Isao Takahata’s Grave of the Fireflies

In Miyazaki World, Susan Napier argues Japan’s traumatic national experiences during WWII, especially the incendiary bombings, was a formative influence of Hayao Miyazaki’s work. Clearly, this was also true for his Studio Ghibli colleague Isao Takahata. In fact, the war hit much closer to home for Takahata, who fled a bombing raid over Okayama in his bare feet. It was an experience that directly informs his great 1988 masterwork, Grave of the Fireflies (trailer here), which opens this Friday at the Quad.

14-year-old-ish Seita was supposed to take his five-year-old sister Setsuko to meet their mother in the bomb shelter. Ironically, they survived because he delayed too long and did not make it to the ill-fated bunker in time. However, it is questionable whether this can be described as good fortune. Instead, Seita will be forced to fend for himself and his sister in an increasingly callous and chaotic world.

For a while, the siblings find refuge with an aunt they hardly know, but her cold, mercenary reserve soon turns into overt hostility. It quickly becomes clear that brother and sister will have to survive the war and its aftermath on their own. Sadly, the in media res prologue does not give viewers cause for optimism on that score.

Takahata’s adaptation of Akiyuki Nosaka’s autobiographical novella has a well-deserved reputation as the most emotionally devastating animated film maybe ever. Basically, it is like spreading the intensity and sorrow of Bambi’s mother’s death over an entire feature. Even if you have a heart of stone, you will feel for the two youngsters and be moved by their love for each other. In all honesty, it is hard to find any aspect of Grave that could be considered a defense or white-washing of the Imperial military regime, but the only horrors of war depicted are those suffered by Japan. As a result, the film has sometimes stirred controversy in countries formerly occupied by Japan, where references to the war invariably provoke vehement responses. Yet, it is hard to conceive of a film less likely to inspire jingoistic militarism.

Even though she is animated, Setsuko is such a believable five-year-old, it is deeply distressing to watch her when the film reaches the third act. At times, Seita approaches martyr-like levels of devotion to Setsuko, but Takahata gives him just enough flaws and annoying teenager moments to keep him human. Regardless, Takahata is definitely going for emotional extremes rather than psychological subtleties.

The animation is consistently an unusually expressive means to that end. We always understand what the two main characters feel, quite acutely. Yet, some of the backdrops are quite beautiful and strikingly cinematic. This is truly a classic example of Studio Ghibli’s uncompromising production standards.

Grave is the sort of film that transcends labels. It is not just an important animated film. It is a significant work of cinema, of any genre or format. It is Takahata’s career-defining masterpiece—or at least it was until he finally finished The Tale of Princess Kaguya. Very highly recommended, Grave of the Fireflies opens this Friday (1/4) in New York, at the Quad Cinema.

NYICFF ’18: Horus, Prince of the Sun

He is a young man of destiny, who will reclaim his legacy with the help of a sword that he dislodged from stone. These might sound like familiar fantasy tropes, but the Norse/Slavic flavor and Ainu inspiration would still make it rather distinctive. However, the adventure of Hols takes on enormous historical significance, because it represents the first feature length work of revered animator Hayao Miyazaki and his legendary collaborator Isao Takahata. It is a forerunner to so many beloved Studio Ghibli masterworks, but there is also plenty of ripping good adventure to enjoy in Takahata’s Horus, Prince of the Sun, which celebrates its fiftieth anniversary with screenings during the 2018 New York International Children’s Film Festival.

Hols (or Horus or whatever) is young, but he has a bold spirit that impresses Rockoar, the unfortunately named stone giant (say it to yourself a couple times), especially after the lad manages to pull the legendary Sword of the Sun out of the giant’s shoulder. In fact, the giant prophesies greatness for the boy, but first he must re-forge the sword. He will also have to endure trials and tribulations, starting with the death of his father.

With his dying breathe, the old man urges him to find and rebuild their ancestral village up north that was destroyed by Grunwald, a wintery demonic figure. Recognizing a fantasy hero when he sees one, Grunwald first tries to coopt Hols and then leaves him for dead. He is unsuccessful at both. Soon thereafter, Hols saves a communal fishing village from a number of beastly threats. However, Grunwald will have more success when his siren-voiced little sister infiltrates the village, with Hols’ oblivious help, to insidiously undermine his position.

As a work of cinema analyzed from a strictly formalistic perspective, Horus is a well-paced fantasy, whose primary characters, Hols and Hilda, are quite psychologically sophisticated. There is plenty of action, including the motion-comic effect (panning and scanning over panoramic still tableaux) Takahata effectively uses to render the big battle scenes. Although it is not as visually rich as the work Miyazaki would do at Ghibli, there are still plenty cool images, most definitely including Rockoar.

However, to fully appreciate Horus, imagine seeing it when it was originally released in 1968. As a genre, fantasy was basically Tolkien novels and Hercules movies. Sword of Shannara had not been published yet. The first edition of Dungeons & Dragons had not yet been released. No Wheel of Time, no Game of Thrones, no Stormlight Archive. Nor had anime made much penetration into the western market yet, with the syndication of thin-edges-of-the-wedge Star Blazers and Battle of the Planets years away. It terms of what it was and what it led to, Horus is arguably an under-heralded milestone.

By the way, it is also fun. It zips along, but there are also some real emotional stakes. If you really want to go there, there are even parallels that could be drawn between Hols, Hilda, and Grunwald, with Luke, Leia, and Anakin Skywalker, but to really do it justice requires spoilery analysis of various lines, in various translations. (Nevertheless, it is exactly the sort of film Lucas would have inhaled in his film student days, so who knows?) The important thing is it holds up heroically. Highly recommended for any anime fan, Horus, Prince of the Sun screens again this Saturday (3/10) and Sunday (3/11) as part of the New York International Children’s Film Festival.

The Red Turtle: A Studio Ghibli Co-Production

Island life is an unremittingly harsh struggle against nature in Kaneto Shindo’s black-and-white docu-tone poem The Naked Island. However, it has its charms as well as its dangers for an animated castaway, whose story is maybe not so stylistically dissimilar. It is the sort of meditative, archetypal tale we rarely see in feature animation, but Studio Ghibli is/was like no other animation production house. Just when we have resigned ourselves to their long-term, possibly permanent development hiatus, they release their first legitimate international co-production. Directed by London-based Dutch animator Michaël Dudok de Wit and crediting the great Isao Takahata as “artistic producer,” The Red Turtle (trailer here) is another masterwork from all involved, which is now playing a special one-week Oscar-qualifying run in New York and Los Angeles.

There is nothing beautiful about the storm-churned waves battering the unnamed man through the sea. It is practically a miracle when he comes to on a proverbial desert island, but whenever he tries to sail away on a makeshift raft, a mysterious giant sea turtle blocks his way. Just as he starts to get rough with the beast, he notices a shy but obviously pretty woman, who is presumably a castaway herself. This changes everything.

What follows is a deceptively simple story that is deep as the ocean surrounding their idyllic isle and ultimately serves as a metaphor for absolutely everything. It is told without a word of dialogue, but there is plenty of emotional engagement. Indeed, the pay-off is achingly beautiful.

It would be unwise to reveal too much about the graceful narrative, but it should be safe to say Red Turtle probably boasts the most intense tsunami scene rendered to date in any film, of any genre. It also captures the beauty of nature and inexplicable bond human-animal bond. Dudok de Wit’s style is simpler and more evocative than the rich lushness that often distinguishes Studio Ghibli productions, but his visuals are still striking, in a way that is spare and even Spartan, yet undeniably gorgeous.

It also sounds incredible, thanks to the soaring themes of composer Laurent Perez Del Mar and the extraordinarily lifelike ambient sound (supervised by Bruno Seznec). This film should not only be a strong contender for the animated Academy Award. It truly deserves to be nominated in all the audio categories as well.

The Red Turtle is the capper on a remarkable year for animation, which included characteristically terrific GKIDS releases like Miss Hokusai, Phantom Boy, and April and the Extraordinary World, as well as Funimation really raising their game with Mamoru Hosoda’s The Boy and the Beast and the first two Project Itoh anime adaptations. Yet, arguably, it is way more commercial than even Disney or Pixar products. Frankly, the potential audience for Red Turtle is anyone who bought Life of Pi or Jonathan Livingston Seagull back in the day, but Dudok de Wit’s animation will hold up much stronger over time. Very highly recommended, The Red Turtle is now playing at the Lincoln Plaza in New York, with a return engagement already scheduled for January 20^th.

Only Yesterday: It was Worth the Wait

At twenty-seven, Taeko Okajima ought to be too young for a midlife crisis, but she carries a lot of baggage from her difficult childhood. However, she might finally start to work through her issues when she lugs her “fifth grade self” along on her vacation to the countryside. Although it was a Japanese box office hit in 1991, Isao Takahata’s animated memory play remained the one Studio Ghibli film that was never theatrically distributed in North American. Fortunately, GKIDS has rectified this frustrating situation with a proper release of Takahata’s straight-up masterpiece Only Yesterday (trailer here) which continues it special two-week, twenty-fifth anniversary release in New York, at the IFC Center.

Okajima’s desire to vacation in the country can be immediately attributed to the frustrations of her childhood. As she boards the train taking her out of Tokyo, she remembers with bitterness being the only member of her fifth grade class who did not have a country getaway lined-up for summer break. Her parents seemed to have two specialties, berating her for her low marks in mathematics and dashing her dreams. However, young Okajima is not the perfect picture of innocence either. In fact, the memories that will be most difficult to work through involve her guilt for mistreating less popular classmates.

In contrast, her time spent with her bother-in-law’s rugged country relations is quite pleasant for Okajima. She genuinely enjoys harvesting the safflowers, a blooming thistle whose pigments are used for cosmetics and dyes. She and Toshio (the second cousin of her sister’s husband) hit it off particularly well. There could even be something more than friendship between them, but it is not clear Okajima’s head is ready for it.

You do not see very many films, live action or animated, that are as emotionally complex as Only Yesterday. While the 1966 flashbacks were based on a successful manga, Takahata developed the original 1980s wrap-arounds, which really take on a life of their own. In fact, seeing the psychological ripple effects years later make the childhood sequences far richer. Consequently, when Takahata delivers the massive payoff, it happens in the eighties.

Of course, Only Yesterday looks absolutely gorgeous. Studio Ghibli’s affinity for safflower fields hardly needs explaining for their fans. The figures are also rendered with unusual sensitivity, particularly 1980s Taeko and Toshio. If you do not quickly take a shine to them, you must be one grumpy old goat. Yet, what really stands out in the film is Takahata’s confident patience to let dialogue fully play out. Early in the film, Toshio and Okajima have a long conversation while he drives her to the farm from the station. It deceptively sounds like small talk, but it really establishes both their characters, as well as the film’s major themes. Frankly, they are just worth listening to.

For the English dub, GKIDS scored a bit of a coup with the casting of Daisy Ridley, currently seen in something called The Force Awakes, as the voice of twenty-seven year old Okajima. However, Japanese pop singer Miki Imai is so perfect in the role, it is still worth opting for the subtitled original version (which the IFC Center is also running for the film’s screenings after 8:00 pm).

Some animation fans consider Only Yesterday a watershed for its mature and realistic portrayal of a woman in adulthood. That may well be so, but it is such a human and humane film, just about everyone ought to be able to relate to it. A wonderful example of studio Ghibli’s artistry, Only Yesterday continues its special, worth-the-wait engagement at the IFC Center, with a national release later scheduled for February 26^th.

DOC NYC ’14: The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness

For millions of animation fans, Studio Ghibli is like Disney without the weird cryogenic baggage. Year after year, Hayao Miyazaki and his team of animators have produced absolute classics that transcend genre. He has now apparently, by-and-large, for the most part, more-or-less retired, but Mami Sunada documented the master at work on his final masterwork, The Wind Rises. Sunada quietly observes the Studio Ghibli comings and goings, but still captures plenty of drama in The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

Studio Ghibli might only continue as a licensing company, but it ended its original productions on artistic high notes. Both Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises and Isao Takahata’s The Tale of the Princess Kaguya are extraordinarily accomplished capstones to their legendary careers. While Miyazaki’s farewell film was a monster hit at the Japanese box-office, Takahata’s was not. They were also supposed to be released simultaneously, but even at the start of Kingdom, everyone realizes that is highly unlikely to happen.

While there is plenty of pencil-sharpening and studious sketching going on in Kingdom, real conflict emerges between the venerable Miyazaki and the largely unseen Takahata, who gave Miya-san his start in the business decades ago at the Tohei studio. They share an awful lot of history together, but their working methods could not be further apart.

Somehow, as Sunada illustrates in detail, Miyazaki is able to put inspiration on a timetable, which you have to respect, because he made Spirited Away. In contrast, it happens when it happens for Takahata, which you have to respect, because he made Grave of the Fireflies—unless you happen to be Miyazaki. Even though Sunada observes events almost entirely from Miyazaki’s perspective, it is clear their relationship is very complicated. While the film consistently shows how comfortable Miyazaki is in his role as part studio task-master and part twinkly-eyed ambassador of goodwill, whenever Takahata’s delays are mentioned, he sounds like Seinfeld cursing “Newman.” Yet, with his next breath, he is likely to praise his former mentor’s past achievements.

That strange dynamic truly elevates Kingdom above yet another dry process doc, like Farocki’s Sauerbruch Hutton Architects. It also helps that director-editor-cinematographer Sunada is a legit filmmaker with an eye for the telling moment rather than an overawed fan cranking out a DVD extra. As when she chronicled her father’s final days in Death of a Japanese Salesman, she is quite sensitively attuned to the human drama that accompanies any sort of finality.

There are very few animated clips seen throughout Kingdom, which speaks highly of Sunada’s confidence in her subjects. It is justified. Miyazaki is a thoroughly engaging presence, as are longtime producer Ghibli producer-peacemaker Toshio Suzuki and Evangelion animator Hideaki Anno, who gave voice to The Wind Rises’ idealistic protagonist. Sunada documents some true cinema history, ultimately marking the end of an era. A fitting coda to a great career, The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness is recommended for all serious students of animation when it screens this Sunday morning (11/16) at the SVA Theatre, as part of DOC NYC 2014.

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya: the Penultimate Studio Ghibli Film

It is a quite a story of social mobility, especially for Tenth Century Japan. Of course, it is a folktale, but it is considered the Japan’s oldest surviving narrative (even predating The Tale of Genji). It inspired adaptations from the likes of Kon Ichikawa, but the lush, budgets-be-damned Studio Ghibli treatment may very well come to be recognized as the definitive big screen production of “The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter.” Representing most likely the penultimate release from the storied studio, Isao Takahata’s The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (trailer here) opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

One day, Okina, the stout-hearted bamboo cutter, discovered a miniature princess dressed up in regal finery within one of the shoots he had chopped. Taking her home to his wife Ona, the precious princess transforms into the infant they never had. Miraculously, Ona discovers she is still able to nurse the baby they presume to be heaven-sent. “Princess,” as Okina simply calls her, grows up quickly, soon maturing to the level of the nearest children, who affectionately call her “Bamboo.” She loves the simple pleasures of nature and the company of her rambunctious friends. However, Okina believes his faith in her royal destiny is vindicated when he discovers miraculous caches of gold and silk in yet more fateful bamboo shoots.

Okina uses the gold to build a palatial estate in the capitol, buying his way into elite society. Unfortunately, his worldly ideas of happiness are at odds with her more spiritual conceptions. Despite her love for her adopted parents, Princes Kaguya, as she has been officially dubbed, consistently foils his plans to codify her royal status. Eventually, her ensuing unhappiness will have cosmic repercussions.

It is hard to imagine another animated film prominently featuring a princess that is as likely to frustrate young Frozen fans as Princess K surely will. It is an extraordinarily elegant, visually arresting film, but it is also exquisitely tragic, unabashedly literate, and rich with symbolic texture. It additionally represents some of accomplished Japanese film composer Joe Hisaishi’s most distinctive work, but the entire film is probably too sophisticated, in an almost rarified way, to garner much Oscar love in any category.

Regardless, Princess K is a stunning example that animation can truly be a work of art. Takahata’s hand-drawn animation evokes the austere beauty of traditional Japanese watercolor, but the resolution and color palate shift to reflect Kaguya’s emotional state. Dramatically, it is a disciplined slow-builder, earning every tear it jerks down the stretch, fair and square.

Frankly, it is easy to get stuck on the ethereal beauty of Princess K, but there is an awful lot going on beneath the surface. Kaguya represents a refreshingly independent-minded and psychologically complex princess, particularly during the Heian era. Arguably, it is also the first science fiction story ever, taking into account Kaguya’s full origin, which is only revealed late in the third act. It is easily the best new animated film of the year, unless you also count Hayao Miyazaki’s Studio Ghibli release, The Wind Rises (which had a brief Oscar qualifying run late last year). Very highly recommended for mainstream audiences as well as animation enthusiasts, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya opens this Friday (10/17) at the IFC Center, with special preview screenings scheduled for tonight and tomorrow night.