Castle in the Sky (1986)
Hayao Miyazaki's follow up to Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind shares many similarities with its predecessor. Like Nausicaa, Castle in the Sky is set in a fantasy world that is equally of the past and the future. 19th century mining towns and farms exist alongside futuristic flying airships. The world of Castle in the Sky is designed with a steampunk aesthetic, equally inspired by medieval and Victorian European architecture and Flash Gordon sci-fi serials. Also like Nausicaa, Castle in the Sky has thinly veiled anti-nuclear power themes, along with Miyazaki's usual concern for respect and conservation of the natural world. However, Castle in the Sky is a breezier film than Nausicaa - more of a simple adventure story, where Nausicaa was a complex, Campbellian epic. It's still an adventure on a huge scale, but one that tells a straightforward good vs. evil story with broad humor and lighthearted characters.
It's a terrific adventure story too, a thrilling swashbuckler set in the endless skies instead of the high seas. Miyazaki's love of flight finds perhaps its most joyous expression here. The majority of Castle in the Sky takes place among the clouds - he clearly delights in animating a variety of retro-futuristic flying machines, and the landscape of the sky with its drifting clouds and roiling storms. Laputa, the titular castle in the sky (its name taken from Jonathan Swift's flying island in Gulliver's Travels), is one of Miyazaki's most marvelous creations. Laputa is an Atlantis of the sky, a lost city capable of terrible power. It's been overtaken by nature, watched over by a lone robot who tends to its vast gardens, a proto WALL-E. Miyazaki's imagination, and his skill in bringing his imaginings to life with rich beauty and detail, is astonishing.
Hayao Miyazaki's follow up to Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind shares many similarities with its predecessor. Like Nausicaa, Castle in the Sky is set in a fantasy world that is equally of the past and the future. 19th century mining towns and farms exist alongside futuristic flying airships. The world of Castle in the Sky is designed with a steampunk aesthetic, equally inspired by medieval and Victorian European architecture and Flash Gordon sci-fi serials. Also like Nausicaa, Castle in the Sky has thinly veiled anti-nuclear power themes, along with Miyazaki's usual concern for respect and conservation of the natural world. However, Castle in the Sky is a breezier film than Nausicaa - more of a simple adventure story, where Nausicaa was a complex, Campbellian epic. It's still an adventure on a huge scale, but one that tells a straightforward good vs. evil story with broad humor and lighthearted characters.
It's a terrific adventure story too, a thrilling swashbuckler set in the endless skies instead of the high seas. Miyazaki's love of flight finds perhaps its most joyous expression here. The majority of Castle in the Sky takes place among the clouds - he clearly delights in animating a variety of retro-futuristic flying machines, and the landscape of the sky with its drifting clouds and roiling storms. Laputa, the titular castle in the sky (its name taken from Jonathan Swift's flying island in Gulliver's Travels), is one of Miyazaki's most marvelous creations. Laputa is an Atlantis of the sky, a lost city capable of terrible power. It's been overtaken by nature, watched over by a lone robot who tends to its vast gardens, a proto WALL-E. Miyazaki's imagination, and his skill in bringing his imaginings to life with rich beauty and detail, is astonishing.
My Neighbor Totoro (1988)
A big change of direction in Miyazaki's career. My Neighbor Totoro is unlike Miyazaki's previous films - where they were expansive, packed with action and conflict, Totoro is small in scope and essentially plotless. Despite its fantasy elements, Totoro exists in a real time and place, Japan in the 1950s. There are no villains, no battles, no big conflicts - just a regular family and a few magical creatures, whose existence is casually accepted.
Even those who have never seen a Miyazaki film might recognize Totoro, who has become internationally iconic. And no wonder - he's such an adorably designed creature, with his fat, round body, short arms and legs, and expressive mouth and eyes, which can be tiny or huge depending on his mood.
His behavior makes him even more endearing. I suspect that the best children's characters - Winnie the Pooh is another example - take themselves entirely seriously, no matter how comical they are. Totoro is never buffoonish or a jokester. Even in his most absurd moments - being alarmed by a toddler's roar despite his enormous size, attempting to keep dry from the rain by placing a small leaf on his head - he's very serious, which makes him all the more lovable. Part of Totoro's appeal, too, is that he's never explained. Is he a forest spirit? Is he a figment of the children's imagination? Miyazaki does not give him a backstory, or any psychological explanation. He just is. The young protagonists accept his existence with quick delight, and children watching the film will, too. Some things are more enchanting when left unexplained.
He's not the only wonderful creature in the film, either. There are the smaller Totoros, nervous and bunny-like in appearance, who scuttle after their giant friend like ducklings. Then there's the Catbus, a twelve-legged feline transport for the spirit world, with eyes like headlights and furry seats on the inside. His enormous Cheshire grin is mildly frightening and delightfully weird.
Every time one of these magical beings appears, My Neighbor Totoro rises to a whole new level of delight - but even without them, this would have been a great film. My Neighbor Totoro might be the best film about childhood ever made. The two central characters, young sisters, are among the most convincing children in animation. They act like real, energetic kids, exploring their new house and its grounds with ecstatic happiness and curiosity. Satsuki, the eldest, is the smart, responsible elder sister. She loves her sister and watches out for her, despite occasional annoyance with her. Mei is the younger sibling, always following Satsuki and clumsily imitating all she does and says. Mei in particular is a triumph of character animation. Her features may be cartoonish, but there is incredible realism to her expressions and movements. When she runs, stumbles, and crawls, she has the life-like physicality of a toddler, something that I imagine must be difficult to capture in animation.
My Neighbor Totoro is all about the everyday feelings and sensations of being a kid. How the smallest things could be a source of wonder - an acorn discovered on the ground, wiggling your fingers at tadpoles in a puddle; or of fear - a dark staircase leading to an attic, a storm shaking the windowpanes. It also expresses the uncomprehending sadness of children that life can sometimes be unfair. Satsuki and Mei's beloved mother is in the hospital for an extended stay, and both are afraid and angry that she cannot be safe at home. A scene where Mei cries in scared frustration is heart-piercing without resorting to any melodrama or manipulation, the moment just seems so real. With perhaps the exception of Malick's Tree of Life, I've never seen children represented so well on film. Even more so than its cuddly creatures, I suspect that is the true reason why My Neighbor Totoro strikes a chord with so many people. In many of its particulars it's very tied to Japanese life and culture, but it captures something universally relatable and deeply human.
The animation is just gorgeous, too. The animation style is softer than Miyazaki's previous films, with less bold colors and clear lines. Many frames look like a watercolor painting. My Neighbor Totoro beautifully evokes the Japanese countryside, the green foliage and fields, the buzzing insects, the changing quality of light as long afternoons draw to a close.
If it's not already obvious, My Neighbor Totoro is a movie that I hold dear. I loved it as a kid, and still do as an adult. It's a modest but masterful work of art.
