Movie Review: The World of Hans Christian Andersen (1968)

The World of Hans Christian Andersen is the American title to the 1968 Toei Doga animated feature Andersen Monogatari ("The Story of Andersen"). It was released in the US in 1971 by United Artists, in partnership with the legendary Hal Roach Studios, who handled the English-language dub.

The movie tells the tale of a young Hans Christian Andersen, who meets a magical storyteller who arrives to Earth from Heaven in order to guide the boy and inspire his talents as a storyteller. As young Hans observes the lives of the villagers around him, we see the trappings of the fairy tales that would make him famous. There are cartoon mice, cats and dogs, as well as about a hundred song-and-dance numbers.

Personally, I am not a great fan of this movie. Of all the Hiroshi Okawa-era Toei Doga movies (1958-1972), The World of Hans Christian Andersen feels the most formulaic, the most cliched, the most, shall we say, Disney-esque. In every way, it is a stereotypical "family cartoon" with sing-along songs, simple characters, contrived plot points, and an overall atmosphere of suffocating niceness. The swelling strings of the orchestra are pure cheese. This is a movie very specifically made for very small children who would be easily distracted and amused.

What made the classic Toei movies so compelling is how they learned the lessons of Walt Disney without copying his movies. Instead, they learned to adapt their own folk tales and legends, learned how to incorporate a purely Asian flavor to their animated features. In time, the animators learned new ways of expression, and new paradigms emerged which eventually became "anime." This movie, however, represents a massive thrust backwards. It is nowhere near the level of Hakujaden, Saiyuki, or Little Prince and the Eight-Headed Dragon, Toei's best animated features up to that point.

Here's why I believe that happened. This movie was released in March of 1968, ahead of another Toei feature that was supposed to be completed and released earlier. It's name: The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun, the revolutionary anime masterpiece directed by Isao Takahata and helmed by Hayao Miyazaki, Yasuo Otsuka, Yoichi Kotabe, Reiko Okuyama and Yasuji Mori. The battle to create Horus lasted the better part of three years, ran massively over-budget and severely damaged relations with the production staff and its labor union (of which Takahata, Miyazaki and Otsuka served leading roles).

To the studio bosses of the day, Horus was an albatross, a dark, brooding, violent mess that would almost certainly give children heart attacks. It might even scare them away from Toei forever, into the waiting arms of rival animation studios that were flooding television screens. Something needed to be done to keep that traditional audience in place, and to prevent them from fleeing.

I believe this is the reason why Andersen Monogatari was made. It is the safest and most "child-friendly" movie the studio had ever made. It was a purely defensive move against a feared backlash, to say nothing about recovering all that money that was being spent on Horus (which ended up being the studio's biggest box-office flop, but that was at least partly due to studio sabotage as anything).

Hans Christian Andersen is not a bad movie. It's just very uninspired and very, very "safe." It could have been assembled by committee, and very likely was. To be fair, all the studio's best talent was locked up with Horus, leaving very few skilled animators or artists available for anything else (Jack and the Witch, Toei's 1967 feature, suffered from the same problem). The animation is lacking any real spark or inventiveness, never straying from the instruction manual, it seems. The story lacks inspiration in its characters or setting.

In the movie's defense, I do enjoy the "Little Match Girl" story thread the weaves in and out and supplies the climax. Here, the movie seems to have found a proper balance, striking an emotional cue that is fitting to Andersen's stories. The movie ends on a strong note. It probably doesn't matter that before the year was out, Horus, Prince of the Sun would completely demolish it to rubble. The World of Hans Christian Andersen is like that act on The Ed Sullivan Show that came on stage just before The Beatles. Does anyone remember that guy? No, of course not. Which is precisely the point.

P.S. The World of Hans Christian Andersen was recently uploaded to YouTube, in the original Japanese, where one person noted that the movie's final 25 minutes syncs up perfectly with David Bowie's Low album. That gave me a chuckle. These are the sort of things that make me question if we're really living in The Matrix.

Hayao Miyazaki Short Films: Mei and the Kittenbus (2003)

Here are some photos from the 2003 Ghibli Museum short film Mei and the Kittenbus. Directed by Hayao Miyazaki, this is a sequel of sorts to the beloved children's classic My Neighbor Totoro.

Mei and the Kittenbus is fairly short, roughly ten minutes. In the first sequence, young Mei playing around her family house until she discovers a new friend, the "kittenbus," who is a pint-sized version of Catbus. The two play and frolic around and have a good time.

In the second sequence, Mei is awakened at night by Kittenbus, who takes her on a journey, where they discover dozens of "cat buses" of all shapes and sizes, and populated by hundreds of large Totoros. Everyone is joining together to meet the elder Catbus, the oldest and largest of them all (and voiced by Miyazaki himself). Here, Mei is reunited with Totoro, who is still carrying his umbrella.

Everyone is happy and cheerful. Mei is returned to her home, and the story ends.

While this film, like all the Ghibli Museum short films, remain exclusively in Japan, Westerners can purchase the official art books, which include large screenshots detailing the stories. These are nice collectibles and very valuable for scholars who wish to discover this little-known aspect of Studio Ghibli.

Will Mei and the Kittenbus ever be shown outside of Japan? Not likely, at least not while Miyazaki is still alive. The museum was created with a decidedly non-commercial approach, deliberately avoiding the mass consumerism of a Disneyland. Because of this, the museum's short films are intended to be seen only there, with no possibility of a home video release.

Even after Miyazaki passes (hopefully not for many more years), Toshio Suzuki will likely still honor his friend's wishes. Whoever ends up controlling Studio Ghibli after the original founders are gone will likely decide the fate of these movies. But that's not a conversation we're ready to have, for obvious reasons. I'll gladly prefer to keep these movies in the vault in exchange for keeping Miyazaki around a little longer.

Movie Review: Ghiblies "Episode 1" (2000)

Ghiblies was a 12-minute animated short that aired on NHK TV in Japan in April 8, 2000, as part of a  television special about Spirited Away, which was then in production and scheduled for release the following year. It is among the most rare pieces in the Studio Ghibli canon; it has never been released on any home video format, and only appears now and then on social media sites.

The cartoon is a spoof of Studio Ghibli, and all of the characters are based on the staff, led by the Machiavellian Toshio Suzuki, who seems to delight in tormenting his workers. One interesting character is a ghost who is actually a corporate spy sent by a rival animation studio, but chose to remain as part of the Ghibli staff. Much of the material seen in this special was later reworked in the 2002 theatrical short Ghiblies Episode 2.

The art and animation design follows the sparse watercolor approach as My Neighbors the Yamada, which, at the time, was the latest feature film by the studio. This is an interesting approach, as Yamada was a box-office bomb and the studio's biggest commercial failure (one would think Ghibli would want nothing to do with it). There may also have been a rift between the two directors, which led to Takahata's withdrawal from directing. In the 2013 documentary The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness, Miyazaki is still visibly upset about Takahata's management of Ghibli during the production of Yamada, where the studio restructured from cel animation to computers (all subsequent Ghibli movies have been created digitally).

In 2003, Takahata contributed one short scene for the anthology film Winter Days, and then returned for the 2010 Anne of Green Gables anthology movie that was given a brief theatrical run. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya would arrive three years later, receiving an Academy Awards nomination.

It's fascinating, then, to see Ghibli return to that watercolor style for a number of short film projects, including Ghiblies. It speaks well to their talents as artists that they are willing to continue the visual experimentation. Working in television also gave them an added degree of freedom, creating some of the studio's best work.

Both Ghiblies episodes were directed by Yoshiyuki Momose, who by all measures was the studio's true heir to the director's chair. He directed three Capsule music videos in 2004 and 2005, which are probably my favorite animated shorts created by Ghibli (specifically, Ghibli offshoot Studio Kajino). He developed a unique way of joining hand-drawn and computer animation that is wholly unique, and suggests an alternate future where Studio Ghibli, and anime in general, could have evolved. Why he was never given a feature film to direct remains an astonishing mystery, and an astonishing blunder.

In any case, get your hands on Ghiblies "Episode 1" by any means necessary. And tell Studio Ghibli to release it on home video, already. Shut up and take our money!

Update: Oh, look, somebody uploaded it to YouTube. It plays at double the speed, presumably to evade the copyright bots, and the subtitles are in French, but you'll be fine.

Hayao Miyazaki Short Films: Imaginary Flying Machines (2002)

Imaginary Flying Machines (Kuusou no Sora Tobu Kikaitachi) is a 2002 short film directed by Hayao Miyazaki, and created exclusively for the Ghibli Museum in Mitaka, Japan. It is devoted to Miyazaki's favorite subject, aircraft. The visual imagery evokes Jules Verne, Fritz Lang, Albert Robida, and what is known as "steampunk." The many flying machines, real and very imagined, are some of the most dazzling of the director's career.

This film was a companion piece to a Ghibli Museum exhibit titled, "Castle in the Sky and Imaginary Science Fiction Machines." This exhibit used Studio Ghibli's inaugural film as starting point for examining, and romanticizing, the early years of flight.  One animated sequence actually shows Pazu putting the finishing touches to his aircraft that we saw in the 1986 movie. And to a great extent, Imaginary Flying Machines plays out like an extension of Laputa's title sequence (the theme song plays in my head when I look at these images).

The extravagent painterly style, the use of pig characters, including Miyazaki's voice-over narration, all evoke the feel of Miyazaki's manga comics. There is usually a dividing line between his comics and his animated movies; in terms of complex compositions, framing and layouts, detailed cross-sections of machines, more evident use of pencil and brushstrokes. One can easily see the comics form as Miyazaki's true vision, the goal his animations aspire to reach. And here is a rare opportunity where the two forms meet; perhaps this is only attainable in short-form animation? Time and budgetary pressures for feature-length animation would probably make this visual style impossible.

It's important to remember just how recent an invention aircraft are, and how old the dream of flight lived in the human imagination. Miyazaki's visions aim back to those older romanticisms, those lofty dreams of what it must be like to fly like birds, and dance among the clouds. The reality of commercial flight, by contrast, feels mundane, almost ordinary. A flight from Minneapolis to New York is no different than a ride on the light rail train to the Mall of America, or a bus trip to Dinkytown. It's all so damned boring and soulless, the product of a boring and soulless civilization. I would much rather take a ride on Miyazaki's imaginary flying machines, thank you very much.

I have no doubt that, one day, we will have a home video collection of all the Ghibli Museum short films. On that day, Imaginary Flying Machines will achive its much-deserved fame. This movie deserves to be seen.

More screenshots (taken from the Ghibli Museum book) appear after the jump break:

In Defense of Lucasfilm's Strange Magic

Animation scholar (and notorious CGI curmedgeon) Michael Barrier comes to the defense of the much-maligned Lucasfilm-producted animated feature, Strange Magic:

Strange Magic is strange, all right, and the first hour or so is awful in the usual CGI manner. There's a thick crust of elaborated surfaces, way too much smarty-pants dialogue, a frantically restless camera, rapid cutting that repeatedly tests the weary eyeball's ability to keep up, and, especially, characters—elves and fairies and such—who, when they're not the usual plasticine dolls, resemble all too closely, but not really closely enough, their predecessors in roughly comparable films like Pixar's A Bug's Life, whose grasshopper villain anticipates the Bog King in the new film. (You can dismiss any thoughts of A Midsummer Night's Dream, supposedly the basis for the story, which is credited, if that's the word, to Lucas). What makes Strange Magic really strange is that it's a jukebox musical, with a soundtrack assembled from pop songs spanning several decades. Most of the music undermines any charm to be found in the fairy-tale visuals, and there's not enough wit evident in the choice of the songs, which conceivably could have been used to create a sort of alternative atmosphere: fey but with tongue in cheek.

To my surprise, though, I left the theater feeling quite cheerful, and with warm feelings for Strange Magic and its makers. Like the other people working on CGI features, they were imprisoned in a creative straitjacket, condemned to make a cartoon of the sort the market supposedly requires, but they found an escape route in the conflict between the two principal characters, the Bog King and the fairy princess Marianne. Even though they're antagonists at first, the Bog King is never presented as a coal-black villain, and so there's an opening first for comedy, and then, eventually, for a full-blown romance. There is, remarkably, nothing arbitrary or abrupt about how the relationship evolves. There is instead a gradual change in their feelings for each other—not a steady progression, but the sort of back and forth that occurs as two people come to care for each other even when they have no reason to expect such an outcome. In other words, Strange Magic felt to me surprisngly real at its core.

Movie Review: Arabian Nights: The Adventures of Sinbad (1962)

Arabian Nights: The Adventures of Sinbad (1962) is Toei Doga's fifth animated feature film, and second of three films to include the collaboration of the great Osamu Tezuka, the "God of Japanese Manga Comics." It's a rollicking spectacle that includes legendary treasures, heaving seas, great whales, and a cast of characters who will be familiar to anyone who's a fan of The Thief of Baghdad or Disney's Aladdin.

While I wouldn't rate this movie as highly as the aforementioned others, The Adventures of Sinbad is a very entertaining ride. There is an impressive amount of effects animation, a couple of very nice song numbers, and a third act that is exciting to watch. The Toei Doga films often excel in their third acts. Being a movie set largely at sea, there is a lot of terrific water animation, and I'm impressed at how the animators drew upon Asian art, and their own intuitive sense of timing, to create their art.

I also enjoy how these Toei Doga animators continued to innovate and push their limits with each film. They weren't content to recycle the same formula again and again. There's a clear distinction between Hakujaden, Sosuke Shonen Sarutobe, Saiyuki, Anju to Zushiomaru, and Sinbad. That's because, to a great extent, these people are making up the rules as they go. They're learning and experimenting and developing animation theory on their own. Eventually, all of the little experiments lead to major breakthroughs, seen in Saiyuki and Eight Headed Dragon, and finally leading to the complete paradigm break/shift in Horus, Prince of the Sun.

Why do these Toei Doga movies remain so completely unknown to animation lovers? It's true that many of these movies were translated and adapted to US theatrical releases in the 1960s, but most of those are extremely obscure, and many titles such as "Panda and the Magic Serpent" and "Gulliver's Travels Beyond the Moon" appear to have drifted onto the public domain.  Fan translations have, once again, delivered the goods, making it possible for this "lost era" in animation history to be discovered.

As always, we are deeply indebted to the fan translators and fansub community, for opening the door to needlessly obscure animated features. I would hope that a fan community emerges around the classic Toei Doga movies. They're uniquely Japanese, not yet "anime," strongly influenced by the West, but seeking their own identity.

A quick note about the Sinbad poster. I'm a big fan of Toei Doga's movie posters, that uniquely Japanese approach to poster designs. Finding an image of this one was harder than usual; finding a physical poster will be especially difficult. Toei really ought to sell poster prints online. I'd buy up everything I could get my hands on...wouldn't you do the same? Of course you would.

And the Wind Cries - Reflections on Hayao Miyazaki's The Wind Rises

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What are my thoughts on Hayao Miyazaki's The Wind Rises? A jumble of conflicting thoughts and feelings. Powerful.  Inspiring.  Masterpiece.  Verklempt.  I have viewed this movie twice, in Japanese and US soundtracks, and on both occasions was overwhelmed.  This is a beautiful, deeply haunting film; its heaviness grips my heart and mind, the images soar and sing.  There is so much to absorb that you need time to process it all.

The Wind Rises is not a fast or frenetic film; it has a patience and speed that contrasts greatly with the action-adventure serials that defined Miyazaki's youth.  But this movie is emotionally overpowering; its images have a sweeping grandeur, like the great surrealist and expressionist painters.  Its mood is one of reflection, observation, sadness.  It's final message - "The wind is rising, We must live! - is not a message of optimism, but perseverance.  It is a celebration of the imagination and the redemptive power of art.

Officially, The Wind Rises is an historical biography, adapted from a fictional memoir about the life of Japanese airplane engineer and designer Jiro Horikoshi, which was then adapted by Hayao Miyazaki into a 2009 graphic novel.  The movie tells the tale of Horikoshi's life in the early 20th Century, witnessing the Great Kanto Earthquake and two World Wars, and his haunted dreams of creating wonderful flying machines.  That's the "official" explanation; but I also see a parallel story that is deeply auto-biographical: Hayao Miyazaki's own life, his childhood, his passions and dreams.  Everything is presented with a surreal Fellini flair; characters, moments and histories play out like Jungian archetypes.  The Wind Rises plays like a series of extended lucid dreams in the director's own mind.

There are times when I am watching the young Jiro Horikoshi, and I am convinced that I am seeing Miyazaki as a child, frustrated by his eyesight and dreaming of airplanes.  At other moments, Miyazaki's voice inhabits that of Marconi, the Italian airplane engineer who serves as spirit guide and Greek Chorus.  At yet other moments, it is the Mitsubishi boss Kurokawa who emerges as Miyazaki, the stern and demanding Ghibli studio boss.  Miyazaki the Elder dispenses wisdom to Miyazaki the Younger, guiding and warning in equal measure.

In one scene, Kurokawa informs Jiro that he has won the job of designing an experimental aircraft.  Yuri replies that he wants his childhood friend, and fellow engineer, on the project.  Kurokawa flatly refuses with a telling lesson: Never work on projects with your friends; you'll only become rivals.  It is impossible for me not to think of Hayao Miyazaki's long partnership with director Isao Takahata, which began at the Toei Doga studio and ended at Studio Ghibli.  Theirs is very much like a McCartney-Lennon relationship, before and after the Beatles breakup.

The twin biographies of Horikoshi and Miyazaki flow and intertwine.  Miyazaki obsessed about airplanes practically since his birth.  Giovanni Caproni was a childhood hero; indeed, "Ghibli" was named after one of his airplanes.  As a professional animator, he and his peers struggled with a sense of inadequacy, of being "20 years behind," of needing to learn the craft the rest of the world mastered.  They yearned for the respect of the world, which looked down upon them as primitive.  Could this have been a driving force that led to the creation of The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun in 1968?  Perhaps.  And let us not forget that the young Miyazaki, on his first European trip, met author Astrid Lindgren in hopes of collaborating on the Pipi Longstockings anime.  The project was cooly rejected, dismissed.  This parallels the cold reception received by Horikoshi and his fellow Japanese designers on their encounter with Germany's modern, technologically advanced airplanes.

And, of course, the film's heroine Naoko serves as a parallel for Miyazaki's eternal romantic muse, his wife Akemi Ota.  She was also the inspiration for the heroines in Sherlock Hound, Howl's Moving Castle and Ponyo; once again, there is tension between her art and his career, but this time tempered by a personal tragedy that parallels Jiro's professional tragedy.  He is doomed to lose everything and everyone he holds dear.  He is destined to walk among the gravestones of his dreams.

(continued after the jump)

The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness

Director Mami Sunada was given exclusive access to Studio Ghibli for her documentary movie, The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness, which was released in Japanese theaters in November.  The movie focuses on the studio's three founders - directors Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki, and producer Toshio Suzuki - during the production of Takahata's Tale of Princess Kaguya and Miyazaki's The Wind Rises.

Even though Miyazaki insists that his decision to announce his retirement from feature films came late, a sense of closure, of finality, always hung over these two films.  There was a special sense of alignment, of Studio Ghibli's two old masters taking one last bow before the audience.  It's very difficult not to see The Wind Rises as a farewell statement.  And, so, this sadness remains underneath the surface - the madness that underlies the dream.

And, yet, we also respond to Miyazaki's retirement with a sense of disbelief.  Really?  I mean...really?  Even his oldest friends and colleagues don't believe the master won't return once more.  But Miyazaki stubbornly insists he is finished.  He has nothing more to say, no more fight for another battle.

The other question that haunts us: What about Paku-san?  Is Princess Kaguya his farewell statement as well?  Wasn't he already retired?  His last film was a 60-second clip in the 2003 anthology picture, Winter Days.  His last feature film was 1999's My Neighbors the Yamadas.  The man does not commit to any direction, prefers to silently keep his options open.  But time marches forward for Takahata as well.

Sunada explains the documentary's title: "I think that having a dream entails having a bit of madness, no matter what the profession. There are times when you will go to extremes, and times when you are feared by others for that."  It's a fascinating insight into Studio Ghibli, whose films have often embraced the nightmare side, probed the darker, more difficult questions.  Miyazaki and Takahata were never interested in simple children's entertainment for following the Disney paradigm.  Indeed, they have dedicated their whole lives to smashing it to pieces.  We cherish these men while they are among us.  We shall not see their likes again.

One Final Note:  Studio Ghibli is preparing English subtitles for this film.  Does this mean a Western release in theaters or on home video?  Nobody is yet saying, but we can only hope.  There will be subs on the Japanese BD/DVD release, if nothing else.  Stay tuned.

Movie Review: Side by Side (2012) - A Film vs. Digital Documentary

Currently playing on Netflix is this excellent 2012 documentary on the history of film, and our crossroads between photo-chemical film and digital technology.  It is produced and narrated by Keanu Reeves and features discussions and insights by scores of filmmakers, including Martin Scorcese, David Lynch, James Cameron, George Lucas, Christopher Nolan, Richard Linklater, Robert Rodriguez, and many more.

I'm watching the movie and am entranced.  On the analog vs digital debate, I tend to side with analog, at least when it comes to music.  I do appreciate the many conveniences of modern digital technology, but analog has a special way of capturing reality, either images or music, that is warmer, more romantic.  There's a ritual to the mechanics of placing a record on a platter, and moving a tonearm into position.  Pressing the Play button isn't quite the same experience.

This is an exciting time for music, photography and the movies.  Digital technology and the internet open doors of opportunity that we could barely imaging.  I only hope we don't discard that analog magic in the process.  I'd like to find a way for both mediums to exist peacefully.

Anyway, find the time to see this movie.  It will certainly spark discussions and debates among your movie-loving friends.

Michael Sporn Reviews From Up on Poppy Hill

I hope Michael Sporn will forgive me for posting his review on From Up on Poppy Hill here on Ghibli Blog, but I thought it was a terrific read and would help spark some discussions among the Ghibli faithful.  As an animator and filmmaker, he brings a unique insight into these films, and whenever a new Ghibli movie arrives in the States, he's the first person who's opinions I seek.

As always, I highly recommending his Splog, which is a treasure trove of animation history and full of wit.  I learn something every time I visit, and so should you.

Enjoy Mr. Sporn's review, and let the debates commence:

This week I saw The Croods (and reviewed it here) and From Up on Poppy Hill. I really wanted Poppy Hill to be a small masterpiece, but it wasn’t. It was just a trek. I wanted Goro Miyazaki to have a glimmer of the old man in him; it’ll be hard to let go of Hayao Miyazaki when he retires or decides to end his enormous career. This film was supposedly written by Hayao in collaboration with the son, Goro. I didn’t feel the spirituality of Goro in this movie; That’s what I love about Hayao’s films; there’s a spirituality. All those films (at least since Totoro) are about so much more than what’s on the surface. What’s on the surface is usually good, too. And lately the animation has been getting better. If there’s any spirituality in Goro, it didn’t make it to the big screen, and the animation was first class TV work. No magic there, either.

It’s the second film directed by Goro Miyazaki. Tales from Earthsea should have jump-started a new career. The film was just dull. I assume the artists at Studio Ghibli want things to go on, as well. Poppy Hill had some of the elements of a Ghibli production; it just lacked the magic. First rate styling, fine character design (they all do look a bit like, at times), and a human story.

Although the story had too little in it. It was quite subtle and for a sophomore director to pull it off was too much to ask. The animation rarely had a spark. The characters always did what they were asked to do, but they didn’t really have much of a lifetime within them. The director needed a LOT of experience within him to pull it off, needed a lot of animation experience to be able to pull stronger performances out of his animators and needed a stronger connection to the story to make us care about those characters. Zer0 for three.

Don’t get me wrong; I’d take this over The Croods any day, but I’d prefer to have something good rather than either of these movies.

Ghibli Blog Rankings - The 50 Greatest Movies

Yes, Citizen Kane is still number one in this house!

The Sight & Sound 2012 poll of greatest films has been unveiled, which means it's time for everybody to pull out their long lists of favorite movies.  And now, after many days of hard work and endless revisions, I present my rankings of the best movies ever made.  Short comments follow after the rankings.


Ghibli Blog Rankings - The 50 Greatest Movies

1. Citizen Kane (1941, Orson Welles)
2. Casablanca (1942, Michael Curtiz)
3. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Stanley Kubrick)
4. Lawrence of Arabia (1962, David Lean)
5. Seven Samurai (1954, Akira Kurosawa)
6. Star Wars (1977, George Lucas)
7. Duck Soup (1933, Leo McCarey)
8. The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928, Carl Th. Dryer)
9. The Third Man (1949, Carol Reed)
10. Vertigo (1958, Alfred Hitchkock)

11. Omohide Poro Poro (1991, Isao Takahata)
12. Mimi wo Sumaseba (1995, Yoshifumi Kondo)
13. City Lights (1931, Charlie Chaplin)
14. Ran (1986, Akira Kurosawa)
15. Apocalypse Now (1979, Francis Ford Coppola)
16. The Fog of War (2003, Errol Morris)
17. Paths of Glory (1957, Stanley Kubrick)
18. Annie Hall (1977, Woody Allen)
19. The Royal Tenenbaums (2001, Wes Anderson)
20. (tie) Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981, Steven Spielberg)
20. (tie) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989, Steven Spielberg)

21. The Godfather Parts I & II (1972, 74, Francis Ford Coppola)
22. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000, Ang Lee)
23. Rules of the Game (1939, Jean Renoir)
24. Floating Weeds (1959, Yasujiro Ozu)
25. The Big Sleep (1946, Howard Hawks)
26. Nights of Cabiria (1957, Frederico Fellini)
27. Princess Mononoke (1997, Hayao Miyazaki)
28. Porco Rosso (1992, Hayao Miyazaki)
29. The Wizard of Oz (1939, Victor Fleming)
30. Elizabeth (1998, Shekhar Kapur)

31. Metropolis (1926, Fritz Lang)
32. The Searchers (1956, John Ford)
33. Throne of Blood (1957, Akira Kurosawa)
34. Modern Times (1936, Charlie Chaplin)
35. Young Frankenstein (1974, Mel Brooks)
36. Blazing Saddles (1974, Mel Brooks)
37. Pulp Fiction (1994, Quentin Tarantino)
38. Yojimbo(1961, Akira Kurosawa)
39. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1968, Sergio Leone)
40. Fantasia (1940, Walt Disney)

41. Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie (1996, Jim Mallon)
42. Ben-Hur (1959, William Wyler)
43. The Seventh Seal (1957, Ingmar Bergman)
44. Network (1976, Sydney Lumet)
45. Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Leaned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1963, Stanley Kubrick)
46. Gauche the Cellist (1982, Isao Takahata)
47. Night on the Galactic Railroad (1985, Gisaburo Suugi)
48. The Red Shoes (1948, Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger)
49. Beetlejuice (1988, Tim Burton)
50. (tie) Clue (1985, Johnathon Lynn)
50. (tie) Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986, John Hughes) 

And now for a few quick thoughts.  You fine readers have no idea how many times I've shuffled movies around this list, adding this, dropping that, desperately finding a place to squeeze in The Royal Tenenbaums and Ferris Bueller's Day Off, trying to remember whether I loved or merely liked The Seventh Seal.  My mind constantly pulls out wonderful memories, reflective laughs and meditations.

I believe the key was writing a Top 50 list of movies, instead of the standard "Top 10."  With a shorter list, one stays careful and overly cautious, wary of giving up a cherished classic.  I won't cede Citizen Kane or Casablanca to anyone.  However, if I expand my palette to fifty films, a far richer landscape emerges.  Now I can embrace the vast history of cinema, honor the earliest classics, and raise the banner for modern pictures that deserve to be honored.  I could easily add another fifty movies without blinking an eye.  The Shining!  La Dolce Vita!  F For Fake!  Ivan the Terrible! Waking Life!  This could go on forever, which is an exhausting thought.

I'm thinking that I should write essays on each individual film on this list, make it a running series.  That would give me more time to explore each film in better detail than I can here.  Feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions.  Enjoy.

Update 8/8/12, 1:11pm - Raiders or Last Crusade?  Last Crusade or Raiders??  Which movie Indiana Jones movie takes the #20 spot?  This dilemma has consumed me all week, and I cannot pick one film over another.  Raiders is grittier, pulpier, has scarier villians, and Karen Allen.  Last Crusade has more and better action scenes, is way funnier, and has Sean Connery.  Both are, essentially, the same movie, and equally great.

So I'm going to cheat and declare a second mulligan (the first one being the two Godfathers joined together at #21).  Raiders and Last Crusade will share the 20th slot, and you can just pick your favorite.  Now I'm going to walk away before I really get carried away.  This project is finished!

Update #2: 8/9/12 8:40am - More cheating.  Marcee and I watched Chaplin's City Lights last night, and I immediately realized my mistake in ranking it so low.  It deserves a Top 10 spot, but I can't fit it in, and I want to promote the two Studio Ghibli films, so we'll take 13th Place.  This is the final edit, I swear(chuckling)!  Thanks for your patience, feel free to hurl wisecracks.

Update #3: 8/9/12 10:20am - Great, I can't read and I can't count.  I really should pay Reed Nelson to be my editor.  There were two movies at #34, so I've shuffled things around...and we end with yet another mulligan.  But it's fitting that a "Top 50 Movies" list would really have 53, in a Calvinball sort of way.

Ghibli Blog Reviews

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STUDIO GHIBLI FEATURES, SHORTS, DVD/BD REVIEWS

Feature Films

2014 The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness
2014 Ronia the Robber's Daughter
2014 When Marnie Was There
2013 The Tale of the Princess Kaguya
2013 The Wind Rises
2011 From Up On Poppy Hill
2010 The Secret World of Arrietty
2008 Ponyo on a Cliff by the Sea
2006 Gedo Senki (Tales From Earthsea)
2004 Howl's Moving Castle
2002 The Cat Returns the Favor
2001 Spirited Away
1999 My Neighbors the Yamadas
1997 Princess Mononoke
1995 Mimi wo Sumaseba (Whisper of the Heart)
1994 Heisei Tanuki Gassan Pom Poko
1993 Umi Ga Kikoeru (Ocean Waves)
1992 Porco Rosso
1991 Omohide Poro Poro (Only Yesterday)
1989 Kiki's Delivery Service
1988 My Neighbor Totoro
1988 Grave of the Fireflies
1987 The Story of the Yanagawa Canals
1986 Laputa: Castle in the Sky
1984 Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind

Short Films

2010 Mr. Dough and the Egg Princess
2010 Nisshan Seifun
2009 Piece
2005 A Flying City Plan
2005 Dore Dore no Uta
2004 Space Station No. 9
2004 Portable Airport 
2003 Mei and the Kitten Bus
2003 Koro's Big Day Out
2002 Imaginary Flying Machines
2002 Ghiblies Episode 2
2000 Ghiblies Episode 1
1995 On Your Mark


Direct-to-Video (DVD/BD)

2011 Ghibli's Bookshelf
2007 Iblard Jikan
2006 The Night of Taneyamagahara
2005 Hayao Miyazaki and the Ghibli Museum
2005 Ghibli ga Ippai Special: Short Short
2004 Yasuo Otsuka's Joy in Motion

TAKAHATA & MIYAZAKI FILM & TV REVIEWS

Feature and Short Films

1982 Gauche the Cellist
1981 Jarinko Chie
1979 Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro
1977 Tenguri, Boy of the Plains
1973 Panda Kopanda and the Rainy Day Circus
1972 Panda Kopanda
1972 Yuki's Sun (Pilot Film)

Television Series

1981 Sherlock Hound
1980 Lupin III: Albatross: Wings of Death
1980 Lupin III: Farewell, Beloved Lupin
1979 Anne of Green Gables
1978 Future Boy Conan
1976 3000 Leagues in Search of Mother
1974 Heidi, Girl of the Alps
1971 Lupin III: Series One

Toei Animation

1976 Puss in Boots 3: Around the World in 80 Days
1972 Puss in Boots 2: Nagagutsu Sanjuushi
1972 Animal Treasure Island
1971 Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves
1969 The Flying Ghost Ship
1969 Puss in Boots
1968 The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun
1968 The World of Hans Christian Andersen
1965 Gulliver's Space Travels
1963 Little Prince & the Eight Headed Dragon
1962 Arabian Nights: The Adventures of Sinbad
1961 Anju to Zushiomaru
1958 Hakujaden

ANIME AND WESTERN ANIMATION REVIEWS

Japanese Anime

2007 Paprika
2004 Innocence: Ghost in the Shell 2
2003 Winter Days
2001Osamu Tezuka's Metropolis
1990 Like the Clouds, Like the Wind 
1985 Night on the Galactic Railroad
1984 Nemo (Pilot Film)


Western Animation


2007 The Simpson's Movie
2005 Dream On, Silly Dreamer
2004 Ryan
1982 The Last Unicorn
1966 It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown


Pixar/Disney

2008 Wall-E
2007 Ratatouille
2006 Cars

Hayao Miyazaki Short Films: Mr. Dough and the Egg Princess (2010)

Ladies and gentlemen, the newest animated film by Hayao Miyazaki, Mr. Dough and the Egg Princess (Pan-Dane to Tamago-Hime).  This short film was released to the Ghibli Museum on November 20, 2010, and is also paired with an accompanying exhibit.

What we are looking at is the official art book that serves as a companion piece to the film. It all looks so spectacular; of course, we already expect this. It's Miyazaki. I'm thrilled to see him continue his surrealist streak; you can see how happily he has settled into his grandfather role.

At its core, Mr. Dough and the Egg Princess asks the question, "How is bread made?" The idea is examined through the wild, imaginitive eyes of a small child. Cooking becomes magic. Ingredients become alchemy. Leavened bread becomes alive. The miracle of creation is on display, weaving through waking eyes and the imagination. Miyazaki has a way of making the natural world seem magical that is wholly unique. Perhaps it's because I hail from Minnesota that I can identify with this quality so much. American animators should aspire to this.

Little details are to be found everywhere in these photographs. I'm sure the animation is a joy to watch. The shot of the breadman crawling out of the oven is a riff from the giant robot in Castle in the Sky. The animal farmers remind me a lot of Richard Scarry's animals, which I loved as a small child. On the final photo, you can spot Miyazaki-the-Pig, and is that Heidi seated at a table with some bread? Yes, it is! And I marvel at the brilliant contrast between the large witch - a surreal, messy cousin to the witchy women in Spirited Away and Howl's Moving Castle - and the Egg Princess, who is a textbook example of simplicity in action. This 10-minute cartoon is amazing in its diversity. Am I right to suspect that some of Miyazaki's greatest anime resides in these Ghibli Museum short films?

You'll have to click on the photos to seem them in the proper size. The color and detail is exquisite; our thanks go out to the forums at Buta Connection in France. No doubt copies of the art book will be sold on Ebay; like every dedicated Miyazaki fan, I am determined to collect all of them. What an amazing movie.

Tales From Earthsea - Do I Really Have to Review This Movie?

My take on Tales From Earths? Toshio Suzuki panicked.

This had more to do with Ghibli's line of succession than anything else. Goro Miyazaki was picked in a flash, in hopes that he could be molded into his father's career, but without ever properly paying his dues. This was proven to be a mistake, a very rare one for Suzuki-san. His instincts have nearly always been impeccable. Oh, well, they managed to rebound nicely.

What I hated about this movie was how Goro wasted so much time airing the family's dirty laundry in public. I found that offensive. I also found it offensive that he was dropped into the director's chair, and presumably the throne of the empire itself, like a spoiled prince. How that must have angered the lapsed socialist father!

Then, after piling on the family melodrama in public, Goro arrives with a movie that shamefully steals from his father. WTF?! He rips off the castle chase from Puss in Boots. He rips off the 1982 manga The Journey of Shuna. He rips off Nausicaa and Heidi. He rips off the battle with the wolves from Horus, Prince of the Sun (don't dare call it "little norse prince"!) - a spectacular opening from the most important anime movie ever made. Ugh!

What original idea does Goro have? Oh, yes - the opening scene where the hero kills his father. Good grief. Jim Morrison called, and he wants his shtick back. What an embarrassment.

Over time, however, I've grown to be more sympathetic to Goro. It appears that Father Miyazaki has taken the reins, and essentially put him through film school, with various minor film projects for Ghibli and the Ghibli Museum. Goro's two shorts were very well made, in fact.

And Ghibli may have found their next-generation director with Yonebayashi-san, and the recent release of The Borrowers. This would take some pressure off the studio. Personally, I'm rooting for him.  Now if we could only get Takahata to finally get cracking on his long-awaited Ghibli film, we'd really be cookin'.

Goro will have a second crack at the bat. No pressures on him, but that next movie will essentially make or break his career as a film director. The Japanese public has lost their good will (badmouthing mommy and daddy will do that). So everything will come down to Goro, and how badly he wants his success. He will have to earn his father's throne.

So there's no pressure at all. But it's okay. Hayao Miyazaki was in the same place before. Maybe it's the family tradition.

Anyway, that's my sort-of official Ghibli Blog take on this topic. You'll notice I haven't talked much about Tales From Earthsea. There's a reason for that. It's not a very good or memorable movie. It's grim, preachy, dull and witless. I watched it four years ago, and I still can't push myself to find anything good to say about it.  The family drama is the real show, and everybody knows it.

Poster - Puss in Boots 3: Around the World in 80 Days (1976)

Here is another addition to the always-impressive lineup of Toei Animation movie posters: Puss in Boots 3: Around the World in 80 Days, from 1976.

I'm a great fan of the original 1969 Puss in Boots.  In fact, I think it's an anime masterpiece and one of Toei Doga's crowning achievements.  It benefited greatly from the immense talent at the studio, including Hayao Miyazaki, Yasuo Otsuka, Yoichi Kotabe, Reiko Okuyama, and Yasuji Mori.  Within a couple years, however, they would begin the migration away to other studios and projects like Lupin III and Heidi, and the quality of Toei's movies deteriorated as a result.

Puss in Boots 2, made in 1972, was a weaker sequel, but it still had some charms, thanks to Mori and Okuyama.  At least, the Wild West theme was a bold change of pace.  Most sequels aim to repeat the exact formula, so you have to admire the willingness to take risks.  I think it's an alright movie and is worth watching at least once.

Puss in Boots 3, however, is a disaster.  If there was ever an example of Toei's decimation as a great movie studio, it's this picture.  It's amazing that this was even considered a feature release at all.  It has the look and feel of crude television, some low-budget mess that was probably green-lighted as a result of some executive losing a poker match.

I will say this in the movie's defense: I really like the setting.  "Around the World in 80 Days" is a terrific idea for a movie; in fact, it happens to be a terrific movie.  That's a movie you watch with the grandparents at holiday gatherings.  So it makes sense to give it a try with Pero the Cat.  It's a pity the whole thing is such an unimaginative mess.

I found it a bit weird that Puss in Boots 3 completely rips off the 1968 anime masterpiece Horus, Prince of the Sun.  How did that come about?  Was Toei finally feeling remorse over letting the movie tank at the box office, sacking the director, Isao Takahata, only to see him steal the studio's best talent and revolutionize anime with Heidi and Marco?  Strange.  Personally, I chalk it up to a lack of ideas.  The filmmakers who made this picture couldn't find a decent idea if it bit 'em on the....ehh, whatever.  You get the point.

I also wonder if Hayao Miyazaki had seen this movie?  How strange is it that a movie that steals from Horus features a climactic chase through a clock tower, one that Miyazaki seems to steal for Lupin III: Castle of Cagliostro?  Yes, it's true that the clock tower motif first appeared in an episode of Lupin III: Series One, but, still.  I came away with the impression that Miyazaki ripped this scene out.  You can't blame him for being cranky, in any event.

Let's see, what else is there?  The animation is stiff and crude, barely television quality, as I've mentioned before.  Pero is certainly likable, but dull and witless.  You can tell this isn't the same whipsmart anti-hero from the original 1969 classic.  The villains are likewise boring.  Just why are we seeing that fox character yet again?  He was first a character on the television show Hustle Punch, and then a pirate in Animal Treasure Island (another of my all-time favorites).  Why is he in this lousy picture?  And why can't he get to do anything interesting or fun?

An animated movie version of Around the World in 80 Days should be wildly funny, colorful, full of life.  This should be a movie for Pixar, not the creatively bankrupt Toei.  This is an absolute clunker.  I can't think of any redeeming qualities for this movie....except for the movie poster.  That's a really terrific poster.

Movie Review: It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (1966)

(Update: This video has since been removed from Youtube. Sorry.)

It's time for one of the great holiday traditions, the Charlie Brown Special!  Yaayy!!  It really isn't a major holiday unless there's a Peanuts cartoon attached.  Now all that's needed are some Dolly Madisons and we're ready to go.

Great Pumpkin, in my humble opinion, is the greatest of all the animated Charlie Brown films.  The artwork, color and animation are a step above A Charlie Brown Christmas (my close #2), the story is more filled-out and lively, and any number of episodes will dance in your head for days.  There's Snoopy as the World War I flying ace, there's pumpkin carving, there's Charlie Brown's ghost costume, hehe hehe...and Charlie Brown with a bag full of rocks.  Hah hah hah!

The heart of Great Pumpkin, of course, is Linus and his unshakable belief among the skeptics.  Modern hipsters might see this as a criticism of religion, but we must remember that Charles Shultz was a devout Christian (the love and equality kind, not the neocon warmonger and swindler televangelist kind).  He usually treats Charlie Brown as his avatar, but I think he's speaking through Linus in this cartoon.  It's an honest, heartfelt portrayal, never hiding from disappointment or unanswered prayers.  Sparky Shultz did not fear "God's Silence" and the creeping doubt.  He embraced it, accepted it, an humbly understood his place in the world.

I shouldn't have to point out how today's animated films are formulaic or openly pandering.  We all have the ticket stubs and empty wallets and the disappointments.  But that's to be expected from product created by conglomerates.  Got to maximize the bottom line.  Got to protect the franchise.  And that means taking no risks.  It's so very unfortunate, because the Peanuts cartoons demonstrate, time and time again, how you can create a classic with little money.  There should be avenues available for similar storytellers today.  The audiences are out there.

Of course, when I was a kid, poisoning the Halloween candy was a serious scare, so rocks wouldn't be the worst thing to get.  I would have prefered rocks to, say, apples or money.  What kind of cheapskate hands out quarters to kids on Halloween?  Don't give me money!  Use that money to buy me candy!

Halloween is the one great children's holiday.  Despite its medieval gothic roots, which have always freaked out the fundamentalist Christians, this night is about one thing only - kids dressing up in costumes and scoring six weeks worth of free candy.  It's a moment of pure innocence and wonder.  The dark skies and bare trees are not scary at all; they're enchanting, inviting.  The ghosts have those Twix candies, and the owls are handing out candy pumpkins.  Yaayy!!

It really isn't the same thing when you're an adult, and can just buy candy at the store whenever you want.  It's never the same.  But I can still watch The Great Pumpkin, and for half an hour, be eight years old once more.

The Simpson's Movie: A Review...or, My Eyes, The Goggles Do Nothing!

Good Lord, this movie sucks!

I had high hopes for The Simpson's Movie, and, indeed, it begins on a high note, with a great Itchy & Scratchy sequence that ends with Scratchy eating hundreds of nuclear warheads.  Hah hah!  Then the camera pans back to reveal we're watching a movie, and Homer stands up and berates the audience for paying money to see a show they're getting on tv for free.  Hah hah...more funny.

Homer wasn't kidding.  The jokes were good for about, oh...20 minutes.  Then everything went south and became unbearably dull.  20 minutes, or, really, one decent tv episode.  The rest of the picture is such a slave to Hollywood formula that I was looking behind my couch for a paperback copy of "Screenwriting 101."  Yuck.

Do I really have to write more?  I don't feel like it.  You've had more than enough time to see this movie if you're so inclined.  I'm really the last one to the party.  I think the problem here is the same as the tv show - The Simpson's has run out of gas.  After 20 years on the air, every conceivable joke, story, and scenario has been played out at least half a dozen times.  It's just a gag show now, and it's been that way for at least a decade.

Ugh, what a letdown of a picture.  I could imagine a wacky comedy like one of Mel Brooks' classics - Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, Spaceballs - or any number of classic screwball farces.  No such luck.  What's here is just a standard-issue formula picture that has been used on about a billion summer blockbusters.

About the only good thing to come out of this movie is the animation, which is much fuller than tv.  The production team definitely put a priority on animating the Simpsons as they never could on the small screen.  For the most part, it works.  They didn't turn The Simpson's into an overdrawn Disney cartoon, but augment whenever necessary.  It's a very nice looking movie, if still a bit bland, but that's because of the art design of The Simpson's, and it's far too late to do anything about that now.

Yuck...what a lousy movie.  The second half barely had any good jokes, aside from one punch line here or there.  I just didn't care.  Why should I care about some serious plot, especially when these "plots" have been played out a dozen times on the tv.  Why am I supposed to care?  Homer is impulsive and dumb?  He's an inattentive father and husband?  Springfield is going to be destroyed?  What, again?

Other bad choices: why is Bart suddenly drinking hard alcohol in the middle of the picture?  When did he start doing that?  And why did he suddenly stop five minutes later?  What's the deal with that?  And why the need to show "adult" content that couldn't get past the censors?  Homer shouldn't flip the bird, and Marge shouldn't swear.  It doesn't fit their characters.  The part where Bart is buck naked is well-known, but the writers forgot that what makes those kind of scenes funny (remember Austin Powers?) is NOT showing the nudity.  That's the whole gag.  Flash the audience and you ruin the joke.

This movie ruins a lot of jokes.  Most everything else is just one simple throwaway line after another, all subservient to that damned stupid plot.  Spider Pig was funny, yes.  Hearing the Spider Pig song the third time...not funny.

Seriously, people.  Lose the Screenwriter's Handbook, please?  I was always skeptical of the idea of a Simpson's Movie, but I still wanted to discover a good movie.  This is a major disappointment.

Thoughts on Ponyo on a Cliff by the Sea

Twenty observations about the new Hayao Miyazaki movie, Ponyo on a Cliff by the Sea, which opened in the US this weekend:

1) A lovely romantic children's film that celebrated love and affection and a thrill for discovery. This movie was made for 5-year-olds and anyone who still connects to their inner child. It's Totoro with fish.

2) Hayao Miyazaki's personal story of his family, of his wife who sacrificed her career to raise their children. There is actually an essay in Starting Point that addresses this, and you'll be shocked to see how much of what Miyazaki wrote about appears in this movie.

3) Miyazaki's defiant defense of hand-drawn animation. I had to constantly remind myself: this was all made by hand. It's astonishing. Just watching the screen full of people and things moving around, in that wonderful watercolor-painted style.

4) I've never seen water used so effectively in any movie. It was like the waters were a whole cast of characters in and of themselves. Thick water, runny water, water that bubbles and gurgles like blobs, torrents of rain and wind.

5) Miyazaki understands the iconic (Scott McCloud's term) nature of animation. He understands the value of depicting symbolic action, or something "magical" that's from a child's point of view. Why Americans insist on taking animated images literally, I'll never know. The question is not, "What is this that stands before me?" but "What does this mean?"

One great image - the father's hands struggling to squeeze down Ponyo, to force the growing child into a baby again. I watched that and felt like shouting out, "Hey, that's my adolescence! I was there, man!"

Same thing with the crashing waves against the rocks early in the movie, and the fish-waves in the storm. I felt like I was seeing these through the eyes of a 5-year-old child. To Sosuske, the tsunami waves were living things, characters with eyes and faces. To the mother, they were just crashing waves to avoid.

6) All the scenes with Ponyo's sisters were stunning. I was completely spellbound by their movements, their rhythm and flow. In one scene, the entire screen was filled with them, and it was astonishing to admire the artists' skill. In another scene, they grew into a more humanoid form, and I realized that they look just like their mother.

7) There's a moment during the storm when the old women are sitting in wheelchairs, watching out the windows. They appear so sad, so lonely. They have no family, their bodies are failing, and the workers at the nursing home are treating them like, well, the way elderly people are typically treated by the young. I didn't think the attendant, Lisa's co-worker, was mean or cruel; this was a carelessness of the young.

These scenes of the old women only made me feel more frustrated with Pixar's Up than ever.

8) Hokusai's paintings appear to be quoted in this movie. That similar moment in My Neighbors the Yamadas springs to mind, only more beautiful and colorful.

9) The title sequence is spectacular. It's an open celebration of traditional cel animation. Have you noticed shots where some objects (boats, buildings) have slight shadows behind them? I was reminded of that weird "shadow" effect in cel-drawn cartoons, where the cels aren't completely flat against the background when photographed. Is there a word for that? It was remarkable to see that effect, a mistake, really, appear in a Miyazaki movie.

This is a movie that celebrates hand-drawn animation, and it deliberately throws the gauntlet at the feet of the cgi programmers. So your machine can render water? Top this!

10) I felt the star of the first half was not Sosuske or Ponyo, but Lisa, the mother, the Wife, the Miyazaki Heroine in Blue. She dominated her scenes. The second half of the movie belonged to Sosuske and Ponyo.

11) I want one of those little boats! Can you really run a boat on steam power like that?

12) I knew Miyazaki dealt with pollution of the earth in this movie, but when I saw the scenes of dredging the ocean, with its endless volumes of garbage and plastic, I wept. This is not something sprung from the director's imagination. This is real life. If anything, the "plastic ocean" is worse.

It's no wonder Miyazaki prays for the tsunami to sweep the city away.

13) Speaking of which, Miyazaki sticks his apocalyptic revenge fantasies into the middle of a children's movie. And it works. How does he get away with that?

14) This movie is a celebration of water; not water as a resource, or a commodity, or a landfill; but water as a miracle.

Now I'm thirsty and deeply worried about the global water supply.

15) John Lasseter's Disney dub is superb. I was amazed. I'll have to watch a couple more times, and see the movie in its Japanese soundtrack, but I couldn't think of anything that was wrong or misplaced. They even kept the honorific names, like -san.

Despite the famous names of the child actors, they played their roles perfectly. In five years, Miley Cyrus will be in and out of rehab, broken by the child celebrity machine, because that is what the machine is designed to do. This business grinds up human souls and hurls them into the sea like plastic. There is also a negative side.

16) I think if long red hair and '60s striped mod suits make a comeback, Peter Max should get royalties.

17) I think adults need to get away from this obsession with having to explain everything. Life is not an episode of CSI. Ponyo opens with the man in the Peter Max suit pouring elixirs from tall jars into the ocean deep with something that resembles a turkey baster. Why is this? What is he doing? What is in these magic elixirs? I don't have a clue and I don't care. I also don't want to hear pseudo-scientific arguments about that moon in the sky, that giant woman in the water, or how that particular marriage works out.

18) The ending felt anti-climactic, and very abrupt. Miyazaki ends his movies the way John Lennon ends side one of Abbey Road. Steady...Steady...Wait for it...Stop here! We're done. In his movies, the final scene is pretty arbitrary, anyway. It's just something you must make your peace with.

Miyazaki usually places his climax earlier in the film, before the final scene or two. It's largely due to the way he makes movies, which is incredibly hectic, seat-of-the-pants, almost completely improvised after the first act.

19) I was reminded of Totoro in some moments, like Ponyo running around the house, and the second Panda Kopanda, with its flooded house. And the spectacular action sequence of Ponyo and her sisters rushing from their underwater home to the surface, an ocean of water and fish in an exuberant explosion, directly quotes the climax from Hakujaden, Japan's first color animation movie from 1958. Now that I think about it, Hakudaden does share a certain sensibility with Ponyo, with its innocent romance and magical father figure.

20) The "remixed" Disney version of the Ponyo song is fake, processed, Autotuned mud. I reflect on the popularity of such "music" and weep for the mindless fools who consume it all. But I'm a child of the punk-rock revolution, and this sort of thing kind of goes against our religion. That said, this "song" only plays during the second half of the closing credits. The normal version of the Ponyo song - just the children singing - plays during the first half (but strangely enough, still with Autotune - I have to laugh at this).

Oh, and did you notice that Hayao Miyazaki's name appears buried deep among the staff members? Naturally, he appears as a pig, but he does not fly a plane, nor have long talks with Robert Westall.

Should I mention once more how breathtaking the visuals in this movie are? The color design is simply smashing. And should I mention again the personal elements of Ponyo? Hayao Miyazaki has truly become the Fellini of our age.

He appears to be making peace with his family, and this worries me when I realize his age. Most of his peers have retired or died. I hope he continues to make wonderful movies for years and years and years, but this is greedy of me, and I know it. Ponyo is a story told by an old man to a young child, and he celebrates both. And they join together and dance and imagine faces on the ocean waves.

Technically, there are more than 20 observations about Ponyo in this essay. But if I actually sat down and counted them all, I'd have to change the title, and I really prefer keeping the title just the way it is. Besides, it's late and the adult part of the brain is no fun. It's the part of you that doesn't believe in candle-powered boats and goldfish that grow up to be little girls. Keep that part of yourself under armed guard at all times.

Posters - Puss in Boots 2: Nagagutsu Sanjuushi (1972)

After long searching online, I finally managed to find this elusive poster for the second Puss in Boots movie, 1972's Nagagutsu Sanjuushi. It's a terrific poster, very colorful and bold and detailed, as you'd expect from the Toei Animation classics. I'm sure if you visit the Japanese auction sites, you would find one of these sooner or later, and one of these days, I'll have to start collecting these great posters.

Why was Puss in Boots 2 made into a Western? That's one of the stranger ideas I've seen for a sequel, and it's completely unheard of in this day of corporate conglomerates and endless franchises. No doubt Toei saw Pero the Cat as a mascot to be used, like Bugs Bunny or Mickey Mouse, in countless cartoons and movies. So perhaps variety was what was needed. It surely does free up the writers, which otherwise would have been seriously stuck with repeating the original. Besides, there's no way they could beat the 1969 Puss in Boots. There just ain't no way.

I don't think this second movie, titled Nagagutsu Sanjuushi ("The Three Musketeers," presumably named after the three black cats who chase after Pero), is as good as the first; it is also very clear that the studio's best days as an animation powerhouse were gone by 1972. The production values are far lower than previous movies, much closer to television animation. It's a much more limited animation style, and it shows. For Toei, lavish, original full animation was out; cheap and easy was in. No wonder all the key players left.

That said, I do think this is a very good movie, and when I turned it on to watch a second time I found myself strangely attracted to it. It's painfully short (just under one hour), but it grows on you, especially in the second half, when the momentum picks up and we get some action. There's a terrific chase with stagecoach and mule, with Pero and the Three Musketeers in pursuit, that's probably worth the price of admission. This cross-cuts another chase that quickly turns into a skillful shootout which ends the picture.

You can only imagine how good the action scenes would have been with Yasuo Otsuka and Hayao Miyazaki at the helm. They were the ones responsible for that spectacular castle chase, and all those groundbreaking action scenes from Horus, Prince of the Sun. And Miyazaki gave us the pirate ship battle in Animal Treasure Island, and the anarchic Dr. Seuss Genie chase in Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves. There's a large, gaping whole in Nagagutsu Sanjuushi where they are missing. Heaven only knows what could be done with the script, which runs through every Western movie cliche in the book. Even the fadeouts remind me of Blazing Saddles.

The key remaining players - animation director Yasuji Mori, Akira Daikuhara, Akemi Ota, and Reiko Okuyama - do an excellent job with what they have. They're working without half the old team, and apparantly half the old budgets and production schedule. It's a testament to their skills as great artists that this movie is as good as it is, that it still retains a great deal of the charm that makes the Toei classics so good.

By this point, however, it's clear the game is up. The rest of the crew finally drifted their way down to A Pro and then Nippon Animation, where Takahata and Miyazaki and the rest of the gang migrated. The Toei Doga era was over. Ah, well, all things must pass. It is the way of life and art and cartoon cats.