Masaaki Yuasa’s showstopping animation reframes the classical performance style as a world of rock gods and cavorting dancers

Anime maverick Masaaki Yuasa’s 14th-century rock opera gets off to the most traditional start possible with some stark Noh-style declaiming. But things quickly get pretty wild: Hendrix-ish behind-the-head lute shredding, phantom samurai breakdancing, giant whale lightshows. Retrofitting medieval Noh as a world of guitar gods and cavorting dancers, Inu-oh has its two disabled lead characters make a psychedelic plea in favour of slipping loose from dominant narratives, told in a fecund patchwork of styles by Yuasa that asserts its own outsider credentials.

Tomona (Mirai Moriyama) and Inu-oh (trans musician Avu-chan) are the Keith Richards and Mick Jagger of Muromachi-era Kyoto. The first is a biwa player who, in the film’s opening section, is blinded by a mystical sword lost in a battle between two clans wrestling over the shogunate two centuries earlier. The second is the disfigured son of a Noh troupe leader, who hides his face behind a gourd mask and capers around with the help of a giant arm like a cherry-picker crane. But together, they are dynamite: Tomona ripping staid Noh music apart with stadium-rock aplomb, Inu-oh entrancing the entire city with whirlwind dance that repairs his body each time he performs.