Reviewed 9/20/1999
The Museum of Modern Art's look at Japan's Studio Ghibli by screening nine of its feature films is eye-opening. Directors Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata founded Ghibli in 1984 shortly after Takahata produced and Miyazaki directed Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, often noted as one of Japan's great anime features. Anime purists often cite the heavily-edited U.S. version called Warriors of the Wind as a gross injustice done to Nausicaä, but MoMA is showing the full original version. A few of Miyazaki's features are available on video here in the U.S., but seeing them on the big screen is a wholly different and astounding experience.
While Miyazaki is sometimes called the "Walt Disney of Japan," that label is only appropriate in pointing out that Miyazaki is as great an economic force in animated films in Japan as Disney was in the U.S. But to denote similarities between their films, the label is misleading. First off, Miyazaki's films are not musicals, though music can play a big role in his films. Next, Miyazaki's protagonists are always human (even Porco Rosso), not anthropomorphic animals (though these exist as side characters in some of his films). And unlike most Disney films, Miyazaki's movies have an adult depth in their themes and subtlety. Some of his films are not directed specifically at children at all (though this is not unusual at all for animated films in Japan). Miyazaki deals with owning up to one's heritage in Laputa: Castle in the Sky (1986), the possibility of losing a parent in Tonari no Totoro (1988), the difficulties of making a living in Kiki's Delivery Service (1989), and Italian fascism in Porco Rosso (1984).
The one enduring concern running through all Miyazaki films is the importance of nature and humanity's balancing its needs with nature's. This is explicit in Nausicaä and Princess Mononoke (1997), and implicit in Totoro. Miyazaki's ecological concern shows up in his films as a sense of wonder in the environment -- the camphor tree in Totoro, the sea side in Kiki, even the giant insects in Nausicaä. The difference between the sense of wonder of today's Disney films and Miyazaki's is that Disney goes for spectacle while Miyazaki goes for reverence. This reverence appears in the long takes of establishing shots, often as tracking shots. It's also in his films' unhurried pacing, and his characters are often framed in such a way as to be dwarfed by their environment.
Miyazaki's films have other idiosyncracies. His protagonists are usually strong young women, many of his films are absorbed with the sky and flying, and his end credits come with scenes or stills of events occuring after the end of the main story, so one should always stay to the end of his movies.
Tonari no Totoro is Miyazaki's best film and his personal favorite. Two young girls, Satsuki and Mei Kasukabe, move to a new home in the country with their father while their mother is ill in the hospital. Totoro goes into that category of great films that truly capture what it is like to be a child. But unlike such masterpieces as Hope and Glory and Forbidden Games, Totoro's children are animated, making it all the more unusual. Upon arriving at their new home, Satsuki and Mei scramble all over it, exploring every niche. The movie makes a piece of old rotted wood the girls come upon seem like an amazing discovery. Before long, Mei has an Alice in Wonderland experience, tumbling down a "rabbit hole" into the arms of Totoro, an ancient forest spirit. The humongous Totoro looks something like a panda crossed with a rabbit or owl. Totoro's character design is marvelous with his great paws, gigantic mouth and teeth, enormous whiskers, and immense tail. Just as astounding is a 12-legged cat bus that appears later.
The characters in Totoro have no set goal and the "story," if one wants to call it such, is rather aimless, but this does not hurt the film in the least. Its pace is leisurely and relaxed. Instead of a plot, what we get are little vivid details of life. In one brief scene, Mr. Kasukabe is working at his desk and in the background, Mei is playing outside, then she is asking her father if it's time for lunch (though they just ate), then he discovers flowers on his desk and finds the short Mei underneath supplying them.
Mei's expressions are priceless, and the way she's drawn, she moves just like a four-year old. She acts like a four-year old too, imitating her bigger sister and always wanting to be with her, even at school. Ten-year old Satsuki is more mature, but no less in awe of everything around her. Then there is the local boy Kanta who loses all speech in Satsuki's presence and can only communicate with her by either sticking out his tongue or thrusting gifts into her hands.
Totoro is highlighted by a masterful scene of the two girls waiting in
the rain for their father at a bus stop. Nothing much really happens as Mei stomps in a
puddle, a lamp light comes on in the darkness, a bicyclist passes by, Satsuki puts Mei on
her back as Mei begins falling asleep, a toad crawls in the mud. Suddenly, Satsuki finds
Totoro standing next to her also waiting in the rain. What happens next is pure
enchantment, but even before the supernatural has appeared, Miyazaki has marvelously
succeeded in establishing the serene mood of a rainy day at dusk. The sound design of just
the right level of rain with inklings of music (by Jô Hisaishi) contributes as much as
the visuals.