From the mind of Makoto Shinkai (_Your Name, Weathering with You_) comes this compilation of three melancholy, intertwined short films. Drawing their collective title from the speed of cherry blossoms on a gentle breeze, they depict the coming-of-age (and romantic hangups) of a shy, deep-spirited Tokyo boy. In the first story, he embarks upon a long, snowy train voyage to air his feelings for an intense grade-school crush. Though delayed by weather, that fateful meeting goes better than hoped: a perfect, bite-sized consummation of the heart. The second and third chapters inspect the reverberations of that rendezvous; how it altered his personality and colored his amorous ideals into adulthood. In short, his love life hit a crescendo during adolescence, and he’s been chasing that same high ever since.

Apart from the abrupt karaoke interlude near its ending (where did that come from?), we spend much of this film confined within its protagonists’ confused, lovesick, teenaged heads. Like many kids of a certain age, they take everything hyper-seriously. Each infatuation is potent and star-crossed, especially those that don’t end happily. Poetry and symbolism can be found in everything. I remember feeling the same way at the same age, filling binders with meaningful sketches and pensive thoughts. Now that I’m older, maybe not much wiser but certainly a little more seasoned, I can think of a billion things I’d rather do than revisit them. Our protagonist seems stunted, still harping for that missed connection fifteen years after the fact and well into his career. And while he does finally seem to reach a sort of inner peace by the end, it’s too late for the poisoned relationships already in his wake.

In depicting a teen with his head in the clouds, this film often follows suit. Though gorgeously rendered, many of its compositions stand frozen in time, content to isolate a pretty detail and then gaze, appreciatively, for many a wordless moment. Its prose may lean too far into the realm of the navel-gaze, but the message is still familiar and valid. Lovely, but too self-absorbed.