Miyazaki and Takahata had years of experience in animation before starting Studio Ghibli. They had done extensive TV work, both writing and directing and in the case of Miyazaki doing the animation as well. Now, I have not watched most of this work, but it’s safe to say that, working as they were for the industry’s studios they would have to comply to certain norms and they wouldn’t be able to experiment with genre much either. It was only when Studio Ghibli was established, that the two made their name in the world. Miyazaki would be more prolific of the two while Takahata would only direct sporadically with more than a decade between his last two films. Takahata would be the more experimental of the two (both in form and content) and it is for this reason that I admit flat out that I think Takahata is the greater of the two. That’s not to say though that I think anything less of Miyazaki than a master. Both of these directors would craft stories that are personal to their hearts and share some of the same concerns (such as anti-war and environmental messages) as well as a reputation for crafting engaging and thoughtful protagonists, most of them women. This was important to Miyazaki as he criticized the Japanese animation industry at the time for drawing and making it’s female protagonists as objects of fetishes (something which still happens to this day). Ghibli would be shut down eventually and Miyazaki would retire (although he has a new film on the block) while Takahata would pass away in 2018. This means we have a definite body of work for the both of them and every one of their films is worth watching.
Note: As I alluded to before I haven’t seen most of their pre-Ghibli work which means I haven’t seen the three films Takahata made before the founding of the studio.
Lupin The 3rd: The Castle of Cagliostro (Miyazaki, 1979)
Even if one has never watched the TV show the film is based on (or even heard of it) Lupin is a breezy two hours, a mix of action, humour, romance and of course being a Miyazaki film wonderful animation, a precursor of sort to Porco Rosso. Arsène Lupin III (voice of Yasou Yamada) is a master thief who in the film’s opening sequence steals a casino along with his accomplice Daisuke Jigen (voice of Kiyoshi Kobayashi). Enough money to fill their entire car, except of course the money is all fake and Lupin tells this cheerily to his partner and together the partners dump the money on the highway. This opening scene sets an easy tone for the film, introducing Lupin as a a cheery lovable criminal who’ll fall in love with Clarisse (Sumi Shimamoto) and become a hero through the course of the film. Miyazaki changed the character considerably from the original who was far more of an anti-hero with his creator even stating Lupin would have raped Clarisse. Of course, you can’t have this in a Miyazaki film and it’s all the better. This is the most traditional of Miyazaki’s films, with Miyazaki working as a gun-for-hire and making a film in Japan’s considerably huge animation system. There are a few distinctive touches of the director though, especially the ending where the titular castle collapses to reveal ancient Roman ruins, the first hint of Miyazaki’s primary concern in many of his subsequent films, that of humanity’s greed destroying nature. Lupin is not essential viewing by any means, but it’s not a throwaway either, showing a master’s early flourish.
Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (Miyazaki, 1984)
The film that directly led to the formation of Studio Ghibli, Nausicaä is also responsible for other firsts. The first film from Miyazaki to have a strong female protagonist at the center, the first of his films to deal with anti-war messaging and environmental concerns. Unfortunately, it is also the first of his films that I think suffers from the primary with Miyazaki’s weaker films, namely the overstuffing of the plot. Here, at least it can be excused as pertaining to certain demands an anime film requires. I liked this film and I was completely with Nausicaä all the way of the journey but there were some things that simply did not gel. There was one character too many, one obstacle too many, one case of deus ex machina too many. I am not advocating here for the film to be shortened or Miyazaki be censored in any way. Rather I wished the film would concentrate more on the central story and the environmental themes of the film. As I said though I liked the movie if not falling in love with it. Nausicaä (voice of Sumi Shimamoto) is a very compelling protagonist and the scenes involving her and the Ohms are thrilling. Plus the sci-fi premise, unique among Ghibli films, makes it the only ‘metal’ Ghibli film. The sea of decay sequences too are very well done lending themselves to some beautiful animation. All in all, worthy of your time if not masterclass.
Laputa: Castle in the Sky (Miyazaki, 1986)
Laputa is a first-rate actioner from Miyazaki, but it also points towards the more somber and ideological turn his films would take later, not the least of which is My Neighbor Totoro which only came two years later. The story is your standard anime action/adventure stuff. One night Pazu (voice of Mayumi Tanaka) sees a angelic little girl falling from the sky, except she is falling slowly, a stone’s magic preventing her from coming to any harm. The girl is Sheeta (voice of Keiko Yokozawa) and the boy and the girl quickly fall for each other. As revealed, Sheeta is actually a princess of a castle in the sky called Laputa and she is chased by both pirates and the army led by Colonel Muska (voice of Minori Terada) who has his own connection to Laputa. You know, standard stuff and the plot trudges along somewhat predictably though there are a few twists and turns with the usual dose of comedy. It’s in the individual moments that the film shines however, like the robots who earn your sympathy without uttering a thing. Or the first landing on Laputa, where Miyazaki allows the protagonists to just wander around trying to make sense of this new world. Their first experience of it is unexpected, the island all covered with branches and a few helpful robots. Miyazaki here is conveying the perils of power, and the inevitable destruction that follows. But the decay is so peaceful and quiet and the branches ultimately aid our heroes in their fight, quite literally getting in touch with your roots. I am of two minds whether Miyazaki’s positive depiction of miners undercuts this. Miyazaki was inspired by Welsh miners on strike, but there feels something wrong about lionizing miners by a director who’s main obsession has been the destruction of nature at the hand of man. Still, it shouldn’t take away from the fact that Miyazaki here has made a terrific genre piece.
My Neighbor Totoro (Miyazaki, 1988)
Totoro is unlike any other Miyazaki film. Miyazaki’s characters usually go through character arcs in line with narrative beats, the overarching plot being the narrative engine that helps the film propel forward. That is not to say Miyazaki’s characters are in service to the plot, but a complicated plot is a characteristic of his films. Totoro does away with this, it’s narrative being more similar to Takahata’s Only Yesterday in that both films focus on the trials and tribulations of girls in their formative years but without the help of a typical plot. The result is a film that feels intimate and personal in a way that animated films rarely do. Totoro as a character himself is also pretty singular. A fluffy cross between a bear and a cat (certainly the cutest otherworldly creature in Miyazaki’s films) he is a non-speaking spirit who like long naps and doesn’t mind when the younger of the two sisters Mei (voice of Chika Sakamoto) starts playing with him. With the two sisters’ mother in the hospital and the father busy in his work, he acts as a sort of surrogate parent to the girls. But the girls seem to delight Totoro too and the film has many a joyous sequence highlighting the quality of the animation and the bond between the girls and Totoro (the cat bus is a stroke of genius). And yet there is a inherent sadness, with their mother being in the hospital and at one pivotal moment you fear the worst. Miyazaki’s own mother had tuberculosis and thankfully she survived and the mother here survives too (you can’t help but think though that she probably would have died in a Pixar film). But the lasting image of the film is the scene at the bus stop with Mei sleeping on the back of her older sister Satsuki (voice of Noriko Hidaka) with Totoro standing beside them in the rain with only a leaf for cover. No wonder they made him the studio’s icon.
Grave of the Fireflies ( Takahata, 1988)
Through the years Ghibli has created an array of cute girls, one or two for every film. None has been as tragic though as Setsuko (voice of Ayano Shiraishi). A character almost designed to make you cry, we know from early on her destiny and as we sit powerless, not being able to do anything, we pray her suffering is lessened as she reaches her inevitable fate. Her big brother Seita (voice of Tsutomu Tatsumi) does everything in his power to care for his little sister and we feel for him too as do we for the millions of people affected by the war. Takhata said, ” (The film) is not at all an anti-war anime and contains absolutely no such message.” His images give the lie to his words though. From the first image to the last Grave becomes one of the most emotionally draining anti-war documents ever made. Unlike Miyazaki, Takhata wasn’t interested in animating itself but the power of animation to tell a story. The animation gives an additional vulnerability to the characters while allowing Takhata to show the full range of the devastation in a way live-action would not permit. But this is also a story of the bond between two siblings who have life’s hardships thrust upon them. After their house is destroyed in a bombing and their mother dies, Setsuko and Seita move in with their aunt. The aunt eventually gradually turns on them and the siblings are forced out again. But there’s no demonization here, the film hints at her own hardship and this is not her normal countenance. Again the point being made on a micro level of how war brings out the worst in people. After being forced out the siblings live the life of nomads scraping out a living as best as they can which isn’t much. This third act is devastating and may make the most hardened of grown-ups to cry. I know I did.
Kiki’s Delivery Service (Miyazaki, 1989)
Kiki’s Delivery Service was adapted from a novel by Eiko Kadono. The novel is originally of a much more episodic nature and one can see Miyazaki trying to make a narrative out of all this, to make a real Miyazaki film. Unfortunately this leads to a fumbling and indecisive film which has no idea what it wants to be. This could be forgiven for a film doesn’t need to have a straightforward or consistent plot to succeed if the content itself demands it or the content is strong enough. Kiki doesn’t deliver on that front either. At the end of the film, Kiki (voice of Minami Takayama) says she loved this town. I was unconvinced. I hadn’t seen enough for me to have any opinion. The town Kiki settles in initially treats her harshly until a chance encounter with a friendly baker convinces Kiki to stay in the town. Things happen too easily and solutions are also easily found. For instance, when Kiki loses her powers (the reason for which is cryptic and I am not sure it needed to be, another pitfall of the adaptation I think) she goes to live with a friend she met earlier where the friend, who is a painter compares her loss to artist’s block. When she does regain her power it’s in the climax when she is rescuing a boy she is friends with. This whole characters arc to me seemed frivolous and pointless, and it doesn’t really provide for anything resembling emotional attachment to the characters. At times, I was bored like Kiki herself is sometimes. I wonder if Takahata (who was considered to direct early on) would have been a more appropriate choice, since he proved he is comfortable with episodic narrative in both Only Yesterday and My Neighbors the Yamadas. Lest you think I hate the film, I don’t. I did find find things to admire, like the cat Jiji (voice of Rei Sakuma) and I did find the early sequences where Kiki leaves home and settles in the town pleasant. It’s just not something I would heartily recommend.
Only Yesterday (Takahata, 1991)
One can easily imagine Yesterday as a live-action film. This is reflected in the animation too, with the characters having more realistic facial expressions and the overall animation having a more non-showy quality to it. The characters and their emotional journey is firmly at the centre of things here. Adapted from a Manga, only the scenes where our central character Taeko (voice of Miki Imai when adult and voice of Yōko Honna when child) is a child are adapted directly from the Manga. The adult sections are purely Takhata’s invention and they elevate the film from just being a snapshot of a girl’s childhood to being a full-fledged drama with three-dimensional characters. The adult sequences provide a bookend to the child sequences, allowing the viewer to view them from a distance, so when the child Taeko has a first crush or is struggling with Maths, we view it from the lens of the adult Taeko, with a mixture of nostalgia and embarrassment. And the adult sequences find Taeko a fully-formed character arriving at a farm and questioning herself as to what direction her life is heading in. There’s no hyperbole and no firm stances here. In fact, the unsureness of Taeko makes her feel more relatable and the film makes a sure stand of not romanticizing her childhood. For example, when child Taeko wants to take up acting in a play, her father firmly refuses. Adult Taeko is shown reminiscing over this, but she accepts it with a sense of inevitability, that that sort of life may never have been for her. So, when the time comes for deciding whether to go back to Tokyo or stay behind and live with the lovely Toshio (voice of Toshirō Yanagiba) she runs away and contemplates whether it’s worth taking a risk. This culminates in a wonderful, heart-tugging ending sequence. Here, “the memories come tumbling down” as the original Japanese title says.
Porco Rosso (Miyazaki, 1992)
Porco Rosso is usually not considered in the top echelon of Miyazaki’s works. This maybe because of it’s origin as an in-flight film, it’s more comedic aspirations or because it’s more genre inspirations like the World War II adventure film and noir. Miyazaki himself doesn’t think highly of it, regretting the film taking a more serious approach in response to the Yugoslav War. But for me this injection of seriousness into the otherwise breezy narrative is welcome. It only seems to highlight the absurdity of man’s penchant for violence and it also gives depth to the characters, not the least of which includes Porco (voice of Shūichirō Moriyama) saying “I’d much rather be a pig than a fascist”. The comedy works too because Porco himself is so charming. Porco combines Miyazaki’s love for flying with Miyazaki’s love for pigs. His love for flying had shown through in his previous films and would culminate in his magnum opus The Wind Rises while the pigs Miyazaki uses as an allegory for man’s greed. Porco is the Miyazaki version of the classic Hollywood hero, a little Bogart, a little Cary Grant. Despite being a pig he is well-liked by almost everybody. The aerial fights are very well executed, with the finale being a mix of high-octane action and a parody of testosterone infused action heroes parading their masculinity. For me, this is essential Miyazaki.
Pom Poko (Takahata, 1994)
Takahata never was afraid of tackling some serious issues through his films head-on. His films are political in an upfront manner, unlike Miyazaki who uses allegories and symbols. The concept of Pom Poko is simple enough. A tribe of tanuki (raccoon dogs, though they are subtitled as just raccoons) are threatened when a new urban development encroaches upon their area. The raccoons are shape-shifters and decide to use this technique in their fight against humans. To go the safe route would have been pretty easy with this concept but Pom Poko goes to seem pretty dark places. For example, some of the more militaristic of the raccoons like Gonta (voice of Shigeru Izumiya) have no qualms about killing a few humans. The film doesn’t go easy on the raccoons either, showing them as lustful and gluttonous. An early scene shows the elders of the tribe bribing the youthful leaders with MacDonald’s burgers. This is a film that has a real satirical bite to it. Consider for example, the scene in which Gonta stages a Animal Farm-esque coup d’état and holds all the members of the strategic council at his mercy. Somehow or another the conversation turns to food and the captors start reminiscing over all the tasty food, with Gonta himself swooning over it most and the coup is called off. The comparisons to Animal Farm don’t end there. After a devastating ending for some raccoons, the raccoons who are able to shape-shift decide to finally live as humans and try to co-exist with them, recalling the similar ending to Orwell’s novel where the pigs cannot be differentiated from the humans. Despite their fanciful powers the raccoons are helpless against humanity and the melancholic ending cannot help but infuse a sadness not only on account of the raccoons but for all the damage already done by the humans. The centerpiece of the film though is a parade done by the raccoons as a power demonstration to frighten humans (as usual this fails). The quality of the animation, while already quite strong reaches a new height here. This is a wonderful hypnotic sequence and one can imagine the animators just letting their imagination run wild. One of the masters during the parade declares “Matter is void, form is emptiness” and one imagines whether he is not ruing this war between the raccoons and humans as raccoon or human we will all return to the dust.
Princess Mononoke (Miyazaki, 1997)
Mononoke’s beginning is promising, a more violent breed than anything you expect from Miyazaki. Particularly, the sequence where Ashitaka (voice of Yōji Matsuda) lops off an head gives an indication that this is not going to be especially kid-friendly. It’s a good groove to get in and I was ready for a violent fantasy epic. Alas, the film never delivers on the promise. Once Ashitaka leaves his village to find a cure for the curse that is afflicting his body, the narrative moves rapidly and the result is a convoluted mess. There’s too many elements at play and in all this the film’s message gets lost somewhere. Another thing that irked me was the character of San (voice of Yuriko Ishida) . Miyazaki has created numerous fantastic female heroines and one reason he is so beloved is the considerable personality that these female characters have. But I couldn’t really feel for San. Of course, she is an intentionally ambiguous character and our sympathy with her is meant to be built as the film progresses but there was never a moment where I felt this was the turning point and now I understand San’s motivations. Compare this with the slightly bland Ashitaka and the action practically dwarfs the characters. Being a Miyazaki film, the main characters are never in any danger of dying, Miyazaki not the type of man to use a main character’s death for the sake of a twist or thrill. But it’s astonishing how often Ashitaka gets by with a bit of luck or help.
The message of the film is one we can agree on a general level, but having sat through the film I wasn’t particularly concerned about what happened to Irontown and the surrounding forest. On a subconscious level, I think the comedy being scant also pegged at my mind. The comedy often builds character in Miyazaki’s films and it’s absence was severely felt. Mononoke, because of the expectations it builds in the first half ends up being a massive disappointment.
My Neighbors the Yamadas (Takhata, 1999)
Boasting a minimalistic animation style done digitally, Yamadas is at least at first a collection of sketches centered around the central Yamada family. The sketches certainly reminded me of childhood Japanese shows I watched like Shinchan and Ninja Hattori and I wondered if the film would entirely comprise of these sketches. But late in the film there is a sequence that has some thematic subtext to it and introduces a little drama and conflict into the narrative. But that’s not to say the film leaves behind it’s wholesome comedy aesthetic and it’s excursion into drama is a momentary thing. However, the sequence does betray an extraordinary sadness on the part of the father (voice of Touru Masuoka), an underlying insecurity that he would come up lacking when the moment appears. The film then descends into fantasy on part of the father, something more suitable to the children and is more in line with the film’s tone. If I am making the film sound dark, that is not the case. This is a frequently uproarious comedy (the sketches are hit-or-miss, but mostly hit) and is the funniest film from Ghibli (bar maybe Pom Poko). It’s just that when the comedy is so relatable, the humor can’t help but sting a little.
Spirited Away (Miyazaki, 2001)
Chances are when people hear Ghibli, they think Spirited Away. Ghibli’s most famous and successful film it’s not difficult to see why. It’s a perfect blend of humour, fantasy, action and the deep-lying environmental concerns of Miyazaki. Apart from The Wind Rises, this is the film most essential to understanding Miyazaki’s philosophy. Consider for example, the stink spirit who turns out to be a river monster polluted beyond recognition. The film takes this constant swerves that are not directly related to the main plot and yet are important to the film’s flow. And at the end, when our main character Chihiro (voice of Rumi Hiiragi) reaches Zeniba’s house the film achieves a ethereal quality. Thereon as the film reaches it’s climax Chihiro has learned her lessons and understands the havoc caused by tampering with nature. She sets about correcting wrongs and in the process helps out the members of the bathhouse stand up to Yubaba (voice of Mari Natsuki).
But what makes Spirited Away such an excellent film are the excellent fantasy creations. From the aforementioned Stink Spirit and Yubaba to No-face to the baby Boh, the creations are sometimes creepy, sometimes endearing, sometimes crude, sometimes cute. There’s a scene eary on which recalls a similar scene in My Neighbor Totoro, in which Chihiro stands next to a mustachioed, cuddly giant of a spirit in an elevator and they ride the elevator silently. This scene perfectly encapsulates the extent of the world-building that Miyazaki has achieved here. Chihiro is confused and out of sorts, but this is a gentle giant and the first indication that the the members of the bathhouse are not cruel, just a bit misguided. And then there’s Haku (voice of Mari Natsuki) who guides Chihiro through this world and he himself is a river spirit, again a comment on pollution.
Spirited Away, like The 400 Blows is a film that I wished I had come into my life earlier when I was in school. For films like these are invaluable at this stage and it is such a pity that it is often outside forces that determine what kind of media we consume. This is a film that would have been right up my wavelength at the time and I suspect it would be for other children too.
Howl’s Moving Castle (Miyazaki, 2004)
Howl is a film that should really appeal to me. Chucking narrative sense out of the window, Miyazaki instead goes about exploring and stretching the narrative to make more room for his anti-war agenda. It’s like taking a trip inside Miyazaki’s psyche. So why does Howl elicit nothing more than a cold shrug from me? Is it because the whole film seems like an excuse to get the villain Madame Suliman (voice of Haruko Kato) to say the final line about the futility of war? Is it because despite being applauded for giving old women their due, the film doesn’t actually give them a proper representation? Or is it because again Miyazaki gets so caught up in his own world and narrative that the film’s message appears at best heavy-handed and doesn’t become the grand scrutiny of war that it’s supposed to be?
Miyazaki was outspoken about his opposition of the Iraq War. This was a film meant to be a direct response to that war. And yet when Suliman utters her final line about the pointlessness of the war, the line sounds like a throwaway. Throughout the film Suliman (I.e. Miyazaki) has made the characters go through so much, that it can’t help but come across as manipulative. What we end up with is a film that seems important on the outside but is clunky and too engrossed with itself on the inside (kind of like the castle itself). That said I’m not entirely negative on the film. Some of the visuals are truly breathtaking (although some of them do again reinforce the force-feeding of the message) and the film is at it’s best when Sophie (voice of Chieko Baisho) first enters the castle and starts cleaning it. But this also leads to another problem I have with the film. Once Sophie has turned into a old woman, the film can’t wait to turn her back to young Sophie again, any of it’s messages like beauty being not essential in understanding and sympathy appearing half-assed. I truly do wish Howl was better but unfortunately it is not.
Ponyo (Miyazaki, 2008)
After the ideological overkill of Howl, Ponyo comes as a nice relief. There’s a point where Ponyo’s father Fujimoto (voice of George Tokoro) talks about the damage done to the ocean, but as a whole the film remains bereft of any grand point. That does not mean however, the film does not have any heft. Rather, this riff on The Little Mermaid far exceeds that iconic but badly overhyped film.
I feel like I say this about every Ghibli film, but the quality of the animation is just brilliant here. Whether it be the waves transforming into water creatures, Ponyo’s thousand sisters following Ponyo or Ponyo’s mother, the big and beautiful Gran Mamare (voice of Yūki Amami) appearing out of the sea the world the animation creates is immersive and you ready for the sea to swallow you up as well. Ponyo (voice of Yuria Nara) is a sweet little fish who wants to get out of her father’s control and become a cute little girl. She is aided in this by Sosuke (voice of Hiroki Doi) who gives the fish her name. There are no villians here, with the tsunami created by Ponyo and her father’s actions being a representation of the anger of the sea and the characters banding together during times of the Tsunami and helping each other out. The reason Ponyo succeed where The Little Mermaid doesn’t is the genuine friendship and relationships that happen during the way instead of the Disney film where rote Disney formulas are followed with personality traits being given by the creators rather than coming naturally to the characters.
If you want to get people hooked on Miyazaki or Ghibli, Ponyo is a great entryway.
The Wind Rises (Miyazaki, 2013)
Miyazaki’s own father was the director of a company that manufactured rudders for airplanes in World War II. So, it’s fair to say Miyazaki’s love for airplanes was born at a young age just as the protagonist here Jiro Horikoshi (voice of Hideaki Anno), who also acts like a ideological insert of Miyazaki, while the other characters act as ideological inserts of Japan itself during World War II. Miyazaki always felt guilty about leading a affluent lifestyle due to his father’s work, feeling like he profited from the war. This is the central conflict of The Wind Rises as well, as Jiro sets forward in his ambitions to design state-of-the-art airplanes all the while knowing his airplanes will be used in the war to destroy god knows how many lives.
Planes are majestic creatures, a fantasy of humankind to conquer air having already conquered land and water. Throughout the film Jiro is visited in his dreams by Italian aircraft pioneer Giovanni Battista Caproni ( voice of Nomura Mansai) and they discuss planes and what these mean to them. Earlier in the film, Jiro had rued the lack of technological development happening in Japan regarding airplanes. Caproni tells him Italy is poor too and that innovation in planes can only be beneficial to mankind. Jiro visits Germany to understand their superior aircraft and is amazed. And yet he also witnesses the racism of Nazi-era Germany. Here again, the moral cost of modernity is pondered upon. Jiro sees two kids at a bus stop, waiting for their parents to return from their late-night jobs. The kids look hungry and Jiro offers them food, but they run away. Jiro wonders how many disenfranchised people would be fed at the cost it is taking them to build planes. Miyazaki has always been critical of modern technology and yet is convinced of the necessity of airplanes. This is a film which is a reconciliation of this belief, despite the very real cost of war. Jiro however, leaves these concerns by the side and hunkers down to work. This is only heightened by him falling in love with Naoko (voice of Miori Takimoto). Now, Jiro is doing this not only for himself, for Naoko has tuberculosis. The ending is melancholic. He is visited again by Caproni, and he complements him on the Zero airplanes. However, Jiro tells him not one of them came back. Japan was devastated by air raids and his wife Naoko is dead. Caproni still believes he has built a magnificent aircraft and tells him not to regret his feat, while he also has a vision of his wife. In the end, Wind is a film about a man caught in the midst of a turbulent period in his country’s life and yet who has ambitions that will be used by his country to war. It’s a pacifist’s struggle and the film doesn’t judge Jiro for following his dreams whatever the consequences.
The Tale of Princess Kaguya ( Takahata, 2013)
Princess Kaguya is a painting-in-motion. It might seem redundant to say it about a animated film, but the watercolor animation ensures that every frame has the quality of a painting. Takahata is comfortable in not rushing the story which means the story’s measured pace let’s the drawings come to life. Many of the scenes are individually almost-paintings. The background will be still, while only one character shows a change in expression or only one bird is flying. Takahata’s previous film My Neighbors the Yamadas evidenced a minimalist animation style too but there the animation got out of the way of the story, while here the animation is integral to the story.
The tale itself is simple though highly allegorical in nature. Princess Kaguya (voice of Aki Asakura) herself is a highly indefinable protagonist. Even the name Princess Kaguya is given to her, her origins being mysterious until the end. Rather, in the way her father tries to control her and in the way her suitors think of her as an achievable object and in the way her mysterious origins turn out to be otherworldly, making her suffering seem unnecessary she seems to resemble rather than any Ghibli heroine, a Lars Von Trier-heroine with parallels to Dogville especially potent. When it is finally revealed whence Kaguya came from, one wonders what was her purpose on descending upon earth. She is a mystical being who her father believes is a gift from the gods, which also means her father believes they have a destiny in mind for her. And thus the child is confined, literally and metaphorically, to a struggle every girl is all too aware of. But maybe that was the point. All the frustrations and the general joylessness of her period on earth combined with the happy memories she had of her earth-childhood add up to make a complete woman, or at least the replica of one. Maybe the monotony of her adulthood is equally as important to her experience on earth as the free-wheeling adventures of her youth. And the gods have sent her here not only for her sake. Her mother and father (voices of Takeo Chii and Nobuko Miyamoto) don’t themselves have a child and so the princess must fulfill the purpose of the daughter, one for the mother to fulfill her motherly duty of breastfeeding and being a general support centre and for the father to perform his fatherly duty of providing for her needs and stifling her spirit. Sutemaru (voice of Kengo Kora), a childhood friend and crush is a given a brief respite by her appearance. His general direction of life doesn’t change at all, but the princess provides a wishful glance at what his life would have been like had he not been tied down to his circumstances. The noblemen who try to court her are given lessons in their own shortcomings while the emperor is shown that just because he is the emperor doesn’t mean he can have whatever he wants or do whatever he thinks.
Princess Kaguya is an elegiac film and there may be times when the tone becomes so mournful it becomes unbearable. But that’s part of the experience and the wonderful animation is in line with the emotions of the story. This turned out to be Takahata’s last film and this is a crowning achievement for maybe the greatest auteur in the field of animation.
In Summary
Best film(s) : Pom Poko/ The Tale of Princess Kaguya
Miyazaki’s best film(s) : Spirited Away/ The Wind Rises
Worst film : Princess Mononoke
Takahata’s worst film : My Neighbors the Yamadas (what to say, his resume is spotless)
Best on a lazy afternoon : Porco Rosso
Best to watch with family : My Neighbors the Yamadas/ Spirited Away/ Ponyo
Most beautiful : The Tale of Princess Kaguya
Most traditionally beautiful : Ponyo
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