It Was A Dream, But Not A Dream: My Neighbor Totoro (1988)

This is yet another example of where pulling a quote into the title of my blog post also happens to reflect my feelings for the film on the whole.  My Neighbor Totoro, was perhaps the biggest blip on my "never seen" shame list, because having already encountered countless other Miyazaki films and being made constantly aware of this as a masterpiece, I was constantly putting it on the back burner, figuring that I would eventually get around to its viewing.  When it spent a year or so in a bizarre bluray upgrade limbo (at the time region free was not a viable option), I just sat hoping that it would magically appear in my lap at some point.  When the powerful of arm of Disney used its extension of Studio Ghibli to release this on bluray earlier this year, I knew that it had to be obtained, because much like all the decent stuff Disney releases, it is usually lacking in a wider audience, therefore resulting in it falling into limited print obscurity, a few copies being secretly passed amongst friends, or one would assume this to be the case with something like David Lynch's The Straight Story.  All of this is an aside of sorts to say that I finally caught up with My Neighbor Totoro, a work so heavily hyped and made to be something otherworldly that my expectations were nearly impossible, which I feared would result in a general hesitation to embrace the film.  Yet, when the film began to unfold in front of me I realized that the wonder that made Miyazaki's career was as present as ever, almost in a wildly subtle way, wherein, the magical realist elements that have become signifiers of his oeuvre creep into the narrative, as opposed to exploding into action as occurs in something like Spirited Away or Howl's Moving Castle.  Furthermore, never one to shy away from the tragedies in life, the threat of loss and the forced moments of youth being confronted with adulthood are at their most entrenched within this film, and for a filmmaker whose entire career has become predicated on breaking from realism, excluding his writing of the most recent From Up on Poppy Hill, My Neighbor Totoro, might well have one of the most hauntingly real of moments, so poetically executed, as to take on a surreal quality indicative of the hyper-tragic Grave of Fireflies.

My Neighbor Totoro, focuses on the experiences of two girls, the strong-willed, yet wide-eyed Satsuki and her younger sister the loud-mouthed but earnestly curious Mei.  The two girls are currently residing with their grandmother in the countryside, while their father moves too and from Tokyo for work, the reason for their needing to stay away is predicated upon their mother being hospitalized for an unnamed illness.  As such, the two spend many of their weekends traveling to visit her and awaiting the return of their father from work each day.  Of course, given that they moments, as well as attending school, only consume so much of their day-to-day activities, Satsuki and Mei spend their time traveling through the woods and meadows of the rural town.  It is during one of these trips that Satsuki and Mei meet a giant cat-like creature that Mei refers to as a mispronunciation of troll, therefore becoming known as Totoro.  This creature begins to appear intermittently during Satsuki and Mei's endeavors, often showing up in moments of trouble or fear as a means to put them at ease, for example, a large Totoro spends time awaiting the arrival of their father who is late from work, even providing them with a small gift of acorns and nuts which they plant in their yard.  These acorns lead to a gigantic tree growing in their yard, wherein Totoro and his various smaller forms take Satsuki and Mei on a wild flight through rural Japan.  When the girls awake the next day they realize it has been a dream, but also notice that the seeds have still sprouted, leading them to believe that the magic of Totoro might actually exist.  When Satsuki receives news that their mother has fallen ill, yet again, with a cold her and Mei panic, attempting to contact their father, who tells them to be patient until he can obtain more information.  Mei, unfortunatley, is incapable of grasping the necessity of patience and takes it upon herself to travel to the hospital, getting lost and become a cause for concern in the entire village.  Satsuki in a moment of desperation tracks down Totoro and uses his magical cat bus to find Mei and then visit their mother, although they do so from outside the window, leaving her a gift in the hopes of it leading to her quick recovery.  This act, assumedly works, or at least the closing credits animations would suggest as much.

Coming of age tales are often dealt with in a hyper-sentimental manner, leaning heavily on everything being perfect and avoiding the very real fact that for most people, growing up is tied to a point of fear or moment of tragedy.  Perhaps the best example of this working, while also being highly sentimental would be the lost love sequence of Summer of '42.  I would posit that Miyazaki also does this as a filmmaker, using the magical realist elements of his film to ease the heavy blow of tragedy, while also showing that necessitates growing older.  Totoro and the escapism it provides to the girls is also paired with Satsuki coming to realize that his escapist qualities do not factor into her mother suddenly becoming healthy.  Indeed, if anything Totoro is more a projection on the part of Satsuki to help maintain Mei's sense of wonder with the world, because Satsuki has her own moment of tragic awakening, when she realizes that her mother "having colds" indicates a white lie being propagated by adults to tell the two girls that their mother is sick, but not entirely playing into how truly troublesome her health might well be.  When Satsuki confronts an adult about his lie, they can offer nothing more than a defeated sigh, for they acknowledge the loss of innocence occurring, something that will never fully be the same.  Of course, Miyazaki realizes that the truly happy individual can still retain moments of innocence late into their life, pulling from it at moments of happiness, or as is the case with Mei and Satsuki's father, to help young persons understand the curiosities of the world, as is clear in the dust bunny discussion early in the film.  It is in moments like this were white lies are more fun stories in replacement of detailed scientific explanations which would be of little interest to a young person.  Yet, the most wonderful moment of magical realist escapism emerges when Satsuki and Mei's mother swears she sees her two daughters laughing outside her window, a moment that the viewers assume to be real, however, as their father suggests is only possible through the magical gift of the corn.  In this stroke of genius and subversive non-linear narrative, one can read the message as the father playing into the same "wonder in the world" rhetoric he uses when talking with his daughter as a means to ease the suffering of an ailing spouse.  To Miyazaki, tragedy is a reality, but it is also something that can be softened by a light-hearted and curious view of the world, because no all has to be heartbreaking, particularly when giant fluffy trolls can serve as emotional companions.

Key Scene:  The sandal floating in the water is stark, jarring and surreal and perhaps one of the single darkest frames in all of Miyazaki's oeuvre.

Buy this bluray.  Buy your friends this bluray.  Buy everyone this bluray.

Gewaltig Gar Die Macht: The Adventures of Prince Achmed (1929)

This marks a rather unusual occasion in that I have decided to lift a German quote directly into my post title, as opposed to usually finding its closest English translation, or borrowing from the subtitles. I am doing so for two specific reasons, Gewaltig gar die Macht, roughly translates to "make even the mighty," which carries weight, but does not flow as well as its Germanic counter, and secondly because the title cards for The Adventures of Prince Achmed are as integral to the narrative of Lotte Reiniger's silhouetted 1929 animated film.  Reiniger, a woman filmmaker, manages to create a world so awe-inspiring and delightfully captivating that I cannot describe in in any sense of singularity, instead; finding myself pulling upon various points of comparison, whether it to compare the magical quality of the film to the rarified work of George Melies, or to acknowledge the sense of scale in The Adventures of Prince Achmed that moves between the intimate and the grand in a manner evocative of a D.W. Griffith film.  Once could find themselves regarding a work like The Adventures of Prince Achmed a bit flippantly since it does incorporate a rather basic animation style by contemporary standards.  Reiniger's film, however, is anything but simplistic, the movement of her figures, the scratching and altering of the film strip and intricate detail provided to each silhouette is nothing short of genius.  When I made note of this film on Facebook I had a friend in great earnest link a similarly visual work that was made entirely in CGI.  While, I noted it being a stunning work in its own right, I also countered the post by suggesting that were Reiniger still alive making films, her work would flourish in a world of CGI, perhaps pushing it to the farthest boundaries possible, beyond the calculated wackiness of a Tim Burton film, beyond the multiple layers of the dream state that consume the world of a Satoshi Kon film.  Indeed, I would be most inclined to compare it to the visual world of Rene Laloux's Fantastic Planet, but even that description betrays the simultaneously audacious and simplistic execution of The Adventures of Prince Achmed.  Again this was made nearly a century ago and it could "make even the mighty" visions of Pixar animated shorts seem tame and run-of-the-mill.

The Adventures of Prince Achmed pulls its narrative almost exclusively from the mesmerizing, exotic world of the Arabian folk tales 1001 Nights.  The narrative here specifically focuses on the title character of Prince Achmed who must recruit the help of many individuals to conquer a trouble some sorcerer in the land of Wak-Wak.  This means seeking aid in the thief Aladdin, who possesses a powerful magic lantern that will help to deter the attacks of demons and other beasts which Achmed encounters along the way, similarly, Achmed must make use of a magical horse, who possesses a lever that allows it to fly, thus affording Achmed a considerable advantage over a group the evil Witch of Fiery Mountain and her deluge of magma monsters. All the while, Achmed endeavors to marrying the entrancing Pari Banu, a princess of relative status.  Realizing, as well, that he has grown to trust and admire Aladdin, Achmed approves of Aladdin's marriage to Dinarsade, Achmed's own sister.  It is also worth noting that Achmed is, as the title suggests a prince, working under the guidelines and hopes of his father Caliph who rules over the Arabian lands, sending Achmed to the land of Wak-Wak, both as a pseudo-coming of age quest, as well as one of political advancement, on the part of Caliph's own kingdom.  After a series of intense evolutions and alterations on the part of the witch and the sorcerer in Wak-Wak, Achmed is able to fell the rivals and claim supremacy for his father, returning along with Aladdin, Pari Banu and Dinarsade to Caliph's kingdom to revel in their new marriages, as well as enjoy a land free of the threat from any insurgencies.

I realize that the plot description for this film is really short and much of what I provided was either presumptive of a cultural awareness of 1001 Nights through Disney films, as well as what narrative plot holes one can fill between general plot cards provided in the film.  However, there is also another element worth consideration when looking specifically at The Adventures of Prince Achmed.  Much like, Eric von Stroheim's masterpiece Greed, The Adventures of Prince Achmed suffers from having sections of it removed or lost due to editing, nitrate fires and general mismanagement of the fragility of film.  Indeed, the version I watched, currently on rotation for MUBI, was only sixty-five minutes long, leaving roughly fifteen minutes unaccounted for, which could have been an entire extra act considering the amount of time afforded each event in this film.  I say all of this to also acknowledge that at no point does the lack of a portion of the narrative, or the general simplicity of the plot deny The Adventures of Prince Achmed any degree of importance or heightened sense of meaning. In fact, for a film made in 1929, which pulls from an even older text, the film is rather optimistic in notions of class relations, suggesting that in the right circumstances and given a shared interest class can be transcended and friends can be made out of even the most unlikely of combinations, in this case the relationship of friendship between Aladdin and Achmed or the love between Aladdin and Dinarsade.  It is tragic that such things only seem possible in elements of lore, and animated ones at that, indeed, it is interesting to place this in opposition to the far less socially aware work like Disney's Aladdin, where a over zealous "up from the bootstraps" narrative, suggest that class can be transcended purely by wishful thinking or blind ambition.  The Adventures of Prince Achmed is clever in clearly denoting a class difference, but also suggesting that such difference need not be divisive.  Sure, there are sections of this film that could be considered racist by contemporary standards, particularly the association with the Wak-Wak as a primitive African tribe, although such movements were quite prevalent in art of the twenties and thirties, but I would allow for a certain degree of cultural relativism to work in this context.  Again, in comparison to Disney's Aladdin made some sixty years later, in a purportedly post-racial society, it seeps with racialized performances, offensive to all nationalities depicted, as well as a few who have no logical connection to the world of the Middle East.

Key Scene:  There is a sequence where Aladdin descends into a cave that is one of the least involved of segments in the film, yet, it manages to be captivating in the void it creates, allowing viewers to feel as though the cave is truly a bottomless thing.  

I watched this on MUBI and it looked stunning, there are also DVD versions available on Amazon.  I, however, have opted to nab up the BFI bluray, since I now have a region-free bluray player.  Once this is in my possession, I will revisit this film and try to remember to return to this post to provide an aside on how it looks in HD.

Fear Takes The Shape We Are Willing To Give It: Mind Game (2004)

Here I was, post viewing of Fantastic Planet, rather certain that I had explored all the possibilities and corners of the animated film, and was entirely sold that Satoshi Kon would be the height of Japan's particular anime leanings, however, when I discovered that the late director had championed a work I should have expected it to at the very best rival his films and at the very least explore some of the same territory.  While I will always respect Akira as the seminal work in anime, consider Paprika the point of absolute deconstruction of linear narrative expectations, while adoring Howl's Moving Castle as the classicist anime, what is at work in Masaaki Yuasa's Mind Game is one of the most revelatory, celebratory and outright challenging works in the canon of animated films, comparing perhaps even with the great works of spatial and temporal reconsideration in all of cinema.  I found myself constant shifting my viewing expectations throughout the film, sometimes being lulled into the sensuous colors of certain scenes, only to have them slashed into black and white dreariness, or in most instances taken to an even higher hallucinatory level.  In a couple of the film's moments I found myself changing expectations and understanding relative to each frame within a montage, whose juxtaposition was so clearly considered and organized as to work on a psychological level equitable to that of the Soviet montage.  It is glaringly obvious that Yuasa is not merely a filmmaker who knows how to make a cool looking film, but one that desires to engage with as much of cinematic theory and history as possible, both as it relates to his field of animation, as well as its larger place within the framework of cinema as a reflection of the mind's eye or in a French New Wave approach, an absolute truth that reflects the disillusions of society.  Mind Game is a ton of things, none of which are misguided, half-boiled or poorly delivered, in fact, this movie begs to be carefully considered frame-by-frame, so much so that I found myself pausing, hoping that some degree of osmosis would allow for the bombardment of imagery, commentary and overall visceral pleasure to properly wash over me, instead, what I am left with post viewing is a wild desire to simply press play again and see where the connections emerge in a film that takes the idea of enigmatic narrative to a whole new place.

Attacking the narrative of Mind Game is daunting, considering that to a considerable degree it is a series of cyclical events interweaving together, or perhaps a dream sequence bookended between two parallel visions, that are possibly within their own diagetic vision, it is tough to say.  There are, however, moments that tie together to at least glean some possibility of a protagonist in the character of Nishi, a soft-spoken manga artist whose chance reencounter with a former crush Myon results in his being dragged to Myon's family restaurant where he meets up with Myon's sister Jiisan and their less than likable father who only seems concerned with his own sexual conquest.  Within moments of being there, Nishi who is trying to outshine Myon's romantic interest, becomes, along with the other members of the restaurant part of a stick up as a mysterious man in black and brutish enraged soccer player begin making a mess of the place, violently attacking those in the restaurant.  At one point, Nishi is shot by the soccer player, leading to his own near death experience, before assumedly being reincarnated and afforded a second chance to stifle the attack, this time successfully killing the soccer player and stealing the man in black's car taking the sisters along with him as he proceeds to flee the city, the lackeys of a mob boss chasing him along in the process.  This second chance at life leads to Nishi throwing caution to the wind in this chase, ramping of truck beds and speeding much to the frustration of the pursuers.  Eventually, trapped by an insurmountable roadblock, Nishi ramps the car off of a bridge which will lead to his and the sisters' certain death, yet as though by divine intervention, a whale leaps out of the water and swallows the car, with its passenger.  Confused initially by their survival, the group finds themselves in a Jonah like situation eventually running into a large boat, occupied by an old man who has been living in the belly of the beast for thirty plus years.  He explains that it is a futile effort to escape from the whale, because the nature of his feeding and breathing cause waves to push boats backwards.  The desperation felt by the group, leads into a series of hallucinatory spirals and visions that become the narrative framing for the remainder of the film and their style is so non-normative and transcendent that to even provide a vague explanation would be to betrays its unfolding intensity.

I was mesmerized by a variety of elements in this film, particularly the suggestion that identity is something that is constantly evolving and reshaping itself to afforded the most ideal presence in a situation.  Indeed, one could call Mind Game the cinematic equivalent of a chameleon, but even that would be a false moniker, because it suggest an evolutionary necessity of survival.  The narrative that Yuasa provides viewers with is far from concerned with safety and survival of the fittest, indeed the film almost seems certain that it is only through reckless behavior that any notion of survival is afforded.  The characters who fair well in this film are in a incessant state of motion, which allows for them to move through the boundaries of the living and the dead, while in other moments defying physics for extended periods of time.  Yet, the film seems to also suggest that while much of this dynamic presence exists in the physical, it is more often a result of allowing one to free themselves from the mental constraints of a singular experiential frame of reference.  Indeed, this is where Yuasa manages to extend even beyond the wild visions of Kon.  I would never suggest that Kon did not push the images that occupied his films to their farthest parameters, but it is worth noting that in even his best work Paprika the bodies that occupy the space remain visually the same, even when their space movies between two dimensions.  In Mind Game both the characters and the spaces move about from live-action stop motion as the most grounded visuals, to highly impressionist works that are would be nearly indistinguishable were it not for the preceding or following images to add a shade of context.  Yet even these styles betray a possibility of grounded identity, because they constantly shift from the memories and daydreams of the various characters, to the point that even in the closing moments of the film, it is unclear as to whose story the viewer has just watched, or if it was indeed any story at all.  While they are stylistically as opposite as possible, I can only think to compare Mind Game to Chris Marker's La Jetee, in so much as both seem to posit a world where things are in constant motion, and it is rare, if not near impossible for things to ever coalesce into perfect harmony, but when they do it proves to be nothing short of beautiful.

Key Scene:  The last twenty minutes of this film will cause you to reconsider everything you have previously understood about film.  Trust me, I swear by this statement.

So I had to use creative methods to hunt down this film, but I am seriously considering selling a kidney to get hyper-rare this DVD.

One Man's Sunset Is Another Man's Dawn: An American Tale: Fievel Goes West (1991)

While I do not have the most liberal tastes in film known to humanity, I am certainly willing to extend my boundaries in the name of discovering hidden gems within the lesser known corners of a genre and while I have certainly included farther stretches in terms of a "western genre" film so far this month, adding the sequel to the much adored An American Tail animated film is probably the biggest surprise. Of course, it is not, by any means, a stretch to include it within the viewing list, because it is very much a pioneering narrative as envisioned through the world of a few animated mice.  In fact, if one can overlook the fact that it is intended as a children's movie this is probably one of the more straightforward offerings in the western since revisionist westerns became the cool thing to create.  Between the voice cameo of an aged James Stewart and the always hilarious John Cleese this manages to be both a highly engaging children's movie, as well as something that could be easily enjoyed by adults or fans of classic films, both westerns and non, because it makes quite a slew of hilarious cinematic references.  Furthermore, much as was the case with the recent Studio Ghibli delight The Secret World of Arriety, the directing duo of Phillip Nibbelink and Simon Welles manage to take the world of very tiny creatures and then place that within a larger world of the exploits of a group of cats who themselves exist within a larger world of humans, it is a meta-meta-world (trust me I know it sounds pretentious, but it is deservedly called such) and the animation often suggest these layers within their composition.  Furthermore, Fievel Goes Wests exits at the tail-end, no pun intended, of the great revival in animation, which was occurring mostly at Disney, but certainly applies to this movie as well. While works like The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and to some degree Fievel Goes West, certainly possess problematic societal commentaries and a tone of stereotypes that must not be overlooked, even the most staunch of theorists find it tough to dismiss the absolutely mesmerizing quality of each picture.  It is a shame that Fievel Goes West had a release year simultaneous with Beauty and the Beast because in any other year it would have proven to be the standout work.

This sequel to An American Tale, once again focuses on The Mousekewitz family a family of Russian mice who have move to New York to pursue the American dream, headed by the go-get'em attitude of their young son Fievel.  This sequel again focuses on the family, although it is clear that their living situation in Bronx is far from ideal, thus spurring a desire to move out west when given an opportunity by an awkwardly animated mouse who possesses multiple tickets to the western town of Green River.  It is realized, by Fievel, during their trip that the mouse was actually the work of the dastardly and somewhat dandy cat Cat R. Waul who plans to use the labor of the mice to build a small metropolis in the streets of Green River only to devour the mice in "mouseburgers" upon completion of their task.  Fievel is unable to convince others of the issues, particularly since they all seem inclined to overlook the threat in the face of the new found vigor and success offered in the wild west town.  Eventually, Fievel must recruit the help of his friend the vegetarian cat Tiger, whose arrival to the west results in his being held up as a god to a tribe of Mousecassin indians.  While Fievel and Tiger certainly have ambition they lack the skills to properly face the gang of cats, who have managed to become so liked by the mouse folk that they long the date of their party and implementation into the village, particularly Fievel's sister Tanya who is being given a chance to sing during the festivities.  Acting fast, Fievel recruits the help of local dog sheriff Wylie, although his efforts are initially in vain, because the aged dog seems indifferent to suffering.  Eventually coming around to aiding the small mouse, Wylie, Tiger and Fievel take on Cat R. Waul and feline posse, making quick work of the some what bewildered cats who seem incapable of comprehending exactly how a group different animals could work so well together.  In the end they succeed and Green River becomes a place for friendly animals to co-habitate and as a point of respect Wylie appoints Fievel as a sheriff in the town.

The pioneer is a major trope within a handful of westerns, and while it has yet to be a major narrative in any of the previously reviewed films it, nonetheless, manages to have elements in the various stories, particularly the idea that something new is offered in the world of the west, whether it be opportunity or a chance to escape a miserable past.  Fievel Goes West take the trope of the pioneer and studies it, literally, to the most minuscule of proportions.  Often for pioneers in the western narrative, travel and movement are a result an unforeseen opportunity, or in the pursuit of  something deemed lost.  For The Mousekewitz's the movement is influenced by their hope for a life void of constant hunger and fear of attacks from cat bullies, whereas Tiger hopes to reconnect both with his friend Fievel as well as regain the love and admiration of his former girlfriend Miss Kitty.  The pioneering trek is far from easy, as it is often depicted in the western, and for a majority of the trip Fievel is lost to the family when he falls of the train and must wander through the desert.  Furthermore, minor tropes like dangerous wildlife and the threat of native attacks emerge as well, although they are minor in comparison to other elements.  Some degree of the escape often has an intangibility about it as well, for example, both Miss Kitty and Tanya seem to desire to leave to find their voice, which while literally referring to their singing possesses a layer of assumption that the new frontier will also provide them the opportunity to challenge entrenched and restrictive gender norms.  The musical element only aides this consideration with its purposefully idyllic tempo and escapist nature, the singing of Rawhide specifically manages to exoticize the west and ignore the very real despair faced by the stark desert landscape.  Finally, pioneer narratives often involve an exploitative individual who serves as an antagonist, usually providing more hindrance than help (refer to my recent review of Meek's Cutoff), or in the worst cases have ulterior motives that will harm the pioneers, in Fievel Goes West it is a literal desire to consume the mice for sustenance.  These various elements paired together make Fievel Goes West a wonderful animated feature, as well as a great consideration of the pioneering tale within the western framework.

Key Scene:  The entire cat saloon scene beginning with Tanya singing through her dance number with Cat R. Waul's paw speaks to the layers of worlds going on in this film and is nothing short of spectacular.

Should you even remotely enjoy animated films there is no reason not to grab a copy of this and An American Tail for a steal on DVD.

Curiosity Often Leads To Trouble: Alice In Wonderland (1951)

It was an interesting task to consider which Disney vehicle I would incorporate into my women in film month, particularly considering the fact that female characters do occupy a considerable amount of the space within the companies near century of animated cinema.  My first instinct was to go with Mary Poppins, unfortunately, I was not able to obtain a copy in time and, instead, decided to choose Alice In Wonderland, a film that had long been sitting on my shelf begging to be revisited.  I remember moments of the film from my childhood, whether it be the croquet card scene, or the singing garden scene, however, there were many sections that I had seemingly forgotten all about, whether it be the oyster story, or the smoking caterpillar.  Suffice to say, Alice In Wonderland is an exceptionally trippy film, although this should be of little surprise considering that its narrative text does draw heavily from Lewis Carroll's book of the same name and history has shown it to be a piece of literature fueled heavily by some sever addictions to opium.  Yet simply having source material, by no means, explains the visual intensity of Alice In Wonderland, a world so magical that to call it expressionistic would suggest that it is simply some version of reality blown to extreme proportions.  The space of Alice In Wonderland certainly moves to grandiose terms, yet they are done so within a decidedly magical and notably subconscious state of mind.  Having watched Frankenweenie recently and been blown away by its stylistic choices, seeing Alice in Wonderland reminds me that even Tim Burton had to draw influence from previous examples and this highly visual film certainly had to have been such a point of reference.  If it were not to be notable for some rather intriguing considerations on the notion of a feminist awakening, Alice in Wonderland could certainly stand its own in comparison to some of my other favorite psychedelically based animated films, Paprika and Yellow Submarine.

Alice in Wonderland, with the exception of one additional character follows quite closely to Carroll's original text, and, as such, focuses on Alice, a young girl whose disdain for pursuing the learned things with gender attachments leads her to daydream about escaping to another world.  During one expose into dreams of another world, Alice witnesses a white rabbit with a watch run by her, feverishly concerned with making haste as to assure not being late for some meeting.  The curiosity of an anthropomorphic animal draws Alice into following him into his rabbit hole, an endeavor that quickly spirals into an inexplicable magical world of episodic encounters with baffling characters, whether they be a pair of gibberish spouting twins who tell her a story of decadence centered around a walrus and carpenter longing to eat some oysters, or a visit with a hookah smoking caterpillar who answers all questions with either repetition or even more perplexing questions.  All the while Alice finds herself attempting to learn the rules and intricacies of the world she has discovered, such as the trick of consuming food that either causes her to grow or shrink in considerable size as a result.  While most characters seem only passively concerned with her presence, the encounter with the cheshire cat, perhaps the narratives most famous character, aside from Alice of course, proves interesting in that beneath his clear veneer of playfulness he seems absolutely concerned with assuring Alice safely navigates the absurd world she has entered, one in which societal norms are disregarded by mad hatters and unconventional tea parties, as well as a place where authority figures are tyrannical, using their position to threaten as opposed to aid.  Ultimately, Alice finds herself needing to flee from the land when her life is threatened and when she reaches the exit of the rabbit hole she realizes that she has only been navigating a dreamscape, or so it seems, as she finds herself recalling the very real physicality  of her experiences, when talking to her tutor after awaking.

I mention this film being a text about an awakening of sorts, particularly in the feminist context.  It is no irony that the original book emerged from opium visions, something individuals initially engage in with the hopes of expanding their frame of reference or world vision.  Of course, as most drug narratives go the heavier a person becomes invested in said drugs, the more they will seek out an expansion, often becoming addicted or getting involved in more dangerous methods of achieving their new world vision.  Alice in Wonderland certainly considers these issues, however, I think it, ultimately, moves past this narrative and chooses to use the mind expansion rhetoric to help lead Alice from a state of internalized gender oppression to a larger realization of herself being the other into possessing her own space and identity, at times simply affirming that she is human when flowers berate her for not being like them, or in other moments actually growing to the point of bursting through trees, perhaps a pre-aware suggestion of bursting through a glass ceiling.  It would be one narrative is Alice simply travelled through the Wonderland with strict awe for all moments she witnesses, however, even in the moments of absurdism she seems keenly aware of oppression or illogical actions occurring.  She, in fact, is one of the few people who seems aware of the unchallenged power possessed by The Queen of Hearts, rolling her eyes at her tirades and enraged yelling.  The Queen shows Alice a problematic reference to ill-obtained power, that makes her reflect on everything she has experience up until this point and realize that her new discoveries of self-identity and the possibility of empowerment mean nothing if she uses these realizations as a means to appropriate power in her own terms and completely ignore a push towards egalitarian identities and societies in the process.  The closing scenes seem to suggest this understanding on the part of a young Alice and, undoubtedly, add a layer of feminist awareness to a super trippy film, a rather unusual feat on the part of the decidedly problematic Disney tradition.

Key Scene:  The oyster story is amazing and clearly serves as a point of reference for so many things produced by both Disney and later Pixar, not to mention it serving as a masterful story on the woes of decadence.

The DVD is already expensive, not to mention the bluray, but it is very much worth owning.  Yet should you find the money daunting, it is currently available on Netflix.

I'm Bad, And That's Good: Wreck-It Ralph (2012)

I am quite uncertain about the overarching message relating to Wreck-It Ralph, while it appears to be a scathing critique of capitalist based endeavors, it also does little to clearly condemn the notion of conformity as the only means to assure safety and order.  What is excellent about the film, regardless of a convoluted moral message, is its sheer degree of watchability, particularly visually.  A diehard video game fan will likely react to this film in one of two ways.  Either they will dismiss the very minimal use of famous video game iconography due to licensing issues and thus find it to be an all around failure in concerns to the notion of a game about games (I assure you it is not quite that meta).  The other reaction to the film will be one that embraces the minimal use of video game iconography in favor of a visual style that commits to some of the movements and works of gaming, both in regards to contemporary high definition game, as well as in relation to the pixelated simplicity of games from eras far gone.  I am certainly within the latter camp, in that I found its visual offering quite easy to embrace and was actually worried that the film would spend far too much time clinging to video game references, yet under the direction of Rich Moore, whose involvement with work like Futurama clearly shows through, as the references, like those in the show about a nineties guy living in the future, serves as a means to an end.  Every use of Q*Bert or Pac-Man exist as a means to compile a narrative and the film, instead creates its own set of excellent fictional characters to fill the world, in fact, the one classic character who seems to get more screen time than any other appears to be Zangeif of Street Fighter fame and to be honest, in that situation doesn't everybody win?  Wreck-It Ralph is an absolutely funny film, perfectly navigating the line between children and adult humor, often coexisting within the same scenes and it does not take a detailed understanding of the history of video games to really appreciate this film, although the film certainly provides some moments of reference that are so very obscure that even the most versed of fan boys will find themselves jogging their memory of the classics.

Wreck-It Ralph focuses on the title character of Ralph (John C. Reilly) a bad guy in the world of arcade games, something he is coming to despise that it means he must live in the world of bad guy land, or in his case in a brick dump right outside of his game space.  The game he exists within is occupied by the hero Fix It Felix, Jr. (Jack McBrayer) for which the game shares the same name, and Felix, Jr. is the heralded champion of their space, considering that it is often he who saves the penthouse that Ralph destroys.  Even though the space clearly designates between good and evil, Ralph often travels outside of his game to the game center to hang out with fellow bad guys in Bad-Anon meetings, where he attempts to come to grips with his badness.  Yet, Ralph simply wants to obtain a gold medal and be appreciated and when he is not acknowledged on the thirtieth anniversary of the game he ends up "going Turbo" a phrase designated for a former racing game character who became jealous of the success of another game, leading to his moving to that game and subsequently destroying its space.  Ralph's movement through the other game spaces is in no way malicious and he simply desires to obtain an icon of success, actually winning a gold medal in the game Hero's Duty, much to the frustration of its lead character Calhoun (Jane Lynch).  Yet during his existence in the space of this game, he brings along a bug that transfers to his next game space Sugar Rush threatening to infiltrate the sugar pop world and destroy its very core, of course Ralph is oblivious to this all despite being chased by both Calhoun and Felix, Jr. at this point.  During his movement through Sugar Rush he meets up with Penelope (Sarah Silverman) a wily and bratty girl who desires to be a racer in the world, despite being a glitch within the game, something that causes her to be a point of condemnation within the world, particularly in the eyes of world's leader King Candy (Alan Tudyk).  From here on the narrative centers on both Ralph and Penelope as they push towards proving that they are certainly more than their coded identities, something that takes a considerable amount of drive and determination, as well as some confrontation with the very fabrication of the game spaces in which they exist, something they realize has been tampered with far before their arrival.  Needless to say things are returned to order, Ralph embraces his identity as a bad guy, while Penelope learns to adapt her glitch to the game.   For extra kicks, Calhoun and Felix, Jr. even get married.

One can certainly create a quarrel over the positive or negative themes spouted within this film, after all it is a Disney offering and, unlike the previously reviewed Frankenweenie, it is not afforded the artistic reigns of a Tim Burton and must adhere to certain ideologies.  With that being said, I would argue that Wreck-It Ralph is easily the most scathing critique of blind capitalist ambition since Wall-E, while also being extremely concerned with adhering to conformity, something more in line with the Disney films of yore.  I will say this about Wreck-It Ralph, overlooking the other two themes, I would instead focus on its concern for the nature of relevance and staying fresh as it relates to society.  In fact, it is as much a narrative about the woes of growing old as it is anything else.  Much of Ralph's woes come from him not receive appreciation for his job, but that could certainly double as regret for being stuck in the same place for way longer than he planed, a metaphor for the dead end job mentality perhaps, or take Felix, Jr. whose name suggests his own existence within a lineage, something that he, at first, does not outright reject, but upon his meeting of Calhoun he certainly changes his tune ever so slightly.  Even Calhoun has her issues, especially considering that she has lost her fiancé in the past to the creatures of a game which she can never leave.  Even the arcade itself plays into this metaphor (perhaps this film is more meta than I suggested) in that the aging Mr. Litwak (Ed O'Neil) clearly moves with a blasé attitude through is flailing arcade, knowing it is only a matter of time before it is financially illogical to stay open, considering that attendance has dwindled, which is quite a true statement if anybody has seen an arcade as of late, let alone one in operation.  The narrative then rests almost entirely in Penelope who desires nothing more than to exist in the moment and race, she is not only oblivious to the woes of aging or staying important, but almost transcends them, this helps contextualize her glitching as an act of almost nirvana in that she is clearly able to detach herself from the constraints of temporal and spatial existence for her benefit, and, in the end, the benefit of the entirety of the arcade.  The narrative cleverly embraces an idea of continued relevance through incorporation of the past into the present, an acknowledgement of the retro is a term the film uses.  It is clever considering that Disney created this film and at this point they seem to own everything for every persons' childhood (the metaness of this film only grows).

Key Scene:  The Bad-Anon meetings are quite hilarious and only one of the many genuine laughs within the film.

This is still in theaters and certainly benefits from being on the big screen, I suggest taking along somebody of a varied age as it helps to pick up on many of the multiple facets to this complex film, also the animated short at the beginning is quite beautiful.

Your Dog Is Alive!: Frankenweenie (2012)

As I get closer to compiling the ever important best films of last year list (at least in my head I have blown it to such proportions) I considered creating a tie at number ten for Django Unchained and Moonrise Kingdom, two solid films by well-established directors that were not their greatest work, but managed to prove quite decent...and then I saw Frankenweenie.  Now I am quite aware that Tim Burton is tied to Dark Shadows, for which I have not seen, but have, nonetheless heard to be quite bad.  I say that this changed my opinion of Django Unchained and Moonrise Kingdom only because while those films were good they failed to depict either Tarantino or Anderson taking any serious leaps as directors.  What viewers are provided with in regards to Frankenweenie is a film in which a director has clearly chosen to create something fresh, new and has certainly attempted to expand artistically.  Frankenweenie is, of course, a visual masterpiece, something that is often assumed with the work of Burton and its clear homage to the classic era of monster movies is much welcomed by myself and from what I have been able to glean, pretty much anyone else either old enough or film literate enough to appreciate the references.  However, the visual elements are only a minor factor in the larger magic of Burton's pseudo-remake of a short film from earlier in his career.  It is much more than the story of attempting to reattain a dead animal and becomes a deeply sobering consideration of the larger concept of loss, as well as a fitting comfortably within a world of ill-fitting conformities.  The film demands that viewers consider their own implications within a society of oppression and condemnation for anything even remotely unconventional, while also challenging the notion that to question anything is to inherently desire an undermining of systematic order.  Also, the very adult nature of the images, as well as the themes, makes one consider its category as a Disney film, particularly an animated one at that.  In fact, if it were not for the existence of The Straight Story within their production collection, I would outright call this the biggest surprise in regards to Disney films to date.

Frankenweenie focuses on the aptly named young Victor Frankenstein (Charlie Tahan) whose desire to make homemade sic-fi movies on his low budget camera that star his dog Sparky seems to be more than enough to make his life happy, even though is parents seem somewhat concerned about his rather introverted lifestyle.  Victor lives within the town of New Holland which is overseen by the rather cantankerous and fear-mongering Mr. Burgemeister (Martin Short) whose hopes for New Holland being a land of ideal living are forced upon the community as well as his niece Elsa Van Helsing (Winona Ryder) who attempts to befriend Victor on multiple occasions.  During one of his days at school, Victor becomes fascinated with the possibility of winning his school science fair supervised by the ghastly Mr. Rzykruski, for whom Victor has taken a liking.  Victor's dad, also voiced by Martin Short, encourages his interest in the sciences, but also suggests that the young boy attempt sports as a means of making new friends and rounding himself out.  It is during his first game that Victor finds success hitting a ball out of the park, yet when Sparky chases after the ball gleefully he becomes victim to an car accident, dying on the spot.  Victor, is understandably devastated by the occurrence and takes to living as a hermit yet again, until he learns about the power of electricity to revive the muscles in a dead being.  Creating his own traditional Frankenstein experiment on Sparky, Victor is able to successfully revive his dead dog, although the bizarre nature of such an act forces him to sequester the happy pup into hiding, leading to suspicion from his classmates, parents and Elsa who desperately attempts to gain his attention.  A young boy named Edgar "E" Gore (Atticus Shaffer) learns of Victor's secret and exploits him in order to gain information for his own science project, leading to larger suspicions on the part of the youth in the community, eventually resulting in their own bizarre science experiments that, ultimately, lead to giant turtles, mutated sea monkeys and vampire cats roaming the town of New Holland, much to the frustration of Mr. Burgemeister.  Victor is required to put his scientific brain to the test in reversing all the experiments, eventually leading to an intense final climax at the towns windmill, which is now in flames and he learns a larger lesson on sacrifice from Sparky in the process.

This film is a veritable prose poem on the nature of loss both in terms of innocence and a close intimate connection.  While it does not outright say it and I have not done any researrch to verify it, I would imagine that the concept for this story came from a very personal part of Burton's soul as the means by which he depicts losing a childhood pet is quite accurate.  I never personally lost a dog, but I know the devastation of losing a cat at a very young age, something that is often a child's first experience with death.  The second element of this narrative seems to suggest a passion for refusing to give up on anything you love, even if that thing changes, sure this is evidenced in Victor's desire to bring Sparky back to live, but it also rings true in his quest for scientific truth.  As Mr. Rzykruski reminds him, no truth can occur in science without a person truly loving the experiment with which they are engaged.  The town of course is entirely opposed to this concept as they see it as a cause in one local boy being injured, although the narrative seems quite intent on suggesting it a result of some rather direct bullying.  Victor's parents are certainly loving towards the troubled youth, but even their liberal and progressive mindset proves challenged when they are asked to not only go against an entire anti-science community, but also accept that their son has brought an inanimate object back to life and expects it to be treated like part of the family.  Burton's choice to set the film within a clearly fifties setting, while also making it a contemporary dialogue is likely intended to cause viewers to consider their separation from the fear and blindness of Cold War America, something that the various monster movies referenced within the film reinforce beautifully.  I cannot begin to list the other commentaries existing within this film as they are both broad and specific to scenes, suffice to say this is the single best thing offered by a Disney subsidiary since Up and reminds me that there is a clear division between this and some of the conservative oriented crap they tend to release.

Key Scene:  The introduction of the various science experiement monsters will make any lover of old sci-fi/horror movies gush with enjoyment.

Buy this bluray, I certainly intend to at some point, even if it does have a bit of a hefty price tag.  Until its release date I would suggest renting it from a Redbox.

Magnetic Roses, Stink Bombs And Cannon Fodder: Memories (1995)

While I have been ashamedly voiceless on this blog about my love of Akira, both as a perfected piece of anime, as well as being transcendent of its style into an exceptional piece of cinema, I have not shied away from defending Japan's long standing animation tradition as deserved of receiving discussion in the same voice as the auteurs and the larger cinematic history.  I cite Miyazaki and Kon as particular examples of this, although I must give all credit to Katsuhiro Otomo for my love of anime as a genre of film, in fact, Akira is easily one of my favorite films of all-time and were it not for the unfortunately high price of the available bluray copies I would own this masterpiece in the highest definition possible.  Memories, like Robot Carnival, which I have yet to see, stood as one of the works that sat on my shame list for not seeing, fortunately, I finally got around to watching it and it was more than a revelation, three unique yet undeniably bonded stories about the idea of reflection, one cannot help but bow to the unique cinematic magnitude offered only within animation.  The first story Magnetic Rose is sci-fi perfection made all the more gripping by the writing of the late Satoshi Kon, whose desire to challenge and undermine viewers assumptions burst through perfectly.  Second, is Stink Bomb, which is easily the weakest of the three stories, although this should not cause concern, because its deceptively light-hearted narrative allows viewers to consider the tradition of various filmic genres in Japan as well as a controversial relationship with the Western world.  Finally, to say that Otomo's own offering to the compilation, Cannon Fodder, is unique is a blatant understatement.  Watching the disheveled, dystopic clearly steampunk influenced world Otomo depicts, one cannot help but have everything they have understood about animation completely reconsidered, because the poetics and artistic level exuding from a half-hour anime short manage to provide for a deeply moving and heartbreakingly tragic piece of cinema on innocence and its unknowing loss.  Memories is everything one could want from a compilation piece, unique stories, powerhouse names providing these stories and a revelation on human existence worth many revisitations.

Memories exists, as noted, of three different stories, the first being Magnetic Rose, which borrows heavily and respectfully from the world of Alien, however, where Scott's film contest the nature of consciousness and a desire to live, Magnetic Rose, under the writing of Kon asks viewers to reflect on how memories influence our desire to support or destroy the world we live in.  It centers on a crew answering a distress call from a large ship at the center of a space ship graveyard.  The emergence onto this large vessel reveals a grandly realized simulacrum so deceptive that it proves to trap even the most rational of minds into the cold abyss of space.  The second story, Stink Bomb, centers on the accidental consumption of government funded medicine by a lab assistant who thinks it to be heavy power cold medicine.  The pill, however, causes the hapless scientist to become a walking weapon of nuclear warfare, in that he emits such a foul odor that it causes anyone in its path to lose all control of their nervous system and pass out for lengthy amounts of time.  In the process, the young chemist comes to understand the backdoor dealings involved in the world of pharmaceuticals, as well as the levels of transnational corruption involved in such engagements.  Finally, Cannon Fodder, centers on a city whose sole job appears to be firing off cannons at an nondescript location in the faraway distance, looking specifically at one boys struggle to transcend his working class identity via aspirations to become a high ranking officer in the system of cannon firing.  The narrative, as should be obvious, considers the issues of class mobility and consciousness, as they relate to the problems of an overtly regimented, clearly fascist form of bureaucracy.  The three coalesce beautifully and manage to reflect on levels of the personal, the national, the global and to some degree the universal, showing both the beauty and tragedy in each.

It seems as though the particular approach to memories within these three distinct stories manages to piggyback of these varying notions of interactions, firstly considering the idea of personal memory, which clearly affects the actions and eventual submission of the astronaut Heinz who clearly suffers from his accidental involvement in the untimely death of his daughter, something that is eventually exploited by the corrupt computer to cause him to stay onboard assuring his death.  This personal notion of memory is also challenged by a universal one in so much as the junk and rocks floating freely throughout space represent a physical memory that can either be seconds or billions of years old, all of which move towards a magnetic center overtime, a hugely realized commentary on existential woes.  Furthermore, Stink Bomb suggests the lingering effects of a historical memory, particularly one that is formed between The United States and Japan in regards to nuclear warfare, in focusing on the accidental emergence of a nuclear weapon at the hands of a clumsy scientist, viewers are asked to consider the very human element involved in even the thought of testing nuclear warfare.  The unconscious bodies littering the streets of tokyo take on a very real call back to the tragic loss of persons in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  It also considers the way in which dueling memories of the act of nuclear warfare affect how groups engage with one another, which is excellently depicted in the splintering relations between the Japanese and American generals throughout the work.  Finally, the film considers the issue of fabricated memories, explored in Cannon Fodder via a fictional fascist state in which the entire town fires cannons day by day with little or no question to its purpose.  In fact, the only point of contention emerges via a brief scene in which a few works demand that the chemical used to launch the cannons be cleaner thus equating to safer working conditions, ideas of armistice are irrelevant.  In a rather Foucaldian ending one cannot help but consider why the boy is ashamed of his father, particularly since it appears as though the ever-present search lights and indoctrinations of this town demand that he aspire for greatness, although the promise of his future is of course a guise, any one familiar with the history of fascism will easily pick up on this idea.

Key Scene:  There is a moment of childlike animation in Cannon Fodder that is completely unexpected and would be foolish or irrelevant in most animated films, yet its commentary and evolution into another image is so tragic that it cannot, and should not, be overlooked.

This, unfortunately, is currently only available on DVD, but that does not mean it should not be purchased, it is well worth owning and revisiting regularly, it has certainly inspired me to look back on Akira in the weeks to come.

He's A Nowhere Man: Yellow Submarine (1968)

The story goes that the animated film, centering around the alter egos of The Beatles, known as The Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, was made purely as a means to get the famous group out of their undesired movie contract, yet once they viewed the final product that was Yellow Submarine they were so enthralled and happy by the outcome that they agreed to provide a live-action epilogue as a pseudo thank you.   It takes only moments into this spectacularly psychedelic film to realize why exactly The Beatles would come to love such a film, one that is absolutely extraordinary in what it achieves via hand drawn animation, as well as societal commentary.  It is no small task to make a successful animated film, let alone one that is decidedly geared towards an older audience, yet in the careful hands of George Dunning viewers are provided with something spectacular.  While The Beatles  music has never been begging to be visualized it is clear that Yellow Submarine evokes the words, social outcries and existential angst that came to so obviously signify the work by the group for the latter portion of their career.  Like many of the great films, Yellow Submarine suffered from existing as nothing more than rotations on British television, yet when this particular piece of Beatles nostalgia was revived, a rekindling and remembrance of how truly spectacular this work was emerged.  Furthermore, the accessibility, universality and certainly the trippy nature of Yellow Submarine resulted in a whole new generation coming to love and appreciate The Beatles in a way transcendent of their music, and with a recent bluray upgrade, it only proves that more people will have a chance to discover this seminal work.  A mix of tragedy and celebration, Yellow Submarine exudes a poetic nature that demands its viewing, multiple times and with multiple people, as it truly proves to be something far grander than a film made by The Beatles to get out of an undesired movie contract.

Yellow Submarine begins with an introduction to the world of Pepperland, in which people sing, dance and exist in merriment to the tunes and beats of Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.  The idyllic world of Pepperland, however, comes under attack by the scrutinizing and condemning eye of The Meanings, a group of blue persons who live to causes sadness and depression, while always answering "NO" to any question raised.  Their wave of malaise sweeps over Pepperland causing all those existing within its colorful landscape to turn blue and freeze in time, including SPLHCB, who are specifically trapped in a bubble.  The only person who escapes the onslaught of this attack is Old Fred (Lance Percival) a wily elderly man who in a state of befuddlement takes the town's Yellow Submarine and travels to what we can assume to be Liverpool, since it is there that he meets up with The Beatles.  Of course, this vision of England, shown while Eleanor Rigby is playing, reflects the current state of Pepperland, as each of the band members moves through the streets and houses with a sense of desolation.  After many failed attempts to understand Old Fred whose phrases are nearly intelligible, the group agrees to join him on the submarine and travel to Pepperland.  This journey takes them forwards and backwards in time, even passing their past selves on the journey.  Along the way they pick up a mask wearing rodent whose name is Jeremy Hilary Boob, PhD., or as the members of the group suggest a veritable Nowhere Man as he spouts off poems, ideas and feelings that have no logical grounding.  After losing Ringo at least once, the group eventually makes it to Pepperland where they take on The Meanies, at first finding little success with their music, yet when they release the SPLHCB from their prison and realize that they have an uncanny similarity to them, they attack The Meanies with great success and bring vibrancy and life back to Pepperland.  The film then closes with the song All Together Now, as unity seems to be the suggested course of action for the future.

Yellow Submarine is, as should be obvious, inundated with the feelings and advocacy of social revolution so seemingly inherent in the sixties, especially 1968.  Primarily, this is a film that contests the notion that disconnect and social malaise are positive, particularly if said distancing is the result of heavy conservative values that dismiss any sort of revolution, whether it be rioting in the streets or speaking out politically.  The freezing of SPLHCB represents political suppression to some degree, especially since it is done by The Meanies, whose "NO" spouting ideologies represent the most dangerous variations of conservatism. One can extend this consideration to incorporate the pointing hand that is a weapon of The Meanies.  Its judgmental connotations, reflect another element of conservative values, ones in which individuals find scape goats for their problems, signifying difference as a means to separate, even if their actions harm nobody, or actually suggest egalitarian ideals or progressive actions.  Jeremy/Nowhere Man then becomes an interesting figure in this context because he exists both as a voice to transcend conservatism and the social malaise overtaking Pepperland (The Western Global Community), yet he has become so disenfranchised and disillusioned that any of the theories or ideas he promotes are so incoherent that they seem absurd or almost mocking.  This only makes The Beatles eventual love of their film that much greater, because it shows that they realize their place as musicians to provide commentary to society, one that advocates love and unity and answering "Yes" when possible, and doing so "all together now."

Key Scene:  It is a dead tie between the Eleanor Rigby and Nowhere Man scenes,  both of which are incredibly sad and poetically transcendent.

This movie will surprise you, and if you have not seen it in some time revisit the work, especially post-restoration, it is seriously a thing of beauty.  Grab the bluray immediately.

If We're Seen, We Have To Leave: The Secret World of Arriety (2010)

Studio Ghibli is essentially a flawless company that has only gained a larger global acclaim with the help of Disney and the douchy shirt wearing John Lasseter.  While the handful of anime films released by this Disney subsidiary certainly have their father company to thank it is clear that most of the credit for their success should be directed to Hayao Miyazaki, the now aging director of anime classics such as Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away.  While Miyazaki has stepped down from the directors seat he was present as a writer, and, undoubtedly, as an advisor on Studio Ghibli's most recent offering, The Secret World of Arrietty which is based off the British novel The Borrowers written by Mary Norton some sixty years earlier.  While The Secret World of Arrietty is nowhere close to Miyazaki's masterpiece Howl's Moving Castle it is a clear work of art and a solid example of the cinematic possibilities of animation, a fact that many film critics still seem hesitant to embrace.  Like many of Studio Ghibli's other offerings, The Secret World of Arrietty is both accessible, yet quite broad in its commentary and philosophical pondering, and with the exception of the work of Satoshi Kon, I have trouble thinking of another anime director who is as concerned with the simplest of details in their work.  A key animator, under the tutelage of Miyazaki, it is clear that the films director Hiromasa Yonebayashi is prepared to take the reigns for the now well-respected Studio Ghibli and I know for one that I am excited at the future prospects.

As is the case with many works tied to Miyazaki, the film concerns itself with the experiences of particularly young individuals, however, these youth are rarely offered world situations that are remotely possible in the physical realm and often rely on worlds of magic and make believe for their existence.  The Secret World of Arrietty one such film as it focuses on the life of the title character Arrietty who is, along with her mother Homily and father Pod, a Borrower.  Borrowers are miniature versions of human beings that borrow small items from humans that they can live without missing, such as thread, needles, sugar and tissue.  It is their belief that they must remain out of the sight of humans because to be spotted by humans would assure their destruction, because as Pod make clear, their curiosity would lead them to ruin the Borrower lifestyle.  Arrietty seems set to abide by these rules and looks forward to her time as Borrower, until she is spotted accidentally by a human named Shawn.  Shawn despite being very calm in his approaches, given an life-threatening heart disease, is dismissed by Arrietty who assures him that no good can come of their interactions.  Arrietty's reservations are assured when Shawn's aunt becomes obsessed with catching the Borrowers, because she has been living in seclusion for years after public mocking for her previous claims of spotting such creatures.  As such, she hires exterminators to catch the Borrowers, much to the dismay of Shawn.  Realizing the impossibilities of unity, Shawn sets out to help Arrietty and her family move from the house to a new location and luckily, the task is made considerably easier by Arrietty's father running into another borrower, who provides guidance to a new location in a more urban area of Japan.  Both Arrietty and Shawn part with sorrow in their heart, yet they realize that their summer will represent a lasting memory in their lives of something magical and sentimental.  It is heartbreaking, but in a way that reminds viewers of the possibility of good in humanity.

When I reviewed Paprika awhile back I made note of the problems technology presented to women's relationship in society.  I argued that through objectification and disconnect women were oppressed on at least a theoretical level.  When referencing this, it is interesting to discover that the worlds of not only this film, but most other Studio Ghibli films place women in a rather progressive place.  Arrietty is an independent girl who desperately desires to carve her own path in the world and clearly dismisses the notions of domesticity pushed forcefully by her mother.  This is a theme that manifests itself in other Ghibli works, most notably in Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away.  Even the males within these works diverge from gender norms, Pod is a masculine in his demeanor, but is clearly an affectionate and loving father, while Shawn is in tune with his emotional side and promotes unity over the possibility of oppressive power.  In fact, it is clear that this film, as well as others from the studio, suggest that such traditions of gender are problematic and often only reside in the minds of an older generation.  With this in mind, a character like the aunt within the film are more understandable as villains, not only does she represent someone out to destroy the Borrowers, but she also wishes to maintain traditional gender norms as well.  It is interesting as well to compare this character to say the work of Ozu, in which gender mores were propagated by an aging male figure, in many Miyazaki films the paternal oppressor is not only not present, but rarely acknowledged.  All is not perfect in these films though, as they often end with the suggestion that the characters have found some sort of heteronormative relationship to engage in, this is certainly the case in The Secret World of Arrietty, as Arrietty is shown in the closing credits accepting a gift from Spiller, a male Borrower who has shown interest in her.  Problematic for sure these images must be criticized, however, as a whole the film does question gender roles and their apparent concreteness.  It suggests a possibility for fluidity and the evolution from an older ignorant tradition.

While The Secret World of Arrietty has been out in Japan for nearly two years, it is only now completing its U.S. theatrical run and it is certainly worth checking out in theaters.  It was my first anime theatrical viewing and the fully realized world of Arriety pours off the screen beautifully.  Also, I have to agree with my girlfriend on how awesome Arriety's room is in the film.

First We Find Her, And Then We Sleep: Renaissance (2006)

Bladerunner will forever be cemented in my memory as the perfect hybrid of science fiction and film noir and I have very little faith that a film will ever be released that could remotely rival Ridley Scott's masterpiece.  With that being said, a film occasionally comes along that makes me question my belief, because its artistic rendering and elaborate plot catches me long enough to think it will deliver a pitch perfect movie.  However, in ever case to date any movie I have watched thinking it will be the next Bladerunner has always let me down, sadly, this includes my recent viewing of the French animated neo-noir Renaissance.  The movie was excellent, watchable and artistically inspiring, yet by the end of the film, I was left feeling as though I had been cheated out of something extra.  Perhaps it missed Rutger Hauer holding a dove, or the general badass nature of Harrison Ford, but despite being a visual feast, Renaissance just is not the next Bladerunner.  The story line is more appropriate for an anime miniseries and the characters are simply not realized enough to cement it as either a noir or sci-fi masterpiece.  However, Renaissance is considerably better than a lot of the garbage that has been released in the past few years and as such, it deserves its fair share of praise.

Given that the film is primarily animated I will not bother noting the actors' names, but it is worth noting that Daniel Craig signed on to provide voices for the English release.  Renaissance begins with the kidnapping of a scientist named Ilona, whose name is closely attached with the Big Brotheresque corporation Avalon, which posits an ability to cure the ugly affects of aging.  This sudden and inexplicable kidnapping is followed by the introduction of Karas, a rough-edged cop with a dark past who rarely plays by the rules.  Karas makes it his sole mission to find Ilona's kidnapper, which includes approaching Avalon's CEO as well as a variety of other members of the Parisian underworld.  Unfortunately, these chases and encounters provide him with little success and he eventually approaches Ilona's sister Bislane about the whereabouts of her sister.  Realizing the grandiosity of the situation, Bislane agrees to help Karas break into Avalon's security to discover the nature of Ilona's work.  With some risk, Bislane discovers that her sister had been working on a project with one Dr. Nakata to discover a cure for aging.  Their testing was done in a rather unethical manner using a handful of children who eventually died, which led to a complete destruction of the test results.  This discovery leads Karas to reflect on his own past and he begins opening up to Bislane, while at the same time discovering that another individual involved with Avalon named Dr. Muller decided to hide the information about the tests from Avalon given his belief that the corporation would use the actions unethically.  It is then discovered Ilona has been placed in confinement with Dr. Muller's brother, who is stuck in the confines of a young child, despite having the appearances of an old man.  The young Muller has placed Ilona in a cyberchamber and is controlling her visual experiences, which range from the serene to the terrifying.  After doing investigative work, Karas finds the whereabouts of Ilona and Muller's brother and meets them in their hideout.  Karas, unfortunately, comes to the realization that the only way to assure that Avalon does not obtain Dr. Nakata's research is to kill Ilona.  With regret, Karas kills Ilona and realizes his newfound relationship with Bislane will be forever ruined by his decision.  The film then closes on an image of Muller's brother burning a picture of the brothers and he fades into the darkness of the underworld around him.

Renaissance is a very aware movie in its commentary on race relations in Paris, France.  While not as gritty, one could call this the animated answer to Mathieu Kassovitz's La Haine, which was also shot in black and white.  Like, La Haine, Renaissance, realizes that the divisions of black and white are often problematic as most answers reside somewhere in the grey areas.  For Karras his own identity is muddled, as he finds himself performing his actions in a predominantly white world, when his past and own affiliations are inextricably tied to a Arabic underworld, as is evidenced first and foremost by his name and his own leanings toward Islam.  Similarly, it is on Karras's squad that we see one of the only black characters in the entire film and the character is a woman as well, a site for bell hooks to behold.  Finally, even the characters of Ilona and Bislane are relevant given that they are both blatantly of some Eastern European origins, most likely Russian.  Their scientific expertise is the larger factor in their placement in Paris, yet their research as implied by images shown is only assuring the safety of white Parisians, whether it be the Avalon CEO, or the very white face of Avalon billboards.  Even the head doctor of the project is not white, yet he is ruined because of the research that had little benefit to him.  The film does end with promise as everything merges into one color of darkness and the credits close with images of grey between the blacks and whites, which imply the possibility of a cohesive and beautiful mix of past racial divides.

I plan to keep a copy of this movie in my collection, solely for its place in the evolution of film noir.  However, any person interested in the evolution of CGI and technology in film should snag a copy of this film, because it is a visual masterpiece, and while I own a DVD copy, I plan to upgrade to bluray in the near future.

Magicians Do Not Exist: The Illusionist (2010)

I stumbled upon The Triplets of Belleville by accident upon purchasing a copy at one of the many rental stores that has went out of business in the past few years.  Not knowing what to expect, I was taken back by the surreal beauty and existential ennui that engulfed Sylvain Chomet's cinematic world.  So when I heard that he was adapting a Jacques Tati play into an animated film, I was elated.  I expected a brilliant piece of animation that would have me gasping with delight at its grandiose composition and zany subtleties.  The Illusionist gave me those expectations full force, however, what I was not expecting was an achingly tragic movie.  I assumed without reading any synopsis that The Illusionist would be completely comic and slapstick and from the beginning this proved true, yet by the films closing the viewer is left in such a state of existential despair that would have the most stalwart of people questioning their purpose in life.  The Illusionist is a masterpiece of animation that captures an idea and identity magnificently, and Chomet stands beside Miyazaki as one of the few animators whose work truly transcends the world of children's movies into a much more mature and darkly tinted place.

The Illusionist opens with black and white imagery of a magician executing tricks masterfully implying a man whose days of popularity are antiquated, this notion is quickly affirmed by cutting to present day imagery in color displaying the magician performing to a much smaller crowd and having little success with his act.  His inability to attract audiences and perform efficiently leads to his dismissal from the theater and his subsequent traveling to perform at various venues throughout Europe.  Performing in the face of an ever changing audience, which is exemplified by a rock group whose lead singer does nothing more than grunt into a microphone and roll around on the ground, the magician seeks an audience at a party.  Despite having very few people pay attention to his tricks, the magician is able to impress a drunken Scotsman who invites him to perform at a pub in his hometown.  The town the magician visits is very rural and is celebrating the introduction of electricity on the same night as the magician's performance.  Given their rather mundane lives, the townsfolk become captivated with the magicians performance, particularly a bar girl named Alice, who sees the magician as a procurer of valuable items.  Infatuated with the magician, Alice sneaks onto the ferry with the magician who takes her under his wing out of what appears to be guilt.  Viewers are now introduced to the rather sad life of the magician who lives in a small one-bedroom apartment whose other tenants are also performers.  Alice, assuming that the magician can create items out of nothing, hints at desiring various clothing pieces, to which the magician abides out of fear of failing the girl's imagination.  Eventually Alice's demands become larger than the magicians ability to produce and he must sell himself to corporate exploitation in order to gain money.  Despite continuing to provide her with gifts, Alice decides to pursue a romance with a young man across the street.  Discovering their relationship, the magician leaves in despair and simply offers Alice a note that states, "magicians do not exist."  The magician, Alice, and even the viewers have come to realize that the small magic of the world to which they hold dear is simply an illusion and that once this is discovered they can do little but live a jaded life.

The Illusionist did a very interesting thing to me.  It caused me to question what constitutes comedy.  Prior to The Illusionist I found it quite simple to divide comedies into either slapstick low key comedy and philosophical high art dark comedy.  The Illusionist, however, is both of these comedy styles from beginning to end, never failing to cause the viewer to laugh and suffer simultaneously.  At first, I wanted to place the blame for this comedic gesture on French sensibility, but I found The Illusionist to exist as something far different from even Godard's most politically fueled comedy.  It seems as though Chomet, and to the same extent Tati, wanted viewers to laugh at the tragedy of human nature.  The film posits that reality sucks really really bad, but if you cannot laugh at it then living in the tragedy becomes unbearable.  This unbearable nature is shown through the clown character who attempts to commit suicide only to be stopped when Alice offers him a bowl of soup.  The clown, as the film implies, had lost his ability to laugh and it was in that moment that he almost lost his ability to live.  In fact, it is only the Scotsman whose character remains happy at the films closing, yet even his jovial nature is a direct result of alcohol.  I guess this is all really my personal ranting, but the film works for contemporary society, because economically speaking the world is terrible and Chomet is reminding us that laughing is the only way to deal with it, because if we cannot do that the crisis becomes unbearable.

I found The Illusionist to be far superior to Triplets of Belleville and I cannot recommend it enough.  I was fortunate enough to see it projected on film, but I am sure the blu-ray will garner a similar experience.