Writer, director, and co-composer of The Glassworker, Usman Riaz, worked on his inaugural animated film for over a decade. And the results show vividly in the finished feature, giving us a simultaneously intimate and grand story showcasing the beauty of art against the horrors of war.

With its gorgeous animation, meticulously poignant soundtrack, superb vocal performances, incorporation of magical realism, and more, The Glassworker is a stunning masterpiece of animation that stands easily alongside any of the greatest Studio Ghibli films.

While Riaz and his team likely take inspiration from the famous studio, they stand out with their own unique contributions to the medium, and making Pakistani and South Asian cinema stand out even more on the world stage.

Against the backdrop of a war engulfing his town, Waterfront, Vincent Oliver (Sacha Dhawan) is a glassworker apprentice learning the craft from his glassworker father Tomas (Art Malik), a stalwart artisan with a heavy disdain for war. Home-schooling his son, Vincent feels isolated until he meets Colonel Amano’s (Tony Jayawardena) daughter Alliz (Anjli Mohindra). Bonding over their mutual love of art, with her music and his glasswork, the two begin a bond that will transcend anything their families want for them, and perhaps help transform their war-stricken town as well.

Riaz, growing up in Pakistan during the ruinous wars waged on its neighbors, has, like his protagonists Vincent and Alliz, experienced the reverberations of conflict and the tears it could have on society. But art is a unifying balm, as Riaz makes clear through Vincent, his father, and Alliz. Tomas, an avowed and lone anti-war voice in his jingoistic town, buries himself constantly his craft, creating relatable friction with Vincent as the latter wants to engage more in society. But the love between father and son is deeply rooted as Vincent grows through the film to embody the best of his father’s ideals and stand out in his own character. All the characters Riaz and his co-writer Moya O’Shea crafted for the film are nuanced and multi-layered, even as they’re rooted in their rigid points of view.

Take Colonel Amano, for example, a warmonger we rightfully despise, but see layers of his own humanity with his family and daughter Alliz. Alliz, caught between her obligation to support the war efforts, her budding friendship with Vincent, and musical career, is a richly complex character who grows in her perception of the world outside of what others have set for her. The same can be said for Vincent as these co-protagonists must grow and actively choose their paths. The Glassworker is a magnificent encapsulation of these two young persons’ lives in the midst of their warmongering society, mirroring so much of what we see today.

We don’t get too many details of the war Waterfront is engaged in, but the film tells us that it is a war for resources, again mirroring why great powers wage war and engineer decimation today. Riaz ties this aspect smartly into the narrative for Vincent and Tomas, and their pursuit of art and resisting war. Tomas asks Vincent, and by extend the audience, what is it that we should want to build? Riaz asks us to look critically at our consumption, how we use resources, and how we want to actively invest our wealth. In our own world, with tech oligarchs, war profiteers, and others invested in war mongering and policing today, along with efforts at defunding of the arts, the message could not be more stark or timely. Riaz encourages us through his and O’Shea’s superb story to protect artistry with all our might.

Speaking of art, the sheer beauty of The Glassworker cannot be overstated. Every glass figure has the richest texture and detail, as Mano animation took special care with its titular artwork. Watching the film feels like going into a Swarovski shop, but even better with the dazzling designs and colors of all the glass. Waterfront, inspired by the traditional and post-colonial architecture of Pakistan, is a culturally rich setting, with bazaars, women wearing sarees, shalwar kameez, hijabs, and more. Even the war scenes are beautiful in their violence, with the fires raging on the landscape and the smoke choking soldiers’ lungs. Every frame of The Glassworker is a work of art unto itself, demanding your consistent attention.

While Pakistani informed, the film takes place in an entirely fictional setting. Riaz and his team certainly mean for most of the characters to be Pakistani-coded given their names, various complexions, clothing, and meals, including Vincent and his family. While Alliz and her family are clearly white or white-coded, they are also attuned to the culture, with Alliz’s mother wearing a Pakistani shawl, for instance. Whatever the reasoning for this, Pakistani culture shines as vibrantly though the film as it transports audiences away to its fantastical, yet realistic, setting.

The music of The Glassworker is as integral to the film as the glasswork. Riaz and his co-composer Carmine Diflorio‘s soundtrack is, like its story, intimate, grand, harrowing, and illuminating on the condition of the human spirit. In particular, Alliz’s solo violin performance has the hallmarks of ingenue and brilliance in its captivating composition. The Glassworker is a celebration of artistry, including and especially in its music.

If you live in New York City or Toronto starting this Friday, run, don’t walk to see The Glassworker in theaters. And go see it when it has widespread distribution across North America this September. With his inaugural film that he’s worked on for over 10 years, Riaz and his team have made a resounding contribution to animation and cinema, giving us a timeless tale with so, so much to say. In doing so, Riaz has already reached the peaks of Hayao Miyazaki. I can’t wait to watch it again and again.

Overall grade: A+

Representation grade: A+

The Glassworker will debut in select theaters in New York City and Toronto this Friday, with widespread distribution in North America this September.