This one goes straight for the box of stuff your parents threw out while you were at school. Production I.G built an entire world out of the junk you stopped loving, and Oblivion Island is stacked with it: teddy bears, model kits, picture books, a shining rock from the park, all hoarded by fox creatures who slip through a shrine torii to raid our forgetting. Haruka goes in after her mother's hand mirror, gets Teo as a reluctant guide, and the Baron sits at the top of it all like a landlord of everybody's abandoned childhood. Yes, the plot is thin, and yes, there are stretches where the 2009 CG is clearly showing off what it can do. But the showing off is gorgeous, and the premise earns it. You will walk out thinking about one specific object you can no longer find.
Haruka discovers that her cherished childhood teddy bear has vanished. Unlike most forgotten items, this one matters enough to chase. Following a mysterious trail, she slips into Oblivion Island: a dimension where forgotten treasures accumulate into an entire civilization built by creatures who collect what humans leave behind. These beings aren't malicious scavengers but archivists of nostalgia, preserving the objects people abandon as they grow older and move forward. Haruka navigates this strange world to reclaim her bear, but the journey becomes less about retrieval and more about confronting what it means to let go. She encounters the island's inhabitants, learns why they hoard these discarded memories, and questions whether some things deserve to be forgotten while others demand to be held onto. The film moves between whimsical and melancholic, presenting childhood memories as both sacred relics and weights we eventually shed. It's a meditation on growing up wrapped in adventure, asking whether leaving things behind is betrayal or necessity.