Showing posts with label studio ghibli. Show all posts
Showing posts with label studio ghibli. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

The Wind Rises (2013) Review



Lucas Versantvoort / January 30, 2015

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are experiencing some storytelling difficulties, so unfortunately our film won’t get interesting take off any time soon. See how I combined plot and aviation into one joke? Huehuehue… Seriously though, I don’t know what I was expecting Miyazaki’s last directorial effort to be, but it sure wasn’t this.
The Wind Rises is a fictionalized account of Jiro Horikoshi, a famous Japanese airplane engineer. The film starts during his childhood years where he finds out he’s nearsighted and is thus unable to become a pilot. Instead, he decides to design planes instead. He joins a company in 1927 with his friend and colleague and he designs planes that were truly groundbreaking at the time (though don’t ask me about the specifics). Around this time he also meets his future wife…who has tuberculosis. If that’s not enough, his designs are eventually used during WWII. Jiro also has recurring dreams about meeting Caproni, another aircraft designer. Wow, a surprisingly messy plot summary…
Now, it’s obvious to anyone that Miyazaki’s films are characterized first and foremost by flights of imagination and fantasy. This is what’s made him so popular over the years. It’s also precisely why The Wind Rises is so interesting, since you notice it carries an air of maturity given the historical themes on display. Quite a break from his previous efforts. There’s even an implied sex scene. Of course, Miyazaki has made a name for himself with his representations of ecological and feminist themes etc., so it’s not to say he was never ‘mature’, it’s just that he often packaged those themes in kid-friendly fare. Now, he’s adapting a real life story filled with mature themes. Save for the Caproni dreams and the earthquake scene, there are no flights of fancy fantasy. It’s all much more grounded and slow-paced. But it’s also where things take a turn for the worse.
Let’s take a look at some of the themes at work here: we’ve got the ‘science abused by governments’ theme. This is the central tragedy of Jiro’s legacy, i.e. how his designs were used for warfare purposes in WWII, even though all he wanted to do was “create something beautiful”. We’ve got Work vs Family as exemplified by Jiro. We’ve got Love as seen in the relationship between Jiro and Naoko. These are all interesting themes, the first one obviously being the key theme of Jiro’s life as contrasted by his passion for planes. The problem, however, isn’t just that these themes aren’t really dealt with, but that sometimes they’re are also confusingly handled: for instance, you could either blame Jiro for indirectly contributing to Pearl Harbor or absolve him. When Caproni tells Jiro that planes are beautiful even if humanity uses them for inhuman purposes, does this mean Miyazaki absolves Jiro or is it a veiled criticism, stating that Jiro was too naïve? I couldn’t tell you. That’s my problem: it’s not that the themes aren’t present, they are, and I see what Miyazaki is aiming at, but I don’t think the film deals with these issues in a manner befitting this incredibly complex, rich and tragic history. Miyazaki occasionally slightly touches upon them and then hastily retreats to yet another Caproni dream or another uninteresting scene between Jiro and Naoko. I’m not saying the wise option would’ve been to turn the film into a politically centered thesis, but you can’t just adapt a story that inherently deals with these issues and not really deal with them.
So not only are the main themes inadequately and unsatisfyingly handled, the film’s portrayal of Jiro also tends to feel simplistic, which brings me to the second problem: characters. I’m going to come out and say I didn’t really care for Jiro as the film presents him in such a boring way. He’s always this quiet reserved man and that’s fine, but where’s the conflict? The inner turmoil? The self-doubting? I know there are scenes like this, but they don’t seem to affect his actions overall. There is no character arc. Not only that, but he never ‘makes mistakes’. By that I mean we mostly see him as a classic Hero. He endlessly carries a young girl (Naoko, his future wife) on his back during the earthquake. As a kid he judo throws a bully, you know, so the audience realizes he’s a morally righteous guy. After all, nothing screams ‘quiet character piece with political undertones’ than judo throwing a bully. Even worse is Naoko, the token love interest. I can’t remember anything about her besides her desire to ‘stand by her man’. The sequence where they fall in love is way too short to be believable or even likable and that’s not to mention her tuberculosis which is code for ‘I’ll be dead soon.’ So clichéd, so uninteresting. There are people out there who actually consider this relationship heartbreaking. Really!? What’s worse is that these scenes have nothing to do with and detract from the two key themes: flight and the tragedy of Jiro’s designs eventually being used in WWII. The whole thing just feels forced, like Miyazaki realized his story risked being one-note if he didn’t throw in the requisite romantic subplot. To make matters worse, according to various articles, real life Naoko didn’t even suffer from TB which renders the whole thing as being nothing more than pointless melodrama. So clichéd, so uninteresting.
In the end, I don’t feel like I got to know Jiro Horikoshi. Now, I don’t expect a film to encompass everything as that would be impossible, but these kinds of biopics are required to at least give you a distillated version of the protagonist’s life and I don’t feel they succeeded. All the nuances about Jiro’s life, how his planes were used during Pearl Harbor, etc., I discovered purely by reading web articles. That’s the vibe I’m getting: I feel like I could understand the film only after extensively reading about Jiro afterwards and how the film contains autobiographical elements from Miyazaki’s own life, rather than by letting the film speak for itself. Look, I get that The Wind Rises is part biopic, part meditation on how people’s inventions are used for evil purposes, but Miyazaki is unable to combine the two into a satisfying whole. Any knowledge on how the film secretly symbolizes Miyazaki’s own thoughts and doubts about his own life, Jiro and Japan’s role in WWII only serves to make me appreciate Miyazaki himself, but they don’t solve the problems inherent to the film. In the end, you can hide behind comments on how wonderful the animation is (which is what every review seems to do), but for me the amount of storytelling and pacing issues were enough to make the experience a very frustrating one.
One last thing: what I fear is that this film might’ve been praised primarily due to Miyazaki’s reputation, this being his last (quasi-autobiographical) film and that it was such a ‘mature’ departure from the norm for him, without actually analyzing the film itself. It’s ironic and a bit sad that this first true attempt at ‘mature’ storytelling by someone called Japan’s ‘master of animation’ should be quite disappointing. It makes me wonder what Ghibli director Isao Takahata would’ve done with this material.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

The Tale of Princess Kaguya (2013) Review


Lucas Versantvoort / 18 September 2014

Roughly 14 years after directing the underrated My Neighbors the Yamadas, director Isao Takahata finally releases his new film. Based on the oldest, and apparently most well-known folktale in Japan, The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. (spoilers) It details the life (and times) of Kaguya, a small girl who originates from a city on the moon, is sent to earth where she excels in the simple farm life, suffers under life as a lady in the city and eventually returns to the moon. It’s a story containing both realist and surreal elements, a combination that Takahata has perfected in his films. Though apparently a very popular tale in Japan, the story isn’t exactly blockbuster material. Nevertheless, Takahata follows his own vision and has crafted a highly effective film replete with all the love and care and obsessive attention to detail Studio Ghibli has become known for.
            We first see (what else) a bamboo cutter discovering a robed girl, Kaguya of course, as small as his hand in a forest. He takes her into his home with his wife where Kaguya grows abnormally fast. She lives a happy country life with friends etc. Eventually, the bamboo cutter cuts another bamboo tree and to his astonishment finds gold. He becomes something of a rich man and convinces his wife that by moving to the capital, they’ll finally be able to grant Kaguya the kind of life that will make her happy. Of course, life as a lady is only suffocating to the free-spirited Kaguya who alternates between having to learn and accept the lifestyle of a ‘proper lady’ and wanting to desperately escape the city.
            Saying a Studio Ghibli film looks amazing is as empty a statement as “the grass is green” or “the sky is blue”, fuckin’ duh. Takahata utilizes a palette consisting mostly of soft pastels and charcoal. Characters are drawn in minimalist, though highly distinct fashions. The soft pastels and charcoal textures aren’t just eye candy however, but fit with the story’s ancient origins, the film looking as if drawings on ancient Japanese scrolls were coming to life. As befits Takahata, visuals are also used to externally emphasize a character’s inner life and feelings. One particularly amazing scene, showing Kaguya desperately fleeing the capital, begins with pastels and charcoal, but soon grows more aggressive, with more and more harsh charcoal lines, reflecting Kaguya’s inner turmoil as she flees (see images). It’s quite simply one of those scenes where you realize you are at that very moment witnessing ‘art’ taking place in front of your eyes; in other words, the greatest thing you could possibly experience in a movie theater. (See screenshots below)
Personally, I can only level two complaints at the film: one, the surrealist aspect of the story was a bit hard to digest. I’m referring to the moment when Kaguya realizes she’s from the moon and has to return there. There’s something strange about watching a scene where she outright tells her ‘parents’ she’s from the moon when the film up until this point was highly realistic in tone, despite the surrealist opening scene where she’s found by the bamboo cutter. Two, the film is perhaps a tad too long. I have nothing against long (animated) films per se, but here I eventually felt exhaustion entering my body. I think this is an issue inherent to the story and the fact that it isn’t exactly the most varied plot. There are basically only two environments: the landscapes depicting nature and life in the city. As befitting Takahata’s later output, the tempo is quite slow and this will be hard for viewers who are unfamiliar with Takahata to digest. In its favor, I find the slow tempo to also be to the film’s benefit. Like Kaguya, the viewer also grows tired of the city’s endless parade of suitors and emphasis on etiquette.
I’ve read articles wherein several people question the point of this film. Why would Takahata adapt this story? After directing films like Grave of the Fireflies and Only Yesterday, why would he turn to Japan’s oldest folktale? I believe the reason can be found in the end of the film. At one point, Kaguya is hesitant to go back to the moon and leave earth and all she’s experienced. Even later, she has a small monologue about earthly life in general with all the beautiful and negative experiences she’s accumulated. The point she’s making is that despite the things she’s experienced during her days as a ‘lady’ in the city, she still loves earthly life. Think back to Takahata’s Only Yesterday with its positive outlook on people and life despite all the dramatic events. Both films prefer the honest farmer’s life as opposed to city life. Think back to Yamadas which is an even more overt celebration of daily life in all its normalcy. Kaguya fits easily within this most important of themes in Takahata’s filmography.

Stray observation: I think there’s symbolism to be found in the colors of the many robes the characters wear, though I’d have to see the film again to be sure.

Images taken from: