Author Archives: Kyle

About Kyle

My name is Kyle, and I'm just your average aspiring journalist who loves film and pop culture. Like, a lot. Seriously, it's unhealthy. This blog is the only thing that can make me well again.

Elysium: Shooting for the Stars

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When “Elysium” opens on a dirty, overpopulated Los Angeles circa 2154, it looks a whole lot like the dirty slums of Johannesburg in “District 9,” director Neill Blomkamp’s previous film. But that’s not the only similarity. The films share progressive social commentary, distractingly bloody violence and the comforting presence of actor Sharlto Copley.

But, while “District 9” was an intimate film with some grand ideas made on a relatively small budget, “Elysium” is about as ambitious as they come. Blomkamp has a larger budget, A-list actors and an obvious commentary on the 99 percent. While larger in scope, the film gets lost between its idealism and its desire to be a crowd-pleasing popcorn movie.

The aforementioned slum known as L.A. is occupied by ex-convict Max (Matt Damon), who is trying to live his life straight while working as a mechanic for a robotics company. He and the rest of the world’s poor live on Earth, while the privileged have abandoned the planet for Elysium, a spherical structure filled with immaculate lawns and machines that can instantly cure all diseases and ailments.

Elysium is run by the menacing Secretary Delacourt (an icy Jodie Foster), who makes it her mission to assure any outsiders are immediately detained or killed. And, with desperate residents of Earth looking to cure their diseases, that happens pretty often.

But after a work accident leaves him with radiation poisoning, Max is determined to make his way to Elysium to be cured. Once there, he may have a chance to liberate Elysium and bring quality healthcare to the rest of the world.

“Elysium” sets its overtly political conflict (99ers vs. 1 percenters, healthcare reform) front and center, before diving straight in to an intense chase film, with Max being pursued by Delacour, who hires a bounty hunter named Kruger (played with positively medieval menace by Sharlto Copley) to hunt him down. The film moves so quickly it almost feels rushed; much of Max’s character development comes through a repetitive and obvious framing device involving flashbacks to his childhood. Kruger and Delacour, despite excellent performances from Foster and Copley, never come off as much more than manufactured menace.

Trent Opaloch’s gritty cinematography helps to sell the film’s version of Earth not as speculative science fiction, but as an almost-inevitable look at our planet 150 years from now. The film’s violent action scenes recall the best moments of “District 9,” especially in its handheld camera shots that lend the film a faux-documentary aesthetic. Unfortunately, these scenes also feature distracting slow motion, an overused trope that is always a sign of a filmmaker’s more grand, crowd-pleasing tendencies. By the end, the numbing action overrides most of Blomkamp’s on-the-nose political commentary.

As a writer, Blomkamp brings something unique to the table beyond his politics. Raised in Johannesburg, South Africa and now living in Vancouver, the filmmaker has never considered himself an “American.” You can almost feel his glee as he turns L.A., a city that, in our world, can sometimes look more like Elysium, into the crowded, multicultural Johannesburg slum he knows so well. In the film, you’ll hear English, Spanish, French and German spoken. Much like “The Wolverine,” it’s the rare action film with a true international focus beyond exotic locales.

While the film looks great, I would have loved to have seen more of Elysium itself. While everyone on Earth seems to want to go there, all Elysians seem to do is lounge in pools and eat exotic desserts. But, when Max and crew arrive, we’re left to looking mostly at dark corridors.

Thank God for Matt Damon. He effectively sells Max as a sympathetic everyman. He’s one of a select few who can look convincing running and gunning or sobbing quietly in pain. And man, that guy can take a beating. It’s easy to get used to him because he’s in so many movies, but he consistently reminds why he is one of the best actors in the business.

“Elysium” is one heck of a ride. But, unlike “District 9,” it doesn’t sear in the memory. In its best moments, it recalls the magnificence of Blomkamp’s previous effort. In its worst, it’s almost laughably silly. That doesn’t stop it from being a tense, sometimes brainy roller-coaster.

“Elysium” is living proof that it’s better for a film to shoot for the stars and come up a bit short than to never even try. And, in a summer movie season of playing it safe, such ambition is worth celebrating.

The Wolverine: Mutton-Chopped Magnificence

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After the relative disaster that was “X-Men Origins,” the world really needs Wolverine to kick ass again. Hugh Jackman, who has been playing the clawed mutant since 2000’s original “X-Men,” is certainly game. The actor has aged as well as the regenerative character he made famous. But having Wolverine in a movie isn’t enough. He needs to be surrounded by interesting characters to complement his inner and external struggles, as well as a guiding filmmaker and screenwriters who can play to the character’s strengths.

Cue “The Wolverine” and director James Mangold (“3:10 to Yuma,” “Walk the Line.” Mangold and company have crafted a film that, in all the important ways at least, gives us everything we want in a Wolverine movie, while cutting away the many, many things we don’t. The result is a refreshing return to form for the mutton chopped mutant.

The film takes place after the events of “X-Men: The Last Stand,” with Logan aka Wolverine experiencing haunting visions of the woman he loved and lost, Jean Grey. While drifting through an Alaskan village, he is tracked by the mysterious Yukio (Rila Fukushima), who convinces him to travel to Japan to pay last respects to a man he saved from the bombing of Nagasaki during WWII.

This man, Shingen Yashida (Hiroyuki Sanada), is the wealthy owner of a tech corporation. When Logan arrives, Yashida offers him more than just a goodbye. He claims he can make Logan immortal. And when a man has experienced as much pain (both physical and emotional) as Logan has, it’s an enticing offer. Yashida is also afraid for his granddaughter, Mariko (Tao Okamoto), who is being threatened by Yakuza assassins.

The plot sets up several enticing scenarios but devolves by the end into generic sci-fi/action tropes. Until then, it’s a pretty engaging ride. But we’re not really here for the story. We’re here to see Wolverine stab dudes with those glorious adamantium claws, something he gets to do plenty of here. “X-Men Origins” couldn’t even get that right, but here we get some pretty great action set pieces that let Wolverine be the Wolverine.

The problem with Wolverine as a character, much like Superman, is that he’s, well, invincible. Although Wolverine still feels pain, he can’t really die. This film is smart enough to find a way to rob him of his regenerative powers for a good portion of the movie, giving a weight to the action that has been sorely missing from Logan’s encounters in previous films. Also, Wolverine fighting ninja assassins? Yes, please.

Don’t let that fool you into thinking this is an all-out action film, though. It’s quite talky (in both English and Japanese), and Logan has a lot of emotional baggage to carry. That’s a very good thing: “Wolverine” is one of the more intimate comic book movies in memory, which also makes it one of the more engaging. Logan’s growing emotional attachment to Mariko, as both protector and potential lover, is sidelined by his inability to detach from the memory of Jean, and its easy to see that, even for a mutant, some scars will never heal.

Director James Mangold, always a consummate visual stylist, directs with a sure hand, allowing emotional scenes and dialogue to play out without the desire to gum up the works with needless extraneous characters or villains to fight. The breathtaking Japanese vistas and emphasis on Japanese culture are a welcome change of pace for a comic-based film.

That is, until the last half hour, where things get rather silly (and convoluted) rather quickly. It’s also a total “Iron Man” rip-off. Still, nothing here comes close to the cheesiness of Logan’s last outing, and most of the film feels solidly grounded in the real world.

That’s truly the strength of the “X-Men” franchise; no matter how outlandish its characters’ powers may be, we can see them fitting into our everyday society. We can identify with their ostracized, outcast nature because we ourselves can sometimes feel ostracized or “different.” It makes it, in my mind, the most engaging of the Marvel film universes.

Hugh Jackman has played Wolverine for a long time, and I’m so glad to see he isn’t done with the character quite yet (stay after the credits for an awesome tease of what’s to come). Until the whole gang is rounded up for 2014’s “X-Men: Days of Future Past,” this is a pretty darn good holdover, and certainly the most engaging superhero film we’ll see this summer.

Redefining escapism at the movies

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I saw “Pacific Rim” the other day, and so did the rest of the audience in the theater I was in. Nothing new there. But there’s a difference between watching a movie and viewing it, and it’s a big one.

Much debate has occurred over the distracted nature of our modern society. In a movie theater, this normally looks like people texting or talking during a movie. But what I witnessed the crowd in that theater doing the other day went beyond that.

Several people in the theater didn’t just look distracted; they looked like they were actively struggling to sit still for a couple of hours. I don’t imagine it was the movie’s fault; it was great, and there was quite a bit of applause when the credits rolled. But not everyone in the theater saw the same movie I did. A man sitting in my row kept staring at his phone as if expecting an important message. He got up and left the theater three times during the movie, but he always came back.

The theater used to be a place of escapism, a place where we could forget our troubles for a few hours and become immersed in the magic of cinema. In our connected culture, that way of thinking is going the way of the drive-in theater. At home, people can pause a Netflix movie to run a quick errand, or they can stop the movie entirely if they don’t like it, with nary a penny wasted. Why waste valuable time and money sitting in a sticky dark cave?

But what about the really good movies? The ones that make us think, feel, dream, the ones that challenge us or maybe remind us of important truths we knew all along? Are these worlds not worth getting lost in? That is where the theater comes in. Complete immersion cannot occur when sitting on the couch.

But it has never been just the location that makes the theater special. It’s the mindset behind the eager theatergoer; the one who is willing to pay sometimes-exorbitant amounts of money because they want to escape the cares of their everyday lives for a few hours. They want to escape into the magic of movies. At least, that’s how it used to be.

Now, its seems, people have more important things to do. I imagine my row-mate, sitting at a Friday morning screening, really wanted to see “Pacific Rim.” But showing up to the theater isn’t enough. He clearly had more important things to take care of that day. And that’s great. But why did he have to come to the theater to realize that?

If I can’t put my life on hold for a few hours to see a movie, I just won’t go. It’s that simple. I love the movies too much to treat them as a sideshow to my self-importance. We all bring baggage with us into the theater; it’s exactly that baggage that we’re trying to escape from, after all. But I’ve gone to the theater before with too much going on in my life, too many stresses and anxieties, and I’ve been miserable even while watching great movies. I would not allow myself to get lost.

If the movies are going to continue to provide escapism from the routine of our everyday lives, we must allow ourselves to escape. If they are going to transport us, we must allow ourselves to be transported. Otherwise, we might as well just go home.

Pacific Rim Review: The monster movie you’ve been waiting for

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The formula for a film like “Pacific Rim” is not complicated. Take giant aliens who come from the ocean, add giant man-made robots to fight the global threat, add in a little Guillermo del Toro-inspired madness, and voila.

In truth, formula alone does not make a movie, but it is in its simple structure and stick-to-your-ribs genre purity that “Pacific Rim” stands out as the best big-budget release of the summer.

When the menacing Kaiju emerge from the sea and start wreaking havoc on not-too-distant-future humanity, we decide to create Jeagers, giant robots controlled by top military combat personnel around the world. The humans’ resistance seems to be working, but the Kaiju are getting stronger, and the UN decides to shut the Jaeger program down after too many soldiers (and their pricy machines) are killed.

Our main character, the impossibly good-looking soldier Raleigh Beckett (Charlie Hunnam), disappears after his brother Yancy is killed during a Kaiju attack. Jaeger pilots work in pairs of two via a “mind meld” (each controlling one hemisphere of the Jaeger’s “brain,” and the team works in tandem to control every aspect of the Jaeger’s movements. But the mind meld allows each pilot to see the other’s memories, and Raleigh hasn’t gotten over his severed mental connection to his brother.

Meanwhile, world governments have resorted to building large walls to keep the Kaiju out, but they don’t seem to be working. The Jaeger program has turned into an underground resistance movement, led by the intimidating Stacker Pentecost (Idris Elba, and yes, all the names in this movie are ridiculous), who tracks Raleigh down, Raleigh, one of the last living Jaeger pilots, in hopes of recruiting him to help carry a nuclear bomb to the Kaiju’s dimensional rift and closing the portal once and for all.

As Raleigh agrees, he comes across a refreshingly diverse set of supporting characters in the form of fellow Jaeger pilots, including a father-son Australian team and a mysterious Japanese recruit named Mako (Rinko Kikuchi), who senses an immediate connection to Raleigh she can’t quite explain.

I couldn’t imagine a movie like this being made by someone other than Guillermo del Toro. The dude can shoot an action scene. The towering Jaegers are impressive digital creations, and the imposing Kaiju even more so. This is a filmmaker who has staked a career on boundless visual creativity, and it holds true here. The combat sequences are truly something to behold. I suppose some might find some of the environments and cityscapes a bit derivative, but it’s hard to argue when there are so many things for your eye to catch in every scene.

As far as plot is concerned, mostly everything is predictable, but one advantage del Toro has over the monster movies he so clearly pays tribute to is smart dialogue and surprisingly three-dimensional characters. In particular, Idris Elba as Stacker manages the tricky feat of having a sympathetic backstory while still being a complete badass (even when half his dialogue is reduced to grand speechifying). The evolving relationship between Raleigh and Mako is also refreshing in its unpredictability. There’s even some tremendous comic relief in the form of a scene-stealing Ron Perlman (who else) as a shady black-market Kaiju organ dealer.

As the film’s conflicts ratchet up, it thankfully avoids the curse of “science-ese” that has plagued movies like “Man of Steel.” Just because things get more complicated doesn’t mean we have to stop understanding why, and “Pacific Rim” strikes that tricky balance by keeping things light and allowing the audience to keep pace in understanding all the plot’s technological developments as they happen.

On that subject, thank God for a summer blockbuster that doesn’t talk down to its audience. Del Toro is that rare director who is aware of what his audience wants, and is intent to give it to them. It’s a modern monster movie; not a revision, not an interpretation; not a re-boot. Instead of trying to bog his film down with grand messages and morals, he decided to go all the way in making the most kick-ass action movie of the summer. And honestly, why do we need more than that? It’s del Toro’s playground, and I want to see him play. And does he ever.

Hollywood seems to think audiences crave summer movies with brooding anti-heroes, dark themes, and grand statements about the human condition. We don’t; that’s for Oscar season. We want stuff to blow up, but we also want to remember why it did. We also want to laugh in-between the carnage. In that regard, “Pacific Rim” is one of the few truly successful movies of the summer. At a (relatively) brisk 131 minutes, it has a good balance between action and story, and, most importantly, doesn’t overstay its welcome (unlike another metal man I can think of).

In terms of a film delivering on its formidable-yet-gleefully-juvenile promise, “Pacific Rim” is the movie of the summer.

Man of Steel Review: Brought to you by Sears?

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Or 7-11, maybe?

 

I don’t envy director Zack Snyder for rebooting a franchise like Superman. The character of Superman, after all, has always been a bit of a bore; due to his generally invincible status, it’s difficult to create a palpable sense of danger. And thus, the challenge of any Superman film is multifaceted: how to make Kal-El more human by allowing him to experience real struggles, and how to make the characters and conflicts around him more interesting in order to make up for the mostly static nature of this particular hero.

The original Christopher Reeve Superman films (one and two, that is), cheesy as they were, solved this by giving the hero a warm persona and a sharp wit. They also gave us a timeless romance with the Daily Planet reporter Lois Lane. Superman seemed human because he was likeable and relatable, especially as Superman’s alter ego, Clark Kent.

Snyder’s solution (along with screenwriter David S. Goyer and producer Christopher Nolan, of “Dark Knight” fame), has been to give us an exceedingly generic and perfunctory sci-fi blockbuster complete with a “gritty” and “edgy” version of the hero that absolutely no one asked for. It is, for many reasons, a film that is hard to love, and one that shows how difficult it is to make a truly great superhero movie.

The film starts out interestingly enough, chronicling the downfall of Kal-El’s homeplanet Krypton and his father Jor-El’s (Russel Crowe) decision to send him as the last of his race to earth to carry on the survival of the species. You see, Kryptonians have mined the planet to the point of destruction, and it is too late for their race. This first sequence on Krypton drags on much too long and introduces a freighter’s worth of plot elements, characters and situations that the audience is expected to carry through the rest of the nearly 2.5 hour running time. It’s an exhausting introduction both visually and mentally, and a good indicator of what the rest of the film will be like.

We’re also introduced to General Zod (played by an absolutely incredible Michael Shannon), who plans a military coup to take over the planet (which is doomed anyway, so…) but is captured. He and his cronies (including Antje Traue as the cold and calculating Faora) are doomed to the Phantom Zone, a region of space where bad things…happen. But when Krypton is destroyed, Zod is released form the Phantom Zone (oops) and vows to hunt down Kal-El so that he can help him carry on the Kryptonian race on Earth.

The rest of the film follows Kal-El’s (now known as Clark Kent, of course) exploits on earth, via the present time as well as in flashback, where we see his struggles to come to terms with his powers and his loving earth parents (Diana Lane and Kevin Costner, who is criminally underused) attempts to help him find his true identity.

British actor Henry Cavill certainly looks the part of Clark Kent, but displays little of the warmth and charm of the iconic Christopher Reeve. His character is played as a mystery to the people of earth, and to the audience as well. And yet, the conflict at the core of his character is still compelling: is he a citizen of earth or a citizen of Krypton? How does he strike the balance between helping people from keeping his identity hidden? And yet, the fundamental flaw of the character is the face that he doesn’t have one. Superman can’t be hurt by anything other than Kryptonite, shards of crystal from his home planet. And yet, Kryptonite is nowhere to be found in this movie.

The film’s motif of “don’t worry, we’ve got really cool things planned for the sequel but not now” carries over to other characters as well. Lois Lane (played unconvincingly by Amy Adams) is completely wasted in this movie. In this version, she’s a Pulitzer-Prize winning reporter. How do I know that? Because she says, “I’m a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter.” If you say so, lady. There is just the barest hint of a romance between her and Superman teased here, but the joy of discovery so clever in the original films is gone, since Lois knows almost immediately that Clark is Superman. Is she just automatically okay with dating an alien? I guess so. There’s also Perry White, the Daily Planet editor played here by Lawrence Fishburne, who is a great character that unfortunately only gets a couple of scenes in the entire movie. If you’ve got Lawrence Fishburne, you’d better use him, movie.

I was surprised at how thick the spiritual symbolism is layed on here. Superman has always been a Christ-like figure, but here he is Jesus. The movie told me so in an out-of-nowhere scene where Clark reveals all his secrets to a random priest while a stained glass window of Jesus sits in the background. There’s also Jor-El’s heavy-handed narration (“one day they will join you in the sun”), just in case you didn’t get it.

Speaking of lack of subtlety, the product placement in this movie is ridiculous, especially during the epic, climactic fight scenes. Did you know Lois Lane likes Nikon cameras instead of Canon? Was that a 7/11 that just blew up? Man, it’s going to cost a lot of money to replace all those nice Sears washing machines Superman just got punched through! It’s incredibly distracting and takes the audience out of the movie entirely. I understand Snyder’s desire to ground Superman in the real world, but I don’t remember Batman whizzing past a McDonald’s on his way to beat up some thugs in “The Dark Knight.” And that movie felt pretty realistic to me.

I enjoyed the film’s chronologically disjointed flashback structure for the most part, but the last third of the movie falls into the unfortunate trap of blowing up lots of stuff real good while throwing tons of technical jargon and pseudo-scientific explanations for things that don’t make a lot of sense while expecting the audience to keep pace. It’s a confusing climax, but when Zod confronts Superman, the results are indeed epic. Zod has always been a truly great villain, and remains so. I love how his noble motivations; the desire to ensure the survival of his race; are at odds with his tactics, which don’t care a wink for the sanctity of life outside of the Kryptonian race. And the aerial battle between Zod and Superman is a pretty darn impressive technical feat to boot.

There is a decision that Superman makes at the end of the film that has the internet abuzz. I imagine Superman fans see it as a betrayal of the character, and they would be right. Superman would never, ever do what he does to defeat Zod here. And yet, I kind of liked the way the movie handled it. At the very least, it was a welcome surprise in a movie that had few, and for that reason, I’m willing to let it slide.

One last point. The true strength of the film lies in the fact that many of the heroic actions in the movie are not perpetrated by Superman, but rather by ordinary people. Superman did not save the day alone. He had the help of the people he swore to protect, from Lois Lane to that scientist with the glasses whose name the movie doesn’t give us. The film’s message that anyone can be super is beautifully conveyed, better in this regard than any other superhero movie I’ve seen. It’s a message we all need to hear.

Alas, it is a bright spot in a sea of wasted opportunity. I really wanted to love “Man of Steel.” I really did. I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted to love a movie more. But the film really makes it so hard to feel anything other than numbness. This is not a movie you watch so much as a movie you’re bludgeoned by. It definitely has moments of greatness, but those are overwhelmed by plot holes, a lack of subtlety and a sense of delayed gratification that keeps delaying. The film sets itself up perfectly for a sequel, and all I can say is that “Man of Steel” displays a lot of promise for what the future of the franchise could potentially hold. A great Superman movie? Maybe next time.

Miyazaki May: “Howl’s Moving Castle”

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I don’t envy Hayao Miyazaki for having to follow up a film like “Spirited Away.” For inspiration, the Japanese animator turned to Diane Wynne Jones’ book “Howl’s Moving Castle” and adapted it into an animated adventure. By many accounts Howl is a great film, but as a Miyazaki film it settles for being merely good.

Sophie is a lonely girl who works in a hat shop when she comes across the mysterious and majestic wizard Howl. When Sophie is transformed into an old woman by the jealous Witch of the Waste, she tracks down Howl and his magnificent magic walking castle in the hopes of getting the spell reversed. Meanwhile, the kingdom is at war and the king is recruiting witches and wizards to fight.

Several things stand out in this movie. Howl’s castle is a wondrous character unto itself, filled with portals to distant lands and the heart of the castle, the belligerent fire demon Calcifer. The castle is spectacularly animated, fitting right in with other Miyazaki locations like Yubaba’s bathhouse and Laputa, the floating city from “Castle in the Sky.”

The characters are some of Miyazaki’s strongest. Howl is just a fantastic protagonist, particularly because he’s so flawed. Despite his immense power, Howl is afraid of everything, and he’s also a bit of a brat, which is a refreshing change for Miyazaki male leads. This makes for an immensely likable and relatable hero. The same can be said for Sophie. It is her immense courage and good humor that encourage Howl to face his fears and his demons.

Several things, however, conspire to make this a lesser effort from the famed animator. The first is simply that it is an adaptation. Miyazaki’s original stories are so exhilarating because they are his; the source material here is fine, but it does leave the director tied to a story he must try to be reverent to. Don’t get me wrong, the film is still incredibly inventive, particularly in its visuals, but it doesn’t quite exude the same level of uninhibited creativity as some of his previous efforts.

Then there’s the plot and the message, both of which are overly complicated and muddled. The first half of the film, with its focus on its characters and humor (finally, another truly funny Miyazaki film), is excellent, but as the plot thickens, the air begins to deflate. There’s some kind of war going on that isn’t explained very well, and the bland villain Madame Suliman, who has her own rather confounding reasons for recruiting witches and wizards for war. Also, a fantastic and mysterious character like Howl deserves a good back story, but when it comes its underwhelming and downright confusing. In terms of a message, Miyazaki seems to be making some kind of statement on pacifism, but it’s hard to get a message through when we don’t really know what everyone’s fighting about in the first place. Miyazaki films are known for their narrative simplicity and simple, clear yet powerful messages. “Howl’s Moving Castle” breaks rank in these regards.

I like “Howl’s Moving Castle.” The visuals and music are typically top-notch, and the characters are absolutely wonderful. But the story surrounding it all is a disappointment. Even a lesser Miyazaki film is better than 90 percent of anything else out there, but, by the standards of what has come before it, it is just an okay film from the master animator. It’s worth seeing, but don’t expect another “Spirited Away.”

Well, that wraps up Miyazaki May! I hope you’ve enjoyed and that I’ve encouraged you to check out some more films from my favorite of all filmmakers. It’s been a blast!

*Note: I stuck to films that Hayao Miyazaki directed, and avoided the studio Ghibli films he wrote or produced but did not direct. With that in mind, these are the films I did not get to this time around:

 “Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro,” “Kiki’s Delivery Service,” “Ponyo,” “Porco Rosso”

 

Miyazaki May: “Spirited Away”

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It’s May, and I’ve realized how long it has been since I’ve watched the films of master Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki. I remember loving them when I was younger (I wrote a research paper on the life of Miyazaki in 7th grade), but I’ve been curious to see how they hold up to these more trained eyes. Or, maybe I just love alliteration. Either way, Miyazaki May is on! 

 

To make one undisputed masterpiece in a filmmaking career is remarkable. To make two is almost unheard of. To make two in a row, well…that’s just what Hayao Miyazaki did with his simply magnificent follow-up to “Princess Mononoke,” “Spirited Away.”

Many people can point to a movie that made them fall in love with movies, or perhaps rekindled that love. For me, that movie was “Spirited Away.” I saw it when I was about to graduate elementary school and my family was facing a move. Its themes of courage in the face of change and embracing our fears rather than running from them really spoke to me and allowed me to weather a stormy season of my life. There are several reasons I fell in love with movies (both Miyazaki and otherwise) shortly after that point, but the major one was “Spirited Away.”

The film follows a young girl named Chihiro, who is, like I was, scared to move with her family to a new house, a new school and a new life. On the way to their new house, they get lost along a country road and come across an abandoned amusement park. When day turns into night, the park becomes a bathhouse for various spirits to rest, and Chihiro’s parents, seen as intruders, are turned into pigs, while she finds herself trapped in the spirit world as she falls deeper and deeper down the figurative rabbit hole. With the help of a mysterious spirit named Haku and a bathhouse spirit named Lin, Chihiro must convince Yubaba, the old witch who runs the bathhouse, to turn her parents back and grant them passage safe back from the spirit world.

Along the way, Chihiro comes across the best and most eccentric cast of supporting characters in any Miyazaki film, including a spider-like boiler man named Kamaji and a misunderstood dark spirit named No-face, not to mention and anthropomorphic frog and a giant talking baby. This is certainly Miyazaki’s strangest and most overtly Japanese film, and that is meant in the best way possible. The film is filled with surreal images; the spirit bathhouse is a marvelous creation, populated with the oddest creatures ever put to animation. It’s Miyazaki at his most creatively uninhibited; you get the sense the Ghibli animators were willing to try anything because, in the spirit world, anything goes. It’s such a thrill to watch this movie time and again, just to see all that the animators have put into the background of almost every scene.

This is also the first of Miyazaki’s films to use digital technology to aid in coloring and effects, and it shows; the visuals here are in a different league from what came before. The colors and creatures pop off the screen (and yes, one or two of them are computer generated). And yet, the purity of the 2D animation shines through. I’ve identified one of the biggest differences between hand drawn and computer generated animation: it’s all in the eyes. I haven’t seen computer generated films quite get eyes yet; there’s something to hand-drawn eyes, particularly in the Japanese anime tradition, that has not been replicated with better technology. They’re just so big, colorful and lovingly crafted, and they’re something I’ll miss as we continue to gravitate toward CG animation.

I appreciate Miyazaki’s focus here on traditional Japanese cultural rituals, myths and spirituality. This is the kind of world where the smallest action can have tremendous consequences, requiring a blessing or a curse to alleviate the situation. There is so much rich cultural practice and heritage here, it’s not enough for one viewing. I urge you to take the time to appreciate the cultural nuances that differentiate this from an American animated film.

At the heart of this film is the greatest of all Miyazaki protagonists, Chihiro. Unlike many Miyazaki heroes, Chihiro is not a noble figure from the beginning. She is a whiny brat, afraid of the unknown and unwilling to face what she doesn’t understand. But, when her name is taken from her by the witch Yubaba, she faces an identity crisis and realizes that her old self just won’t do. As she learns to face her fears in the spirit world, she begins to see that her old problems just aren’t as scary anymore. She is the most sympathetic of Miyazaki protagonists, because her fears are relatable, as are her triumphs. We often wonder how we can find courage in our own lives, and the answer here is that we will always fear what we don’t understand. If we seek to understand our situation and the people involved in it, we may not always overcome our fear, but we can obtain the courage to act.

The primary theme of the film is Chihiro’s identity. When her name is taken away from her, she must try to hold onto herself before she allows herself to be controlled by Yubaba. We find out that is what has happened to Haku; Yubaba has taken away his real name, and he has become her servant, forgetting in the process who he once was. Even with her name taken away, Chihiro is constantly learning and growing, discovering herself anew even with her old self taken away. I may not forget my name, but I can relate to a feeling of alienation in my own skin, like I don’t recognize myself. The key is to hold onto the essence of what we are.

Let’s talk about the music for a second. Oh man, it’s good stuff. Joe Hisaishi has scored Miyazaki films since time immemorial, but I think this is his best. It’s a master-class through and through; somber yet hopeful, melancholy as filtered through the eyes of a dream. Good film composition not only heightens but also adds to every emotion the film conveys, and Hisaishi does this expertly every step of the way. I don’t know where Miyazaki films would be without Hisaishi, but it’s safe to say they wouldn’t be as good. Think of a Steven Spielberg movie without John Williams and you’ll have an idea how essential Hisaishi’s scores really are.

There is nothing in “Spirited Away” not to recommend. It’s one of the scariest, most consistently surprising and emotionally soaring movies you will ever see. It’s the movie that solidified Miyazaki’s popularity in the U.S. (it won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature in 2002), and there’s good reason for that. It was also a movie that personally changed my life. I may not be writing on this site today if it wasn’t for this film. I was worried I’d look back on it today and see it diminished without the lens of childhood. I’m so glad I was wrong. If you could catch wonder in a bottle, it might look something like “Spirited Away.” I’ve watched it dozens of times and plan to watch it dozens more, particularly during one of life’s many scary transitions. I encourage you to do the same.

Here’s Hisaishi playing the opening theme to the film live. Enjoy.

http://youtu.be/d1ni1sVCgEk

Miyazaki May: “Princess Mononoke”

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 It’s May, and I’ve realized how long it has been since I’ve watched the films of master Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki. I remember loving them when I was younger (I wrote a research paper on the life of Miyazaki in 7th grade), but I’ve been curious to see how they hold up to these more trained eyes. Or, maybe I just love alliteration. Either way, Miyazaki May is on! 

 

And here we reach the granddaddy of Miyazaki movies. I’ve never been able to adequately describe to anyone the experience of watching perfection. The best explanation I have is that you know it when you see it, because it will be extremely rare. It doesn’t help that perfection is objective, particularly in the realm of artistic expression. With those caveats in place, “Princess Mononoke” is indeed a perfect movie, or at least the apex of director Hayao Miyazaki’s creative talents, taking his most potent animation skills and themes and weaving them into a truly epic tale that stands along in the pantheon of all-time great movies, animated or otherwise.

The story is more of an epic adventure fable than anything else the director has done, taking place in a fantasy world of gods, demons and men. Ashitaka is a warrior in a small, isolated village who is given a fatal curse by a demon he kills while protecting his village. When he finds out the demon was a god infected by a ball of manmade iron, he sets out to find the city of iron where the ball was made as well as a way to lift his curse. Along the way he comes across San, a girl raised by wolf gods and a protector of the forest, as well as the people of Iron Town, led by the ambitious Lady Eboshi.

The people are intent on expanding the kingdom of man by cutting down the forest and killing the fabled forest god, while the gods of the forest want to protect their domain by killing the humans and driving them out. At the same time, the people of Iron Town are in battle with invading samurai armies. As Ashitaka realizes he holds a special bond with nature, it is his fate to instigate peace with the warring clans and re-forge the bond between man and nature that existed long ago.

When I describe the film as “epic,” I don’t mean it simply throws a bunch of cool, grand things on the screen (although it does do that). When I think of “epic,” I think of the quiet moments as much as the moment of grandeur. There are so many scenes here of quiet despair, such as when Ashitaka leaves his clan and realizes he can never come back, or a quiet reflection overlooking a forest landscape. These help to break up the grander action scenes.

The film has more action that other Miyazaki films, which is much more violent than anything the animator has done. The movie is bloody but not distractingly so; the characters and setting are aimed squarely at adults anyway. From an artistic perspective, this is Miyazaki’s most visually impressive work; the wooded landscapes and verdant green hills pop, as do the many explosions and battle effects. Most overwhelming are the creatures that inhabit the forest, from giant wolves and boars to tiny forest sprites. This is the best creature design of any Miyazaki film, and that’s really saying something.

The film is also Miyazaki’s most powerful antiwar and pro-environment statement. The boar god at the beginning of the movie is turned evil by a ball of iron, an invasion of the world of man into the world of nature. There was a time when man and gods got along (it’s telling that the gods are all animals inhabiting the natural world), but when a mighty emperor heard a rumor that the head of the forest god would grant eternal life, the kingdoms of men began fighting for the opportunity to hold such power. The film reflects poignantly on the power of hate and how it can destroy all that is good and natural about our existence.

Humanity’s lost connection to nature and peace is held together by the dual protagonists of Ashitaka and San (aka Princess Mononoke). Ashitaka is a largely archetypal hero in both word and deed, but his desire to avoid violence (and his revulsion when he must resort to it) is powerful for this type of film. San is much more aggressive and violent, but is determined to fight to sustain her way of life; her back-story, which I won’t spoil, is also pretty awesome. They remind me very much of an earlier Miyazaki hero, Nausicaa.

Miyazaki’s heroes refreshingly play against the cinematic type of the “hero” who does what he has to do to reach his goal, even if it means compromising his ideals or getting his hands dirty. Miyazaki’s heroes always stay true to who they are, even at the risk of failure. They are very flawed, but are aware of their shortcomings and work hard to redeem themselves. To anyone raised on American action movies, it’s difficult to describe how incredibly refreshing and vital this type of hero is. If most heroes (or antiheroes) reflect how we often are, Miyazaki’s heroes reveal what we have always wished (and know) we could be.

If the film has a human villain, it’s Lady Eboshi, the leader of Iron Town. She is not so much evil as misguided, believing that mankind can rule over the forces of nature. She also seeks peace, but, unlike Ashitaka, she does not believe she will find it. She feels she resorts to violence out of necessity, rather than choice. By the end of the film, she has realized that we always have a choice, and so have we.

What else to say? “Princess Mononoke” easily earns a coveted spot at the top of the heap of animated classics, alongside the likes of “Grave of the Fireflies,” “Spirited Away,” “Wall-E,” “Beauty and the Beast” and “Akira.” It coalesces everything great about Miyazaki into one movie: noble protagonists, unparalleled animation, spectacular music (Joe Hisaishi again) and powerful indictments against war and the destruction of the environment, not to mention flat-out epic, unforgettable storytelling. Best of all, it reveals a storyteller at the peak of his creative talents, pouring out every ounce of his passion, skill and dedication into his craft. Would he be able to sustain this level out output in the future? Join me tomorrow to find out.

Miyazaki May: “Castle in the Sky”

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 It’s May, and I’ve realized how long it has been since I’ve watched the films of master Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki. I remember loving them when I was younger (I wrote a research paper on the life of Miyazaki in 7th grade), but I’ve been curious to see how they hold up to these more trained eyes. Or, maybe I just love alliteration. Either way, Miyazaki May is on! 

In terms of sheer entertainment, “Castle in the Sky” is about as good a Miyazaki film as you’re likely to find. The film plays out more like an “Indiana Jones” or “Goonies” style adventure movie than anything else the animator has done. It’s Miyazaki at his most playful, yet still manages to convey some of the director’s trademark themes.

The story finds an orphaned boy named Patzu, living and working in a small mining town, who comes across a girl names Sheeta who seemingly drops from the sky. She is wearing a glowing crystal necklace with strange powers. It isn’t long before they are tracked down by both a government agent named Muska and a gang of pirates, who both believe the crystal may be the key to unlocking the secrets of Laputa, a fable floating city in the sky.

The prominent theme in this film is flight. Miyazaki’s father was a pilot, and an obsession with flying took up a good deal of his early years. Patzu’s father was also a pilot, and it is his goal to build a flying machine and find the floating fortress that his father was so obsessed with. In the film’s steam-punk universe, flying ships exist, but they are only available to the very wealthy and the military. The flight sequences are just spectacular; hand-drawn animation creates a sense of motion that is difficult to replicate in any other medium; everything from aerial battles to the floating city itself almost look real.

I absolutely love the humor in this movie. It’s Miyazaki’s funniest film by far. Most of the humor comes from the Dola gang, a family band of pirates led by an old woman named Dola and her awkward, bumbling sons. It’s a gentle humor that comes across as refreshing to an American raised on more aggressive and cruel one-upmanship. It makes me wish he had attempted this level of humor in more of his movies (although he did make other comical adventures, such as “Porco Rosso” and “The Castle of Cagliostro”).

As a more conventional adventure story, “Castle in the Sky” is one of the few Miyazaki films to contain a traditional villain. In this case, it works, particularly because Muska is such a cool villain (even with the purple suit and ascot). It helps that he’s played in the American dub by Mark Hamill, who can do no wrong in the realm of voice acting. But the real villains here are actually more esoteric. The floating city of Laputa seems to be a paradise, but there’s a reason the city has been abandoned. It represents all the potential good as well as the potential evil of a futuristic city with advanced technology.

The primary villain, however, is the villain in almost every Miyazaki film: humanity’s fractured relationship with the world in which it lives. Within a fun, fast-paced adventure, Miyazaki still makes a grand statement about our destruction of the earth. This message may seem didactic to American eyes, but it’s difficult to understate the Japanese cultural tradition that emphasizes our connectedness with nature. “The earth speaks to all of us,” says one character early in the film. “We come from the earth, and to the earth we shall return.” Compare this gentle, unobtrusive message to the didacticism of American films such as “Avatar.” It’s clear that Japanese culture has an apolitical appreciation for the natural world around it that American culture seems to lack. It’s a theme that Miyazaki will perfect in the next film featured in Miyazaki May.

Miyazaki May: “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind”

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It’s May, and I’ve realized how long it has been since I’ve watched the films of master Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki. I remember loving them when I was younger (I wrote a research paper on the life of Miyazaki in 7th grade), but I’ve been curious to see how they hold up to these more trained eyes. Or, maybe I just love alliteration. Either way, Miyazaki May is on! 

Of all of Hayao Miyazaki’s films, the one that I least remembered was “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind.” Upon revisiting, I rediscovered a gem that, while containing some unmistakable Miyazaki traits, also does some things that help it to stand alone in his body of work.

The story takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where much of the human population has been wiped out by poisonous gases created by the Ohm, a giant race of insects. Pockets of humanity survive in a few remaining kingdoms left on earth. One of those kingdoms is the valley of the wind, and Nausicaa is the princess of the kingdom. But unrest grows as tensions rise between the neighboring kingdoms of Tolmekia and Pejite, as humanity races to find a way to wipe out the Ohm and their toxic jungle once and for all.

The primary strength of this film is the character of Nausicaa, one of Miyazaki’s strongest heroes and one of the greatest heroines in movie history. Nausicaa is a pacifist and a Snow White type who loves all of creation, even the parts of it that have killed most of humanity. She struggles to find a way to make peace with the Ohm without wiping out the toxic jungle. She can be soft-spoken but has that prototypical Miyazaki-an courage in the face of adversity. In some ways, she is a Messianic figure (a trait the movie itself makes perfectly clear), but she is far from perfect; her challenges and struggles always remain relatable. This ain’t your typical Disney princess. In fact, one could argue that Nausicaa is a strong feminist heroine fighting against the Disney stereotype of passivity.

Miyazaki populates the film with his usual cast of odd and interesting characters, but the most memorable is the film’s “villain”, Kushana, princess of Tolmekia. I use quotation marks because “Nausicaa” exemplifies one of the grandest Miyazaki themes: no one is beyond corruption, and all are capable of redemption. Many of his films do not contain traditional “bad guys,” or, if they do, they are not so bad by movie’s end. Kushana exemplifies the other end of the princess spectrum; someone who always solves her problems with violence.  She has never known anything else. Even if she doesn’t exactly have a redemptive moment on-screen, it’s easy to see that encountering Nausicaa is forcing her to re-consider her way of looking at the world. The same can be said for the destructive Ohm, who come to their own understanding about humanity. I despise cheap villains in movies who seem to exist simply to give something the protagonist to fight against and this is something that Miyazaki refreshingly avoids almost universally.

The animation here is typically excellent, particularly on the Ohm, which is some of the coolest creature design I’ve seen. The fact that these awe-inspiring insects were created in the 1980’s, using hand-drawn animation, is a true testament to the power and endurance of the art form. Miyazaki also uses some experimental styles during a flashback sequence.

The score is provided by longtime Miyazaki collaborator Joe Hisaishi, and a Miyazaki film is never complete without one of his soul-stirring renditions. “Nausicaa” finds Hisaishi at his most experimental, utilizing more synthesized sounds and vocals, along with his traditional amazing piano work. I’m not sure his work was ever this consistently surprising in any other Miyazaki film. If you’re not familiar with his work, look it up on Spotify right now. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

“Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind” finds Miyazaki working with some of his grandest and most enduring themes: pacifism and environmentalism. These themes are never obvious or on-the-nose, never politicized, never bludgeoned into the audience’s brains. Miyazaki never treats his audience like children, and one could argue that his films are not really meant for children anyway. This film is what I like to call a low-key great movie; it doesn’t exude the immediate awesomeness of some of Miyazaki’s later work, but that doesn’t make it any less of a triumph. Don’t allow this one to be overlooked in favor of some of the famed animator’s well-known works.