It puts a wood-carved samurai in your hands and dares you to look away. HIDARI is stop-motion, and the choice is the whole point: a story about a legendary Edo-era sculptor told with puppets that look chiseled from the same block, grain and tool marks left visible so every character reads as one of Jingoro's own works come to life. The prosthetic right arm, built to replace what his senior apprentices took along with his foster parent, does not just swing a blade, it does carpentry violence, and Sleeping Cat lopes alongside him like a Nikko carving that got bored of its perch. It runs a handful of minutes and moves with more weight and intention than most seasonal shows manage in a cour. This is a pilot, a pitch, a plea for someone to fund the rest. Watch it, then get annoyed with the rest of us that the feature still is not here.
A legendary carpenter from Edo-period Japan carries nothing but rage and a mechanical arm. Jingoro lost everything to his own apprentices: his guardian, his limb, his former life. Now he moves through the country as a left-handed artisan of violence, his prosthetic hand gripping carpentry tools transformed into weapons. A cat sleeps perpetually at his side, indifferent to the bloodshed around them. The men who wronged him scattered across Japan, and Jingoro hunts them one by one. His reputation grows with each confrontation, and soon whispers follow him: the one-armed craftsman, the one they call Hidari. People marvel at his impossible skill, the way he sculpts death with only his left hand where others would need two. Now he stands before Inumaru, one of the architects of his suffering. This is no duel between artists. This is reckoning painted in violence and carved in bone. History will remember him as a ghost, but right now, in this moment, he is very much alive.