Spoilers…
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The man is incomparable. There’s not a single one of his films that I haven’t cried while watching, whether it’s Princess Nausicaa’s bravery and self-sacrifice when trying to stop the baby Ohmu from crawling wounded into the acid lake, Marco’s vision of his dead friends and enemies rising in their bi-planes to heaven (or hell, as he puts it), the last charge of the boar gods into a valley riddled with landmines, the ceramic robot tending the gardens of Laputa long after the civilisation’s decay, and Chiro’s tacit realisation that Haku is the dragon as he is chased by the paper birds. I find my eyes filling and my shoulders shaking without really knowing why, I’m being moved at a level that’s well outside my ability to understand…
Thematically he’s faultless. Exceptionally strong female leads, a critique of the influence of technology, wonder and reverence for the natural world and an unflinching depiction of its ruining at the hands of man, a strong work ethic, the elevation of respect and relationships, the magic of the everyday (Kiki staying late on a delivery to help with the baking) mixed with the magic of the imagination (the mythologised history lesson in the opening credits of Laputa). He seldom paints morality as black and white: in the hands of a lesser filmmaker Princess Kushana and Lady Eboshi are likely to have been depicted without the redeeming features he gives them, without any complex motivations.
Then there’s the storytelling. I’ve never quite seen anything to compare with the beauty of the final act of Spirited Away outside of shamanic journey experiences: the train journey to Swamp Bottom is so finely realised and full of a kind of painful sadness that it’s impossible not to think that the place actually exists somewhere. The epic scope of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind with its thousand year post apocalyptic history told in its opening sequence is an act of compression that never once feels like a cold device or clumsy exposition. Then compare this to the simplicity of My Neighbour Totoro, a fantasy of two girls as they deal with their separation from their mother (indeed, the story of exactly why their mother is in hospital is left to the closing credits, but never leaves you short-changed or lacking closure).
Miyazaki’s art of characterisation is equally detailed and subtle, never more so than in his depiction of Mei from Totoro. Every nuance of body language, every inflection in the voice acting is perfect. The way she copies her older sister, gets in a huff, plays in the garden, bursts into tears, expresses her sense of being lost: it’s all captured with such a sense of love and enjoyment of the craft of making an imagined person seem utterly real. I defy anyone not to aspire to be like Princess Nausicaa, or feel all Kiki’s triumphs and tragedies along with her.
I could rave about the art, the score and the voice acting (just listen to the gods in Princess Mononoke). I could marvel at his ability to pitch to his audience without ever once being condescending or simplistic (the cat in Kiki never gets his voice back). A list of all the scenes and moments that have touched me in some way would fill this forum. I believe wholeheartedly that his films depict the absolute best way of living in community and with nature. His wisdom leaves the viewer with something to aspire to, something to chase after.
It’s not too hard to track down a Studio Ghibli boxed set with most of his movies (plus Pom Poko and Grave of the Fireflies) for very little cash, and I recommend to everyone reading this to do just that. These are movies to base your life on.
The world is a better place after seeing a Miyazaki film.
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End spoilers. |
