and tear-stained romantic success in the jaws of caprice—but the tale has enough world building stuffed inside to occasionally choke the narrative.

Miyo Saimori (Mio Imada, Tokyo Revengers [2021]) is a Cinderella character abused by her stepmother and disparaged for not possessing the magical powers expected from her family line. She is soon forcibly engaged to be married off to Kiyoka Kudo (Ren Meguro of the boyband Snow Man), a military commander with pyrotechnic powers and a reputation for ruthless and cold behavior. As timorous Saimori gets to know brutish Kudo, his true character begins to emerge from the ice, and Saimori begins to find a happiness she didn’t realize she could possess. However, mysterious forces are undermining the government and military forces, with a bizarre plague-like force taking over the minds of soldiers and officials and turning them into agents of chaos. As Saimori’s stepmother and family further plot her misery in the background, and violence erupts across the city, not only their love, but the future of the country lies in the balance.

Director Tsukahara is mostly known for her television work, with her sole other film credit being the sweet-but-mediocre modern cozy fantasy Café Funiculi Funicula (which I have also reviewed). My Happy Marriage is much more ambitious, being filled with period costumes, elaborate fantasy fight sequences, and complex world-building along with the weepy elements Tsukahara handled so well in her previous film. Still, even in the maelstrom of the complicated plot, the heart of the relationship mostly beats strong, with surprisingly solid character moments and effective (if melodramatic) acting from the leads.

Fukuoka beauty queen Imada as Saimori is all wide eyes and stuttering apologies, suffering through arduous chores and mistreatment from her evil step-family. I have been seeing Imada in all sorts of advertisements lately, so I was curious to see whether she had acting chops to cut a dramatic role like this one—and she handles her copious teary scenes with a sense of heightened reality. Her tears seem genuine, and if her blankly blinking expression sometimes feels repetitive in terms of performance, her slow emergence over the course of the film as a strong, confident force is rewarding. Meguro as ice king Kudo has the more nuanced role, as he has to play an initially chauvinistic control-freak who demands even that Saimori die if he so commands, but also slowly crack to the warmth of their mutual affection, showing devotion through his steely exterior. Plus manly fight sequences and firework magic fights. At first I was worried that he would come across as too wooden like Kazu in Café Funiculi Funicula, but Hamada displays seeds of warmth through subtle expressions and touches of charm balanced against his harsh expectations of those around him—and I have to say, it works. Some aspects of the premise and execution sit uncomfortably with me, though, as the tale implicitly endorses a sort of Beauty and the Beast/Stockholm syndrome type affair at first, and some viewers may find the power imbalance and control of the women in that society in poor taste. Fans from the West, too, may be disgusted with Saimori’s often passive and constantly apologetic obeisance to Kudo for most of the film. However, for author Agitogi, the historical realities of Meiji Japan were probably a big part of the narrative equation here, and the conclusion of the film does a lot to strengthen the protagonists’ relationship.

Minor characters are strong, too. Stepsister Hana (played by Ryoko Kobayashi, Kamen Rider the First [2005]) is viciously uncaring and sabotages Saimori at every turn. Oshiro Maeda as Yoshito Godo, a fellow officer and good friend of Yudo’s, shows youthful zeal and range, nailing both perky camaraderie and tragic internal conflict with peppy enthusiasm. But my favorite was Keisuke Watanabe (Kamen Rider Zi-O: Geiz, Majesty [2020]) as Arata Tsuruki, a mysterious businessman with an eye for Saimori. From the moment he first came on the screen, he has this mischievous, knowing air that exudes from his countenance and endows his character with a delightful sense of danger, and we never quite know if we can trust the guy. I loved that.

However, the movie tries to crowbar in so many plot points and crosscurrent scheming and the magic system and tragic back story that the tale drags at times. Part of the issue was my level of Japanese, as I didn’t quite understand, for example, why this guy in the beginning is tapdancing underneath bizarre upside-down mystical CGI flowers, or quite what the inner workings of the villainous conspiracy operating under the surface is all about. But even if I did understand, my guess is that the plot elements wouldn’t fully work because there is just so much. With the sundry details hog-piled in, the characters don’t get so much chance to breathe, and the eventual dramatic rescue at the end feels like convenient plot-manipulation more than a natural outgrowth of the story. Still, these negatives are hard to strongly—at least until I can get a version with English or Japanese subtitles and work through a bit more carefully so I can understand what was happening better.

Special effects and action are briskly handled, with magical encounters presented with majesty and sensitivity, if not with the level of realism of a Hollywood picture. The bursts of flame and wind as the elements rage reflect characters’ internal turmoil, and so while the crackling energy and paper-cut slicing zephyrs may not be depicted with highest fidelity, they do have emotional fervor. The final confrontation, while perhaps settled in the end with “barely an inconvenience”, still has more dramatic impact than Shin Kamen Rider (which My Happy Marriage defeated at the box office).

The soundtrack by Akiyuki Takeyama (Laid-Back Camp) failed to make much impact with me, without many of the sort of epic orchestration or memorable melodies that can pull out emotion or meaning for me. When I did notice Takeyama’s toons, they felt generic and without much character. The end-theme over the credits by Johnny’s group boy band Snow Man, too, feels colorless and mild, providing background noise more than any cascade of catharsis.

The costumes, the bombastic magic acts, the love in the air, the fiery fight scenes, it does come together for My Happy Marriage enough to twiddle the heart strings and provide the flavor of an epic fight here and there. As far as fantasy romance adventures goes, I think this one gets the balance just a sliver better than Destiny: the Tale of Kamakura (2017), but still struggles with an unwieldy plot that distracts from character work. Still, I was happy as I left the theater, and the other audience members cheerily chattering as they stepped from the cinematic experience seemed fulfilled, too—better than the stony silence after Shin Kamen Rider or really most films I attend in Japan. In the end, the partnership between magic and love was indeed a positive union.