Kubo and the Two Strings is a Damn Masterpiece

I am an emotionally susceptible person. I have been wracked with such loud, echoing sobs during movies, movies like About Time and Finding Dory, that my wife has been deeply embarrassed to be in my company. At About Time I cried so hard that I couldn't get air into my lungs, and a sound came out of me that was like the chuffing cough of a large dog, but with the amp cranked up to 11. This is because I am emotionally susceptible, and it's important that you know this about me before you listen to me talk about Kubo and the Two Strings, the newest product by the folks at the Laika stop motion animation studio. It is important that you know this about me because when I tell you that Kubo and the Two Strings is maybe the best film of the year, a tour de force, and a masterwork of visual storytelling; that its score is intensely moving, that its images inspire wonder and occasionally slack-jawed awe, and that its story pierces to the quick and sensitive parts of your soul, it is important that you know that this is not the attempt of a dispassionate critic to opine on intricate points of technical mastery. It is the opinion of a person who went into a movie theater and was deeply moved.