Miyazaki Goro's sophomore attempt at directing proves that he can stand
apart from his legendary father, but perhaps he is still walking in the
shadow of the behemoth Studio Ghibli. However, his recent work does not
back down in its fight to earn a place in their legacy.
From Up on Poppy Hill gives us the standard we expect from a Ghibli
film: beautiful art, consistent and vibrant animation complementing
stories and characters with either a whole lot of heart or charm and
sometimes both. However, while Miyazaki makes all the right steps, he
has a long way to go to give us something that is clearly
his, something that makes us say "That's a Goro film". While every
Ghibli movie feels like a distinctly magical journey, this one never
quite gets there. Yet where it's headed is nowhere bad at all.
Set in the post-war, pre-Olympics 1960s Japan, From Up on Poppy Hill
successfully re-creates a time and place where the protagonists Umi and
Shun meet and fall in love. Their hesitant romance does not come without
life's complications. They meet for the first time twice; once, as Shun
and Umi unknowingly communicate to one another through Umi's maritime
flags, and again at school where daringly, Shun makes a bold and stupid
move to save the school's clubhouse. There seems to be a shared destiny,
as Shun travels on his father's tugboat every morning, seeing raised
flags trying to find a lost soul, and as Umi reaches down into a pool to
accept his hand as he emerges from a pool. However, they both come to
learn that their paths have crossed even before their meeting. While
their romance is sweet, shy at times and quiet, there is a secret
between their families that forces them both to acknowledge and accept
that they should not continue with one another. They cannot help but
fall in love anyway.
Miyazaki portrays life's disruptions and joys with gentility. Even
though the twists and turns are the subject of ridiculous soap operas,
Miyazaki's respectful handling of the feelings and characters involved
creates a different experience. What could be seen as trite, ends up as
palpable, never overwrought drama. Although the way things neaten up
happily by the end seems to be too easy a resolution. The secret
involves an actually compelling issue that could have been explored
further, but the safest neatest way is the route chosen.
Umi and Shun manage as likeable and sweet characters, though they don't
exceed our expectations of them. The other supporting characters give
life to the film and they all occupy a space that feels very much like
it's theirs. Without them, there'd be no personality in the boarding
house, school and town. Despite being worthwhile extras, they aren't
memorable side characters (like the old woman from My Neighbour Totoro
or the artist in the woods from Kiki's Delivery Service). The film
resolves to let them be adequate, not exceptional.
As aforementioned, From Up on Poppy Hill has been Ghibli-stamped and
approved for its visual quality. Despite having a montage sequence with
still shots (which seems to be very much contrary to Studio Ghibli's
reputation for painstaking detail and excellence), the entire film looks
spectacular.While it does not boast the stunning scope of the Ghibli
epics or the fantastical vision of the others or even the technical
genius, it has the quiet, solid sensibilities of movies like Whisper of
the Heart and Only Yesterday. In fact, this film might take you right
back to Whisper of the Heart, Kondou Yoshifumi's great masterpiece.
(Although Umi and Shun's romance does not hit the highs of Shizuku and
Seiji's; perhaps due to Shizuku being such a strong, charismatic and
compelling protagonist, while Umi is less powerful and effective as a
lead). We remember from Only Yesterday the stagnant beautiful
countryside, we remember from Whisper of the Heart the urban sprawl of a
modern city, and in From Up on Poppy Hill, we find a Yokohama and its
beautiful seaside in the midst of industrial growth and change.
The one place where From Up on Poppy Hill disappoints is its music.
Ghibli films tend to boast timelessly powerful scores and soundtracks.
The music here tries to invoke a sense of place and time. While this
works marvelously in some cases (for instance, the use of Sakamoto Kyu's
eternally lovely classic "Ue o Muite Arukou"), it misses in many
others. Some tracks just seem to undo the overall atmosphere and the
results are noticeable.
Miyazaki's vision is much more focussed for this film as compared to
Tales from Earthsea, a project that from even its conception was
problematic. From Up on Poppy Hill is more relaxed in tone, and perhaps
this was Miyazaki's own stance to his film-making. What I said earlier
about the characters can perhaps be said about the film itself: it is
adequate, though not exceptional.
From Up on Poppy Hill is a definite must-watch for those disappointed
with Miyazaki Goro. The film shows how much he has grown as a filmmaker.
This is a satisfying little movie. Maybe his next attempt will give us
something a bit more fulfilling. Certainly this taste has left us
hungering for more from this director. You're certainly not going to
watch this film condemning it for not being like his father's art and
you won't watch it and think it's like his father's work either. It
doesn't feel like a Hayao film or a Takahata film. It's not trying to
be. Goro and Yonebayashi (director of Arrietty) have their work cut out
for them to leave their signatures on their movies, but given time,
perhaps their vision will become clearer.
In the meantime, Miyazaki Goro shall walk looking up.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Anime Review: Ookami Kodomo no Ame to Yuki (Wolf Children)
Ookami Kodomo no Ame to Yuki literally means "Wolf Children Ame and
Yuki". What the film's title promises is accurate, but this is a
secondary to what the film is actually about. This is a movie entirely
about the enduring and triumphant nature of maternal love.
Teenage Hana is a hardworking girl putting herself through college. During a class, her eyes fall on a man who enthusiastically and diligently takes notes, but he has no textbooks and he disappears before roll is taken. Intrigued, she searches him out and learns that he sits through classes but doesn't attend the school. From what we see, he works with a moving company, delivering goods to houses. He comes to university and bums through classes to learn. Hana works at a laundromat to make ends meet, and meets him when her day is over. We never learn of this man's name, but he becomes Hana's world, and she, his. Then their worlds are joined then broadened with the births of their children.
To call this film a movie about "werewolves" is doing it a mighty injustice. To call it a spirited, charming and heart-rending look about family is more accurate. And while it is always about the "ookami no kodomo", it is carried by Hana's life. Hana does what she can to keep her children safe and alive. She removes them from the urbanised world and carries them deep into a rural village where they are free to develop and understand the other half of them.
The film can be divided into three clear arcs. The first finds Hana in love, developing a relationship. The second follows Hana's struggles to raise her young children who have special needs. The final one sees her settled while her children attempt to find their own places in the world. A recurring theme throughout each arc is that there is a reason to always keep smiling.
Ookami Kodomo is a film of change and self-discovery. Yuki begins the film feral and wild, easily embracing her lupine half while Ame, tearful and timid, is afraid of what it means to be part-wolf. As the years pass, Hana's resolve remains unwavering, but her children grow apart from her as children naturally do. With this growth, they also change. The film changes focus from Hana as the children grow older, giving us their insight and feelings about who they are. Yuki's desire to belong allows her to channel charisma into socialising with peers. Ame's introversion makes him steely and independent. Yuki wants to embrace her humanity while Ame wants to explore the animal. Ame and Yuki yearn for something more, just as their mother knows they would but is afraid to acknowledge.
The story carefully and gently handles the fantasy so that it never overwhelms the film. There are no transformation hijinks or forced comedy or drama. The film treats the wolf children naturally. They seamlessly transform into their wolf-forms and out again. Some of the greatest scenes animated in the movie are these transformations as they move in and out of their dual identities.
The animation for the most part is fluid, with beautiful art painting a lovely countryside and the wilderness. Sometimes the film suffers from poorly chosen CGI effects, repeated animation and disproportionate character models, but this does not take away from the movie's overall beauty. Hana and the children's country home is clearly inspired by the 1988 classic My Neighbour Totoro, even down to Yuki's exuberant exploration of the broken down shed and the wild grass growing everywhere. Adding to the atmosphere of the film is a well-thought out score which knows precisely what type of music fits a mood. Sometimes, especially in the beginning and ending of the film, it can be a little heavy-handed with its emotional outbursts, but largely, it works and it makes itself invaluable to the film's impact. The voice-acting for the movie is one of its strongest aspects. Having child actors to play Yuki and Ame's characters in their toddler stages was a wise choice, as their earnest delivery of their lines makes the characters more genuine and loveable.
Ookami Kodomo's characters are the major reason that any viewer will become easily involved. Hana is one of the most inspirational characters ever to be given life through animation. Her love for her family is apparent. If anything, I'm pretty sure some of this film's audience is going to feel a pang of affection for their own mothers. She dutifully cares for them in ways that are admirable and it is her unbreakable spirit and positive disposition that makes her noteworthy. She is a strong woman and an even stronger mother. The mysterious man who she loves doesn't have the chance to be developed but it is this shroud around him that works to his character's benefit. We care for him through Hana's affections; in one particularly jarring scene, we understand what he means to her and this breaks our heart more than he himself ever would.
Yuki and Ame carry the film in places their mother cannot. While her hopes and fears for them are palpable, it is their experience of hope and of fear that makes these feelings more acute. Yuki's voice takes us through the entire film with its steady narration, and her character grows from precocious and brave child to a young girl who unfortunately knows what it means to be afraid. Ame's behaviour becomes a bit frustrating in the end of the film, but to understand him in the context of an animal, it makes perfect sense. He is a wolf.
The rest of the cast is made up of extremely likeable characters, including the old man who looks after Hana when she moves to the village and Souhei, a boy who crosses paths with Yuki. Even non-speaking, non-human characters like the caged wolf whose pain Ame senses and the wild fox whose freedom Ame respects are indispensable.
While the film's imperfections are honestly very few, they add up enough to have it stop just short of being a masterpiece. With some tighter editing of the story, cleaner and consistent art and animation, more precise handling of the characters, and a more memorable soundtrack, it easily would have been a masterwork of anime. As it is, it is still essential viewing for anyone interested in a movie that looks at growing up and raising a family. It is a mature, insightful and often painful reflection of how deeply we feel about those we love and inevitably have to let go of.
Teenage Hana is a hardworking girl putting herself through college. During a class, her eyes fall on a man who enthusiastically and diligently takes notes, but he has no textbooks and he disappears before roll is taken. Intrigued, she searches him out and learns that he sits through classes but doesn't attend the school. From what we see, he works with a moving company, delivering goods to houses. He comes to university and bums through classes to learn. Hana works at a laundromat to make ends meet, and meets him when her day is over. We never learn of this man's name, but he becomes Hana's world, and she, his. Then their worlds are joined then broadened with the births of their children.
To call this film a movie about "werewolves" is doing it a mighty injustice. To call it a spirited, charming and heart-rending look about family is more accurate. And while it is always about the "ookami no kodomo", it is carried by Hana's life. Hana does what she can to keep her children safe and alive. She removes them from the urbanised world and carries them deep into a rural village where they are free to develop and understand the other half of them.
The film can be divided into three clear arcs. The first finds Hana in love, developing a relationship. The second follows Hana's struggles to raise her young children who have special needs. The final one sees her settled while her children attempt to find their own places in the world. A recurring theme throughout each arc is that there is a reason to always keep smiling.
Ookami Kodomo is a film of change and self-discovery. Yuki begins the film feral and wild, easily embracing her lupine half while Ame, tearful and timid, is afraid of what it means to be part-wolf. As the years pass, Hana's resolve remains unwavering, but her children grow apart from her as children naturally do. With this growth, they also change. The film changes focus from Hana as the children grow older, giving us their insight and feelings about who they are. Yuki's desire to belong allows her to channel charisma into socialising with peers. Ame's introversion makes him steely and independent. Yuki wants to embrace her humanity while Ame wants to explore the animal. Ame and Yuki yearn for something more, just as their mother knows they would but is afraid to acknowledge.
The story carefully and gently handles the fantasy so that it never overwhelms the film. There are no transformation hijinks or forced comedy or drama. The film treats the wolf children naturally. They seamlessly transform into their wolf-forms and out again. Some of the greatest scenes animated in the movie are these transformations as they move in and out of their dual identities.
The animation for the most part is fluid, with beautiful art painting a lovely countryside and the wilderness. Sometimes the film suffers from poorly chosen CGI effects, repeated animation and disproportionate character models, but this does not take away from the movie's overall beauty. Hana and the children's country home is clearly inspired by the 1988 classic My Neighbour Totoro, even down to Yuki's exuberant exploration of the broken down shed and the wild grass growing everywhere. Adding to the atmosphere of the film is a well-thought out score which knows precisely what type of music fits a mood. Sometimes, especially in the beginning and ending of the film, it can be a little heavy-handed with its emotional outbursts, but largely, it works and it makes itself invaluable to the film's impact. The voice-acting for the movie is one of its strongest aspects. Having child actors to play Yuki and Ame's characters in their toddler stages was a wise choice, as their earnest delivery of their lines makes the characters more genuine and loveable.
Ookami Kodomo's characters are the major reason that any viewer will become easily involved. Hana is one of the most inspirational characters ever to be given life through animation. Her love for her family is apparent. If anything, I'm pretty sure some of this film's audience is going to feel a pang of affection for their own mothers. She dutifully cares for them in ways that are admirable and it is her unbreakable spirit and positive disposition that makes her noteworthy. She is a strong woman and an even stronger mother. The mysterious man who she loves doesn't have the chance to be developed but it is this shroud around him that works to his character's benefit. We care for him through Hana's affections; in one particularly jarring scene, we understand what he means to her and this breaks our heart more than he himself ever would.
Yuki and Ame carry the film in places their mother cannot. While her hopes and fears for them are palpable, it is their experience of hope and of fear that makes these feelings more acute. Yuki's voice takes us through the entire film with its steady narration, and her character grows from precocious and brave child to a young girl who unfortunately knows what it means to be afraid. Ame's behaviour becomes a bit frustrating in the end of the film, but to understand him in the context of an animal, it makes perfect sense. He is a wolf.
The rest of the cast is made up of extremely likeable characters, including the old man who looks after Hana when she moves to the village and Souhei, a boy who crosses paths with Yuki. Even non-speaking, non-human characters like the caged wolf whose pain Ame senses and the wild fox whose freedom Ame respects are indispensable.
While the film's imperfections are honestly very few, they add up enough to have it stop just short of being a masterpiece. With some tighter editing of the story, cleaner and consistent art and animation, more precise handling of the characters, and a more memorable soundtrack, it easily would have been a masterwork of anime. As it is, it is still essential viewing for anyone interested in a movie that looks at growing up and raising a family. It is a mature, insightful and often painful reflection of how deeply we feel about those we love and inevitably have to let go of.
Anime Review: Shingeki no Kyojin (Attack on Titan)
If there was ever an anime experience that would leave you needing
therapy, marathon-watching Shingeki no Kyojin is it. Perhaps this is the
best way to watch this series; by the end, you'd be so emotionally
exhausted and mangled, you'll know what total despair is like. Not since
Berserk have I seen an anime capable of utterly destroying... hope. Yet
in spite of its soul-crushing hopelessness, Shingeki no Kyojin is
entirely about hope. Without it, mankind would have nothing.
In this world, giants roam the land. These "titans" (as it's been anglicised) prey on human beings. They are brutal, violent and unstoppable. Their arrival is as mysterious as their motives. They do not eat to live. They do not eat anything else. They consume human beings and vomit them out. Humans have become worse than livestock on the food chain. At least sheep or cows are eaten for a reason. There is no discernible purpose for why the titans eat humans. They just do, and living with this fear and confusion behind the giant walls of the last known stronghold is the dwindled population of all of humanity. They've been able to keep the titans out for over a hundred years. Life in a cage, but life nonetheless.
Shingeki no Kyojin begins with the protagonist Eren Jaeger questioning whether this kind of life is worth it. Freedom does not mean breathing boxed in, awaiting death. That's not life and he vows to use whatever power he has to fight the titans. With him is Mikasa, a girl adopted by his family, and his friend Armin. While Eren is strong-willed and rash, Mikasa is calculated and fierce and Armin is thoughtful and soft-hearted; the trio play off one another's strengths and weaknesses in order to survive. And this anime becomes a war for survival.
Eren makes for a dependable protagonist. He carries the series well, despite having some "shounen hero" tendencies but perhaps his enthusiasm is necessary in a world where people drop their swords and flee in the face of danger or who opt to police within the safe walls of the rich inner cities. However, Mikasa is probably the show's great hero. Powerful, naturally gifted and determined, she carries Eren whenever he falls. As he is her only family, she is terribly protective of him. She lives entirely for him, and this may seem to be the only detriment to her character, but her loyalty to him is understandable when you learn of their past. Armin will be nobody's favourite off the bat. Wimpy, small and unable to fight, he has developed his intellect instead. The other characters are well-crafted and have distinct personalities (though they are just as many "Who's that again?" ones as well). Some of the stand-outs are Levi, a very short, extremely experienced and talented captain, Sasha, a girl who seems to gladly choose getting punched in the face by her superiors if it means she can get a potato, Annie, who like Mikasa is very strong and capable, and Jean, a spoiled and cowardly soldier who eventually becomes someone whose growth you can possibly be proud of. It's easy to like them... but maybe it's not entirely wise.
One of Shingeki no Kyojin's characteristics is that nothing and nobody is safe. It is not afraid of itself. It does not shy away from brutalising its audience or characters because honestly, this is a horrible place and time to be alive. It constantly reminds you of human mortality and fragility. Some people might tell you "don't get attached to anyone". Sound advice, but you won't take it. The characters in this series are constructed so well that you will root for them as they pick up their swords and then cry out in disbelieving grief as you see them crushed like a mosquito. Blood and then silence. It's not entirely right to say "nobody is safe" as plot-immortality applies to certain characters and that is quite evident. Although the anime is going to make you doubt yourself.
Gone are the anime physics where someone can go flying into a wall and can get up without a scratch. If someone flies into a wall in this anime, that's it. Game over, man. Game over. This is no anime for children; it is a complete bloodbath. It is not afraid to show you crushed limbs, torn-away faces, stinking, steaming bones, people's necks being snapped like chickens. It doesn't shy away from letting you hear screams of people facing their last moment on earth.
But it's not the violence alone that will sock you hard ones to the stomach -- it's the story itself. The concepts behind what is presented and also actual events will have you reeling. The second arc of this anime more or less will have you screaming "NO, IT CAN'T BE". Because you simply don't want to believe what you're seeing or who it involves. The entire series will have you holding your head wondering what is going on. The characters themselves don't really know, and you share that confusion with them. Shingeki no Kyojin's story is by far one of the most creative and well-crafted in modern anime history. It has the right tone, focus and content. It develops surprisingly at every turn. This is an anime you cannot necessarily lay out a trajectory for in terms of what is going to happen. You take every episode like it is tomorrow -- you ultimately cannot know what can or will happen.
Visually, it boasts some finely animated fight scenes, especially when the soldiers use their gear to go "flying" through the city. This gear is pretty inventive and can be likened to Spider-Man's web-slinging. The soldiers train to be agile and precise using this gear as it catapults them through the air. The best users of this know how to manoeuvre throughout a city block, across a titan's back or across the sky as though it were their first nature. The animation makes sure to keep you on your toes during action scenes, angling shots to keep momentum or knowing just how close to do a close-up for the best effect. The dark lines and general colourlessness of the art style keeps with the tone of the overall series. However, you can see where budgetary shortcuts were had, and while nothing to deter from the series, it is not quite perfect. Music-wise, the sound builds on the horror and the dramatic tension, and while some tracks are certainly recognisable as you watch on, they aren't entirely memorable.
Shingeki no Kyojin is all about experiencing it. You can have time later to think about what's happening or to theorise, but there is no time for that in the midst of watching. There are only held breaths, churning stomachs, wide eyes and feelings of absolute horror. There are times when humanity seems to be getting somewhere, where you think, okay, there's a chance now. Hope. It exists somewhere, as small as it might be, hidden in the depths of crushing losses and corpses and city rubble. It's there, and that's what Eren and his friends will give their lives to find.
In this world, giants roam the land. These "titans" (as it's been anglicised) prey on human beings. They are brutal, violent and unstoppable. Their arrival is as mysterious as their motives. They do not eat to live. They do not eat anything else. They consume human beings and vomit them out. Humans have become worse than livestock on the food chain. At least sheep or cows are eaten for a reason. There is no discernible purpose for why the titans eat humans. They just do, and living with this fear and confusion behind the giant walls of the last known stronghold is the dwindled population of all of humanity. They've been able to keep the titans out for over a hundred years. Life in a cage, but life nonetheless.
Shingeki no Kyojin begins with the protagonist Eren Jaeger questioning whether this kind of life is worth it. Freedom does not mean breathing boxed in, awaiting death. That's not life and he vows to use whatever power he has to fight the titans. With him is Mikasa, a girl adopted by his family, and his friend Armin. While Eren is strong-willed and rash, Mikasa is calculated and fierce and Armin is thoughtful and soft-hearted; the trio play off one another's strengths and weaknesses in order to survive. And this anime becomes a war for survival.
Eren makes for a dependable protagonist. He carries the series well, despite having some "shounen hero" tendencies but perhaps his enthusiasm is necessary in a world where people drop their swords and flee in the face of danger or who opt to police within the safe walls of the rich inner cities. However, Mikasa is probably the show's great hero. Powerful, naturally gifted and determined, she carries Eren whenever he falls. As he is her only family, she is terribly protective of him. She lives entirely for him, and this may seem to be the only detriment to her character, but her loyalty to him is understandable when you learn of their past. Armin will be nobody's favourite off the bat. Wimpy, small and unable to fight, he has developed his intellect instead. The other characters are well-crafted and have distinct personalities (though they are just as many "Who's that again?" ones as well). Some of the stand-outs are Levi, a very short, extremely experienced and talented captain, Sasha, a girl who seems to gladly choose getting punched in the face by her superiors if it means she can get a potato, Annie, who like Mikasa is very strong and capable, and Jean, a spoiled and cowardly soldier who eventually becomes someone whose growth you can possibly be proud of. It's easy to like them... but maybe it's not entirely wise.
One of Shingeki no Kyojin's characteristics is that nothing and nobody is safe. It is not afraid of itself. It does not shy away from brutalising its audience or characters because honestly, this is a horrible place and time to be alive. It constantly reminds you of human mortality and fragility. Some people might tell you "don't get attached to anyone". Sound advice, but you won't take it. The characters in this series are constructed so well that you will root for them as they pick up their swords and then cry out in disbelieving grief as you see them crushed like a mosquito. Blood and then silence. It's not entirely right to say "nobody is safe" as plot-immortality applies to certain characters and that is quite evident. Although the anime is going to make you doubt yourself.
Gone are the anime physics where someone can go flying into a wall and can get up without a scratch. If someone flies into a wall in this anime, that's it. Game over, man. Game over. This is no anime for children; it is a complete bloodbath. It is not afraid to show you crushed limbs, torn-away faces, stinking, steaming bones, people's necks being snapped like chickens. It doesn't shy away from letting you hear screams of people facing their last moment on earth.
But it's not the violence alone that will sock you hard ones to the stomach -- it's the story itself. The concepts behind what is presented and also actual events will have you reeling. The second arc of this anime more or less will have you screaming "NO, IT CAN'T BE". Because you simply don't want to believe what you're seeing or who it involves. The entire series will have you holding your head wondering what is going on. The characters themselves don't really know, and you share that confusion with them. Shingeki no Kyojin's story is by far one of the most creative and well-crafted in modern anime history. It has the right tone, focus and content. It develops surprisingly at every turn. This is an anime you cannot necessarily lay out a trajectory for in terms of what is going to happen. You take every episode like it is tomorrow -- you ultimately cannot know what can or will happen.
Visually, it boasts some finely animated fight scenes, especially when the soldiers use their gear to go "flying" through the city. This gear is pretty inventive and can be likened to Spider-Man's web-slinging. The soldiers train to be agile and precise using this gear as it catapults them through the air. The best users of this know how to manoeuvre throughout a city block, across a titan's back or across the sky as though it were their first nature. The animation makes sure to keep you on your toes during action scenes, angling shots to keep momentum or knowing just how close to do a close-up for the best effect. The dark lines and general colourlessness of the art style keeps with the tone of the overall series. However, you can see where budgetary shortcuts were had, and while nothing to deter from the series, it is not quite perfect. Music-wise, the sound builds on the horror and the dramatic tension, and while some tracks are certainly recognisable as you watch on, they aren't entirely memorable.
Shingeki no Kyojin is all about experiencing it. You can have time later to think about what's happening or to theorise, but there is no time for that in the midst of watching. There are only held breaths, churning stomachs, wide eyes and feelings of absolute horror. There are times when humanity seems to be getting somewhere, where you think, okay, there's a chance now. Hope. It exists somewhere, as small as it might be, hidden in the depths of crushing losses and corpses and city rubble. It's there, and that's what Eren and his friends will give their lives to find.
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