Suspiria

Few films can hope to have the seismic impact that Dario Argento’s Suspiria had on release in 1977. Make no mistake - this is one of the essential cornerstones of the horror genre.

A few things led me to re-watch Argento’s horror cult classic. One, me and my partner were looking to soak in an atmospheric horror film for the evening. Two, it would present a chance to watch the brand new 4K remaster on the recently released Blu-Ray. And three, there’s a renewed buzz around the film in light of the recently released trailer for the upcoming, and surprisingly promising looking, American remake. Plus, it had been a while since I'd seen it and I was eager to enter its strange and illogical world once again.

Suspiria is fairly basic narrative-wise but makes up for it with impeccable technique

The plot of Suspiria is very simple. American ballerina Susy Bannion (Jessica Harper) travels to Freiberg, Germany to study at a very prestigious dance school. The whole atmosphere of the place seems very off, with the staff dealing with the recent murder of one its students in a fairly blasé way (they just upfront tell Susy, a brand new student, this fact just as she walks through the door). As the atmosphere builds and builds, Susy teams up with fellow student Sara (Stefania Casini) to solve the mystery of the strange happenings in the school and eventually discover (spoilers) it is run by a witch coven.

The plot of Suspiria is very basic but this is done to make room for other wider elements the film is toying with. Indeed, Suspiria is part of a larger body of Italian horror films that come under the term giallo. In general, (there's plenty discourse on this genre and loads of disagreements) these films have an unusual lack of a coherent narrative arc. Most will have a mystery story framing the narrative but this will soon descend into a general disregard for realism in terms of the acting and dialogue along with the film revelling in nonsensical plot elements and reveals. I would argue that Suspiria is not quite as out there as some of the films in this genre (Argento's follow-up, Inferno, takes these concepts into absolutely insane territory) but it is a good general example of all these concepts coming together to make for a successfully disorientating and horrific experience yet still be slightly approachable, thus making it a good entry way into the world of Italian horror.

Suspiria revels in the protracted murders of its victims

Few horror films look as stunning as Suspiria. In a genre not particularly renowned for its use of colour (outside of blood red), Argento’s bold use of primary colours is still unprecedented. Using film stock from the 1950s to achieve the effect, the film feels like a hallucinatory fever dream with the shifting colour scheme used to indicate changes in mood, tone and character emotion. One of the best descriptions of the film I have heard is that it's like Grimm’s Fairy Tales meets German Expressionistic masterpiece The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari in Technicolour. In this regard, the set-design is also immaculate, placing an emphasis on symmetry and retaining that almost fairy-tale-like quality. The dance school is just one of them iconic horror locations and is filled with loads of strange characters - the bossy instructor Miss Tanner, the weird maid-and-boy-servent duo, the giant servant Pavlo (who has recently acquired a new set of false of teeth) and the blind piano tutor being just some of the strange figures filling the place with character.

Oddly, I think the dubbing works really well. It is clearly dubbed (as was the case with most Italian exports at the time - there's a big history about Italian filmmaking in the 1960-70s about why and how films were dubbed but I won't get into it here) but I think the slightly stunted dialogue that doesn't quite match the lip movement of the actors gives the film just another added layer of being slightly off. The soundtrack by prog-rock band Goblin goes wonderfully in sync with all of this however, with the now iconic music etched into all audiences who have seen this film. The soundtrack is loud and fairly uncomfortable, with voices whispering and occasionally shouting over the music (including the words "witch" well before the reveal in Act Three).

The film's tagline boldly proclaimed that "The Only Thing More Terrifying Than The Last 12 Minutes of This Film Are The First 92" and for a 1970s audience, it's hard not to see how this lived up to such a claim. As part of the giallo genre trappings, Suspiria works on a nightmare-like logic. While most American horror films begin in a place of reality before descending into the madness and surreality of the situation, Suspiria and giallo already starts here. The audacious opening, in which we see in gruesome detail the murder of the student fleeing from the school when Susy arrives, is unforgettable in its grisly attention to detail (including a close up of the killer's knife entering the victim's heart) and the impeccable style of the proceedings. And there are few scenes in horror as toe-curlingly nasty as the maggot infestation scene. As the film progress, traditional narrative progression is thrown out of the window in favour of increasingly more audacious set-pieces culminating in Susy's encounter with the leader of the coven. And yes - magic exists in this world.

Quite possibly one of the most audacious openings to any horror film every made

It's hard not to consider, watching it now with a 21st century mind-set, if Suspiria is misogynist or not. With how the beautiful visuals depict brutal violence against women (not to mention some unfortunate comments from Argento himself on the subject of females) it has the potential to be quite troubling. However, Peter Sobczynski in his excellent retrospective article on the film, argues that, in the case of Suspiria, labelling it misogynist is too simple and ignores the numerous ways it is quietly progressive. He points out that the violence does indeed happen to women however all the men in the film are rendered as either strange or completely ineffectual. All the major roles in the film are played by women, they control the action and are the true sources of power (1). Susy herself feels like a prototype for the final girl archetype, paving the way for figures such as Jamie Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode in the following year's Halloween. Susy starts the film as a naive young girl finishing up her character arc by toppling the ancient evil woman controlling the dance school. Make of that what you will. I would argue it's not quite up to the standard we'd expect today in terms of representation but for the mid-70s, Suspiria was dealing in some quietly groundbreaking stuff (especially considering the slew of genuinely misogynistic video nasties awaiting release in the 1980s).

So, despite having a fairly basic narrative, Suspiria holds up really well 40 years after its release. It is a case of style over substance but in this instance the style is so good it almost forms a kind of substance in its place (if that makes any sense). What is a basic chilling mystery story about a witch coven becomes an excessive experience in impeccable filmmaking technique that manages to sustain a bizarre and horrific tone across the whole of its run time. Argento would use Suspiria as a launch point to a trilogy of films called The Three Mothers, with each part of the series dealing with a triumvirate of ancient and evil witches. His follow-up, Inferno, served as the second part of the trilogy and the recent final part, The Mothers of Tears, closed the series off. Needless to say though, Suspiria is still Argento at his best and is the premium example of 1970s giallo at its classiest.

Also, watch the recent 4K restoration if you can, either on Blu-Ray or on the big screen. It's a real treat seeing the film remastered and back to how it should have always looked.

References

(1) Peter Sobczynski, ""Do You Know Anything About Witches?" Suspiria at 40" https://www.rogerebert.com/balder-and-dash/do-you-know-anything-about-witches-suspiria-at-40 accessed 10/06/2018

Celeste

I have a slight admission to make: I was a little underwhelmed by Nintendo’s latest platforming masterpiece, Super Mario Odyssey. Don’t get me wrong - the game is a master class in game design, with some gorgeously colourful art design, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of been there, done that before. I decided to pick up Celeste, one of the many inventive indie games filling up the Nintendo Switch’s online store, and this has seemingly scratched my itch for a new and innovative platformer.

Celeste takes the best elements of games such as The Binding of Isaac and Super Meat Boy (the-trial-and-error-approach) with the branching level design of the very best of Nintendo (Super Metroid in particular springing to mind), along with its Mario sensibilities, to form a surprisingly thoughtful and highly addictive addition to the blooming indie market. You play as the red-haired protagonist Madeline, who is trying to reach the summit of the infamous Celeste Mountain. To overcome this, the player must guide Madeline through hundreds of different platform-filled rooms, containing various hazards such as spikes, sheer drops and the terrifying forces of nature. Madeline can jump, do a mid-air dash and can scale horizontal walls, though only for a limited amount of time before her stamina runs out. With no attacks in your arsenal, Celeste requires you to get to grips with its platforming shenanigans - fast.

Celeste is a breath of fresh air in the platforming genre

You are going to die a lot in Celeste. It took me a while to get used to its form of fast, zippy platforming, relying on a split second decisions, precise analog stick movement and some nifty understanding of the game mechanics. All this comes with practice and the more you play Celeste the more it begins to feel like a fighting or DDR game, just without the fighting or the dancing, as it relies on getting into the flow of the controls. The best thing the game does is let the player make errors. If you die in a room, you are simply teleported back to its beginning. Soon, you begin to learn and adapt to the environment of the game. Eventually, when you enter a new room, you start to strategise in your head the best course of action to take to tackle this new platforming-puzzle. The whole thing becomes second nature and fairly involving, with my body literally seizing up at some moments whilst I pulled off a tricky jump. It all really fell into place for me when I reached the end of Level 2, when I was tasked with running away from the embodiment of the dark reflection of Madeline. This was incredibly tough but oh-so satisfying when I managed to navigate the increasingly complex environment and perfectly dodging the attacks of my terrifying enemy. Each room and overall level presents new challenges and platforming-riddles to solve but always comes down to finding different ways of pushing your jumping skills to the test.

For those players who really want to push themselves, Celeste has plenty of branching paths in the level design, hidden rooms and illusive strawberries which offer extra points but require some serious skill to obtain. At first, these seem almost impossible to reach but as your skills refine over the course of the game, the strawberries present a tantalising reward for players who want to put their chops to the test. The game, to its credit, doesn’t judge players who want to take a step back from this extra bit of challenge though.

Celeste, unlike most platformers, has a rich tale to tell

The most surprising element to me was the increasingly tender and passionate story it tells, in particular for a genre not normally renowned for its story-telling. Protagonist Madeline is incredibly relatable as her journey up the mountain clearly has a deeper meaning for the often down trodden character. Madeline is riddled with depression, anxiety, unsure on what her future holds and suffers from panic attacks. Perhaps climbing the mountain, itself a gruelling feat, will provide her with some kind of recourse on how she should live her life. Along the way you meet some great characters, some just being funny asides while others reveal some surprisingly tragic backstories, my absolute favourite being the ghostly proprietor of an abandoned hotel. These character encounters are often as thrilling as the fast-paced platforming.

The overall design of the world is simply wonderful. While the sprite animations are simple and blocky, there is a fluidity to their movement that makes it feel like a retro-inspired game for the HD generation. Backgrounds and weather effects are beautifully realised and the colour design has a bright yet slightly melancholic feel. Dialogue with residents of the mountain are complete with charming and very expressive anime-inspired character art. I would be remiss without mentioning the incredible soundtrack as well. Going from the sweeping 16-bit inspired uplifting tracks in the early part of the game to the more subdued, piano-led score in the second half, composer Lena Raine has crafted a new classic video-game score. Even in the most downbeat of levels, the soundtrack keeps a constant sense of rhythm going to keep the player thinking about executing the perfectly timed jumps to reach the other end of the screen. It’s a gorgeously presented game and a testament to the designers.

So if you’re in the mood for an all together different kind of platformer, I can’t recommend Celeste enough. It took me a while to get used to its style of platforming but when the pieces fell into place, it was one of the most rewarding and endlessly fun platformer I’ve played in years. I can’t wait to see what this creative team have in store for us next. With its snowy-topped peaks, intense gameplay, rich story and the oh-so hummable soundtrack, Celeste is a game I will cherish for a long time to come.

Solo: A Star Wars Story



It took the allure of going to Nando's to get me to see Solo: A Star Wars Story.

So, it's only taken Disney 3 years to run Star Wars completely into the ground. Solo represents Disney's second attempt (after the thoroughly dull Rogue One) to prove that this franchise can work on the same level as its much-touted, and highly successful, inter-connected Marvel Cinematic Universe. However, Solo has been plagued by bad press from the very beginning of its inception. With Phil Lord and Chris Miller (of Lego Movie fame) originally attached to direct the film prospects looked good for a time, but then Lucasfilm fired them well into production due to that old problem of "creative differences" and hired the ultimate journeyman/by-the-books-filmmaker, Ron Howard, to reshoot some 70% of the film. With other rumours spiralling (including the hiring of an acting coach to help the young performers), the lack of advertising that failed to sell the premise, the divisive reaction to The Last Jedi (note: I still think it's great) and the general over-saturation of the brand, I can't say I'm surprised that this is the first Star Wars film to bomb at the box-office. But what is the actual film like?

Solo picks up with the titular character as a young man trapped on the shipbuilding world of Corellia. Han hatches a plan to escape with his lover Qi'ra (Emilia Clarke) from their life of petty crime (Bruce Springsteen style) through a convoluted scheme to steal a sample of a highly volatile, and precious, star-ship fuel called coaxium in exchange for passage on an outgoing transport. The plan goes horribly wrong and Qi'ra is captured by the authorities before she is able to board with Han. The young smuggler vows to return as a pilot and signs up with the Empire in order to fufill this dream; the long term goal being returning to Corellia to find and rescue Qi'ra. From here, we follow Han's trials and tribulations over the intervening years, first as a foot soldier for the Empire, then his plan to desert the army (with a little help from a newly befriended Wookiee named Chewbacca), to finally helping out a crew of smugglers, lead by the illusive Beckett (Woody Harrelson) who eventually takes Han under his wing.



Solo has a very shaky beginning that threatens its overall premises but manages to turn it around a fun second half



The problem is that this first half is a complete and utter mess tonally, thematically and as part of the overall film. Characters and plot lines that appear in the first half have little to no baring or consequence on the second half and I suspect that this is where most of the efforts of the re-shoots came from - to make it into the all-encompassing Solo prequel that Lucasfilm assumed the audience wanted and to throw in more fan service. There are some real groaners in here, such as why Han calls Chewbacca "Chewie" and why Han's last name is Solo. Because we've always wondered that. Basically, every possible thread from the original films about this character that could be expanded on is in the film is and some just land horribly. Alden Ehrenreich has the unenviable job of trying to emulate a young Harrison Ford and it's certainly a valiant effort on his part. It does lack some of Ford's rogueish charm but Ehrenreich has enough charisma to lead the film effectively.

When Han and company meet ruthless crime boss Dryden Vos (Paul Bettany) to gain their assignment to steal unrefined coaxium from the spice mines of Kessel and rush it across space through the now infamous run to a refining facility before the highly combustible stuff explodes, the film overall picks up. I suspect that this was the original version of the film's "lock-in" (i.e. the moment when the characters get their "assignment" for the duration of the film and traditionally occurs early in a narrative) however, in the Howard version, this comes well over an hour into the film and much of the damage has already been done. The surprise re-introduction of a character from the opening also really helps to shake up the status quo in what could have been a fairly tired and sexist trope.

Solo has an energised cast, largely helped by spirited performances from Ehrenreich, Glover, Clarke and Harrison



With the disastrous first half out of the way, all of a sudden Solo picks up the pace and becomes a fun, zippy (albeit basic) adventure film that revels in the Western influences that often go unappreciated in the wider discourse surrounding Star Wars. I was shocked to find myself coming round to the film, though only just about. With double and triple crosses, a fun set up for the famous Kessel run, well constructed action sequences, good character moments and an effective third act, Solo just about makes the landing. I also like how it moves into a morally ambigious area as the true nature of Vox's intent for the coaxium is revealed. Much of the fan service from the first half is dropped and I think I honestly would have preferred it if this second half was just expanded into a full film - just as I suspect was the original intent. "An Adventure with a young Han Solo" sounds more appealing to me as opposed to, as I said earlier, an all-encompassing tale about this character's life finishing up (in terms of his character arc) where A New Hope picks up. From this point onwards, the cast's acting chops really shine through, in particular Donald Glover as a young Lando. The only really lamentable aspect in the second half is a sassy robot side-kick, who can't help but feel like an odd reaction to some fan's (ah hum) accusations of Disney injecting "SJW" politics into Star Wars (I can't put enough commas around that hateful term).

Solo: A Star Wars Story is a big hot mess that suffers largely from a disastrous first half that ends up becoming the fun space opera Western it always should have been. When the film begins proper, Solo manages to be a lively time with some quite surprising twists and turns on the way towards its shockingly good small scale finale. I think there's a great film in Solo but the pacing and tonal issues severely damage the overall product, even as its prospects begin to shine. Overall, the cast do a good job at bringing energy to the story and I do give props to Ehrenreich for doing perhaps the most unenviable acting job imaginable - recreating the iconic and swaggering performance of Harrison Ford. The thing is, I think your mileage with Solo will depend on how interested you are in the lore and backstories of this universe. Even though I love the characters and (most) of the films, I'm not particularly bothered about the lore side (I prefer the "this is one part of a wider story that we don't get to see" approach) but I can admit that Solo ultimately becomes a good ol' time. Just.

If anything, it's certainly the best Star Wars prequel.



That said, it is funny to think that, that despite the rage from a certain (minor) part of the Star Wars fanbase who are very vocal in their hatred of the inclusion of """SJW""" politics into Star Wars, that the one that stars the ultimate white male power fantasy is the one that has bombed at the box-office .... go figure.

Mary & The Witch's Flower

Mary & The Witch's Flower came out of creative desperation. A desperation to keep the spirit of a defunct studio alive.

When Studio Ghibli closed its doors in 2014 with the retirement of Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata (it's kind of back now in name only for Miyazaki's upcoming supposed final film How Do You Live? - yes, he came out of retirement again) it left many of its young talent without work, especially when faced with the prospect of melding into the often creatively stifling world of modern anime production. So Hiromasa Yonebayashi, director of previous Ghibli hits such as Arrietty and When Marine Was There, along with several other key collaborators founded their own animation company - Studio Ponoc. And Mary & The Witch's Flower is the first fruit of their labour. My big question going in was "can Studio Ponoc do enough to distance themselves from Studio Ghibli to make their own distinctive mark?" While I don't think Mary & The Witch's Flower is quite that film, it is a valiant first effort with more than enough appeal to delight audiences of all ages.

Before I get on to answering that question in further detail my review, I want to get one thing out of the way - I ended up seeing the dubbed one. While there were plenty of Japanese language versions playing in and around Manchester throughout May, me and my partner had bookmarked to see the film at our local cinematic haven, The Savoy, at the end of the month. It was a bit of a gamble as to what version of the film they would be showing; it was advertised as a morning children's matinee performance across the recent Bank Holiday weekend (there were several couples without children at our screening, mind). So I shouldn't have been surprised that we ended up seeing the dubbed version. I say this now because I usually opt for the Japanese language version - nothing against dubs, a lot of hard work goes into them, but I prefer to get the authentic experience. There are exceptions to this of course (Howl's Moving Castle, I think, is vastly superior in English) and I didn't feel disappointed that we saw this version.

Mary & The Witch's Flower is a beautifully rendered and gentle film that sets Studio Ponoc up for great things

The great British summer holidays are rolling on and young Mary Smith is bored. She has moved to the country to live with her great-aunt in a grand old house and awaits the arrival of her parents and for school to start so she can make some new friends. Eager to help, Mary finds that she just keeps on getting in everyone's way. However, everything changes when Mary stumbles across the existence of magic that soon turns her world upside down. If you have been following Hiromasa Yonebayashi's works, this set-up should come as no surprise. All of his films are adapted from British children's novels (this particular film was based on The Little Broomstick by Mary Stewart) which also shines through in the films. Arrietty (Ghibli's take on The Borrowers) and When Marnie Was There all have very strong connections back to British literature, landscapes and the archetypal of characters that fill his world. As a British person, it is kind of interesting viewing how filmmakers from another country interpret our culture. Perhaps it's even ... huh ... appropriative... That aside, Yonebayashi crafts a beautifully intricate world that feels like a storybook come to life. It's in this aspect that the core of Ghibli is very much alive. Mary's new home is a gorgeous piece of design work, from the rolling green hills to the post-card perfect village to the creaking of the house she now find herself living in.

Mary as well is a brilliantly realised character. In fact, the filmmakers are so confident of this that she is the face of Studio Ponoc's logo! She feels like a wonderful amalgamation of previous Ghibli heroes rolled into one but with enough spark to make her stand on her own. Mary's English voice-actor, Ruby Barnhill (from Spielberg's adaptation of The BFG), is absolutely brilliant. Maintaining her Cheshire twang (she grew up in Knutsford), she adds a real sense of local character to Mary. She pouts and moans but can also be very funny, charming and intelligent. The range of emotions the character goes through is enough for many adult actors, especially if they are not trained in voice acting, but Barnhill manages to pull it off in a very emotionally effective way. I always think in loosely plotted films, such as Spirited Away, you need a clear emotional anchor to the story - a character who goes on a journey and changes because of it. Otherwise, it's just random nonsense. Ponoc clearly understood this lesson from one of Miyazaki's greatest films and imbues this into Mary and the overall narrative of the film.

In true Ghibli fashion, Mary follows a cat across the countryside into a mysterious forest where she discovers a broomstick and a strange plant called the Fly-By-Night. From here, it's an Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole kind of story as Mary is whisked into the sky via the magic of the plant bringing the broom back into animated life. She discovers a whole other magical world in another dimension, encountering the strange establishment of Endor College - a school of magic run by Madam Mumblechock and Doctor Dee. Just when you think the film is going to take a Harry Potter turn, Mary & The Witch's Flower turns into a cracking little mystery. In some ways, Mary & The Witch's Flower succeeds in areas of magic education where the young boy wizard's franchise often lagged. With the medium of animation, Mary goes pretty deep into some weird imagery and the visuals are lot more unbounded that a standard Potter story. Here is where the ex-Ghibli alumni really get to flex their creative muscle. Even if Mary's plot doesn't quite have heart of Howl or Spirited Away it just about matches their boundless creativity.

Armed with arreting visuals such as above, Mary & The Witch's Flower builds on Ghibli's foundation of stunning artistry

Mary & The Witch's Flower has an excellent cast and maintains dubbing company GKIDS' usual high standards. There are nice touches, such as the use of strong regional accents throughout, that help to keep the vaguely eccentric British atmosphere throughout the film. It was just nice to hear accents that weren't mostly London based, as is often the case with big budgeted anime dubs with a vaguely English setting. The actual performances are all great though out, it has to be said. Kate Winslet and Jim Broadbent are wonderfully over-the-top as the antagonists. Incidentally, I like how Ponoc are continuing Ghibli's penchant for creating flawed and mis-guided "villains" as opposed to straight up bad-guys. A particular delight is Ewen Bremner (i.e. Spud from Trainspotting) as Mr. Flanagan, a Mr. Tumnus-esque figure who, inadvertently guides and protects Mary on her travels around the world. There's plenty of hijinks, twists and turns to be had with the film and while some of the plot elements are clearly sign-posted, there's enough intrigue to keep you going. What really holds it together is the strength of Mary's character and how she reacts to the world and events around her.

Mary & The Witch's Flower is a lovely little adventure. With gorgeous animation, an engaging plot, sweet characters and enough of that old Ghibli magic, the film just about stands on its own. I think Ponoc have a long way to go and I hope they start to go in their own unique direction but there's enough good will and creativity to get Mary passed the dreaded label of "Ghibli-lite". Even if it can't quite hit the high-water mark of Ghibli's very best, there's enough heart and soul in this gorgeous and gentle film to make me think that the best is yet to come from this nascent studio. And long may they run.

Studio Ghibli: A Retrospective, Part Thirteen - My Neighbours The Yamadas

Side-Note : I started writing this article mere weeks before the death of its beloved director Isao Takahata. I am going to keep the text the same but I will be doing a little eulogy to him at the end. 

I think I've been a little bit too harsh to My Neighbours The Yamadas in the past. I mean, it's light, fluffy and was unfortunately released between two of the greatest films of all time, Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away. It's aimless, plotless, with no over-arcing theme and is basically just a series of vignettes. It is also way too long for this concept (clocking in at 105 minutes when 80 would have sufficed). It also has the barrier of the animation, seemingly being less sophisticated than other Ghibli films. However, despite all of this, I actually found myself oddly invested in this charming little film about the family life of a standard Japanese family, the Yamadas, on my second viewing. There's no great environmental message or magical whimsy - just a series of fun little shorts about this oddly likeable and well-defined family. 

Following a few years of silence after Pom Poko, Isao Takahata turned his hand to adapting the popular yonkoma (4-panel "gag" Japanese comics) series Nono-chan by Hisaichi Ishii. In a startling shift from the lovingly handcrafted worlds of previous Ghibli films, My Neighbours The Yamadas was to be the first completely digital production. This was done in an effort by Takahata to accurately re-create the style of watercolour paintings as opposed to the more traditional cel-style animation seen in previous Ghibli films. The result is a unique and gorgeously rendered film, though it was arguably mastered on Takahata's next film The Tale of the Princess Kaguya. 

So, how do I describe the plot of Yamadas when there basically isn't one? The film follows a traditional nuclear Japanese family. There is Father Yamada, Takashi, and Mother Yamada, Matsuko who fill the roles of office worker and house-wide respectively. They share their home with Matsuko's elderly mother Shige and have two children, a teenager named Noboru and a young girl called Nonoko. They also own a seemingly non-plussed dog called Pochi. The film is basically a series of vignettes, that occasionally go into the realms of metaphorical fantasy sequences, but are mostly grounded in a cartoony take on the "real-world". The shorts cover stories such as losing Nonoke in a department store, Takashi dealing with a loud group of bikers in the neighbourhood, Matsuko trying to make sushi, Shige contemplating what is little of her life is left or Noboru trying to get close to his dad. It's fairly wide-ranging and we get to see these characters in various and interesting scenarios, always returning to the humour at the centre of the film and the undying love the family have for each other. Many of the shorts are punctuated by haikus that poetically sum up the short, including ones from Basho, Buson and Santoka.

(l:r) Matsuko, Noboru, Takashi, Nonoko, Shige - the Yamadas

I think what holds Yamadas together, as opposed to being a formless mess, is the well-definied personalities of the characters. They're not ground-breaking in anyway and do fall into very traditional roles but their personalities are just ... lovely! Takashi is the over-worked dad, slightly divorced from the day-to-day life of the Yamada house-hold, but is ultimately something of a goof-ball who loves his family. Equally goofy is Matsuko, the put upon mother, who tends to day-dream and get lost in herself. Probably the most grounded is the very serious Noboru, the teenage son, who is going through big changes but is, when he lets his guard down, as equally daffy as the rest of his family. Nonoke is the cute foil to many of the family antics and has several funny punchlines to the family's antics. My favourite of the lot though is probably the grandma, Shige, who has a wicked and very wry sense of humour. 

I guess I can talk about some of my favourite stories in the film. "A Family Crisis" opens the film in a fun way, with the family accidentally leaving Nonoko behind at a local department store. The frustration and attempts to get back to the store quickly lead to some great humour though it becomes clear that Nonoko can pretty much take care of herself as she helps another lost child find his mother. It's cute and sets the tone for the film perfectly. "Father As Role Model" is a fun one, in which Takashi sees the first falling snow of the year and desperately tries to pull the family away from the TV to take a picture of them together. Another cute short, "Adolescence", sees Noboru trying to navigate his first relationship much to the interest of the female family members in the house. It ends with the lovely Basho haiku The scent of plums / On a mountain path / Suddenly dawn. "Art Is Brief, Life is Long", on the other hand, is a very solemn piece for the film, as Shige contemplates how long she has left, stating that the recently bloomed cherry-blossom trees might be that last that she gets to see. She visits a sick friend in hospital and at first seems very lively and talkative until Shige asks why she is in there and she just breaks down and cries. This is followed by the Basho haiku No sign of Death approach/In the cicadas voices and the vignette ends. I also love the one where Takashi encounters the local bike gang but I will discuss that later. 

While grounded in reality, to a degree, Yamadas makes use of fun metaphorical visuals to heighten the family life

I've heard some mixed reactions to the animation style but I'm actually very fond of it. I love collecting the Studio Ghibli art books and in particular I love the very early concept art Miyazkai and Takahata produce for their projects. These tend to be very sketchy and are painted using bold water paints. My Neighbour The Yamadas is this style basically brought to life in animation and I think it's very effective and quite versatile. The introduction to the film, where a family member reads a very rambling speech at Takashi and Matsuko's wedding, is metaphorically represented visually on screen, as the camera flies around moving from scene to scene. The sequence is brilliant. The metaphors throughout are fun and it also draws upon elements of Japanese art and culture - Matsuko and Takashi starting their married life together is represented as them starting a bobsled run; "navigating the sea of life" shows the couple on a stormy boat navigating the famous tsunami painting, The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai; the birth of Nonoke is played out in a similar fashion to the discovery of Kaguya in the bamboo thicket from the famous Japanese myth, just as some examples. I would argue that a sequence this ambitious, with the camera flying around and morphing from scene to scene would not be possible in traditional animation without time-consuming labour. 

The best thing that can be said about the legacy of My Neighbour The Yamada's animation technique is that it led to the stunning art design of Takahata's follow up film The Tale of The Princess Kaguya. The amazing line work and gorgeous watercolour palette was used to much greater effect in that film so, in retrospective, a slightly unambitious experiment to see how the technology works makes sense. I think this is put to greatest use in the best short of the film "The Fight For Justice", which involves a local biker gang making loud noise in the neighbourhood with the constant revving of their engines. It mostly plays out as light and fluffy, like the rest of the film, but there is one very odd scene where, to increase the tension, the chibi-style figures are rendered in realistic proportions. This is where Takashi confronts the biker gang outside his home. It's very effective and ever so slightly tense as the newly heightened sense of reality in the animation makes us a little scared for Takashi. However, it's not long before Matsuko and Shige come swooping in to save the day and the animation returns to the cute chibi style, effectively defusing the situation. 

As I said in the introduction, the film is overlong and out stays its welcome. Which is a shame because what I like in the film, I really like. The characters are well defined, the animation, water colour scheme and line work have an enormous charm to them and the individual stories, for the most part, are engaging. If you want to be sucked in by a great story, Yamadas is definitely not that film; it kind of just floats along in its own little world. I didn't think it will ever be anyone's favourite Ghibli film but it's still a pleasant little experience. For the longest time this looked like it was it for Takahata, with no new film until 2016's The Tale of the Princess Kaguya which, as mentioned above, used the same technology but to much greater artistic gain. Still, if you're in the right mood, My Neighbour The Yamadas is a lovely film to spend time with. As the film ends and the characters begin to sing Que Sera Sera and they start to float up into the sky using umbrellas, you realise that actually you have formed a close connection with them. Their simple trials and tribulations become fairly engrossing. It's a film I don't think about often but when I revisit it I like it a little bit more each time.

Quick thoughts on the dub - I don't really have any. It's been about 10 years since I've watched the dub and I don't have any strong opinions on it. Like Grave of the Fireflies, I think this one is so culturally specific to Japan, I think watching it in English is a bit of a disservice. It's got some big names, such as former SNL star Molly Shannon as Matsuko, famed voice actor Tress MacNeille as Shige and David Ogden Steirs as the narrator but I basically don't remember anything about the performances .. I'm sure it's ok.

Next time, Miyazaki returns with his most successful films and the one that would win him the Oscar for Best Animated Film thus gaining him and Ghibli new found international fame - it is, of course, Spirited Away.

And so I must address the elephant in the room. Soon after I began to write this article, I learned that Isao Takahata had passed away. Honestly, this news hit me like a ton of bricks. I have an unending respect and love for Takahata's works and all he did for animation. I will probably post a longer piece at the end of this process, perhaps as part of the Kaguya retrospective, so I will keep it short here. He was a brilliant director, a fantastic artist and a versatile story-teller. Not every one of his projects worked but it was his endeavour to try something different with each of his films that I respected the most about him. A massive talent who will be hugely missed.

R.I.P. Isao Takahata

Artist. Story-teller. Genius. 

1935-2018

Studio Ghibli: A Retrospective, Part Twelve - Princess Mononoke

Part of me wanting to write these Studio Ghibli retrospective articles was that they would present an opportunity to discuss some of my all-time favourite and most-beloved films. I stand by that Miyazaki is the greatest living filmmaker. And in 1997, he unleashed what can only be described as his magnum opus. Princess Mononoke. I'm getting shivers just writing the name of the film. It's that good.

So I've written extensively before about how Princess Mononoke tracked my whole experience of being a cinephile. I first saw the film when I was 13 or 14 and it left a huge impression on me. In fact, it was one of my earliest articles for this blog and the last one I wrote before going on a mini (read three years) hiatus. Then a couple of months ago, I declared it as my all time favourite film. So really, a lot has been leading up to writing about Princess Mononoke. Strap in because there's a lot to talk about ...

The production of Princess Mononoke can be traced all the way back to the 1970s, in which Miyazaki first sketched a princess wandering through the woods with a beast. The germ of the idea began to take shape when Miyazaki began sketching out the film in 1993 and began to produce the storyboards. Ultimately, this version of Princess Mononoke was very different to what was eventually released in 1997. After a long and exhausting war, a samurai gets lost in the forest but is helped by a giant wildcat - a mononoke. The mononoke saves the samurai but in exchange for his daughter's hand in marriage. Whilst some elements of this story were brought forward to the final product, such a Iron Town and an early battle scene, there is a distinct Beauty & The Beast meets My Neighbour Totoro vibe to it. A number of reasons led Miyazaki to abandon this version of the story - 1) It was too similar to My Neighbour Totoro in tone and style and 2) Miyazaki's world view was becoming much darker. I discussed in the Porco Rosso article how the Yugoslavia War helped to inform the tone of that film and similarly helped to shape Mononoke. Speaking to Empire Magazine, Miyazaki said that "after [the war], we couldn't go back and make a film like Kiki's Delivery Service. It felt like children were being born to this world without being blessed. How can we pretend to them that we're happy?" (1). Deciding that this vision was not in keeping with the current mood of the time, Miyazaki abaondoned the project. If you're at all interested, Viz Media released Miyazaki's outlines and drawings as a gorgeous storybook edition a couple of years ago, retaining his original pictures, entitled Princess Mononoke: The First Story.

To get his creative juices flowing again to get past his writer's block, Miyazaki agreed to do a first for the studio - design and animate a music video. On Your Mark is an under-discussed part of the Ghibli canon but it's quite an important one. It's fairly difficult to find but if you know where to look (any good anime streaming site should have it) you'll be track it down and it's well worth your time. The video was produced to accompany the then popular Japanese rock duo Chage & Aska (having sold 31 million albums and singles in Japan) and is basically a short film. The video is non-linear and tells the story of two policemen who infiltrate a religious cult and discover a winged girl, akin to an angel. She is quickly whisked away to a lab, so the duo decide to hatch a plan to rescue and release the girl. The song itself is ok but the accompanying video is nothing short of a masterpiece of its form. In four minutes, Miyazaki crams in an emotionally engaging story line with some great sci-fi world building (think Blade Runner meets Akira meets Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind). The video was widely praised for its brilliant animation and is actually an understated key turning point in how Ghibli formed its worlds - this is the first product they produced that made use of CGI. While still mostly hand-drawn, On Your Mark uses CGI to extend backgrounds and create a sense of motion not possible in 2D animation without incredibly time consuming, and costly, labour. The techniques learned here would be used directly in Princess Mononoke and pretty much all future Miyazaki productions (until the back-to-basics Ponyo). In any case, if you can hunt the video for On Your Mark down, it is well worth it. It's about as perfect a short film as you can hope for. With his writer's block sorted, Miyazaki was ready to embark on the journey to creating the most financially successful film ever released in Japan at the time.

The original concept for Princess Mononoke took a drastically different tone and narrative route

On Your Mark is an underrated and often forgotten piece of Ghibli history

As Princess Mononoke began to take shape it soon became clear that this was the single most ambitious project the studio had ever taken on. With a massive ballooning budget, Princess Mononoke produced a staggering 144,000 individual cels that make up its 130 minutes running time, with Miyazaki personally correcting or re-drawing 80,000 or them. But it was more than just the massive budget and huge time consuming process of animating it. Princess Mononoke was quickly morphing into the darkest and most challenging story Miyazaki had ever tackled. Compared to the director's previous works, the more serious and adult tone of Princess Mononoke was a direct reaction to the atrocities of the Yugoslavian War, as mentioned earlier. While initially unsure if children should see the film, Miyazaki eventually came round to the idea that is was important for them to see this one. While Totoro and Kiki dealt in large part of themes of growing up, Princess Mononoke is much grander in scale with its concerns - the environment, tradition vs. progress, life etc. These elements have been present in Miyazaki's previous films but are fully explored at the forefront of the text in Princess Mononoke. Yet it never feels weighty or self-important - it just feels like an ancient tale you might have heard a long time ago.

Princess Mononoke doesn't spend a long time getting us sucked into its violent and dark world, set in feudal Japan. While on patrol around his village, Prince Ashitaka must defend his homestead from a furious rampaging boar-god covered in an off-putting and sickly corrupting mess of tentacles and goo. And it is absolutely thrilling. The perfect way to open a film. This disgusting mess soon envelops Ashitaka's arm, leaving behind a visible dark mark that is slowly creeping up his body. After defeating the beast and speaking to the local soothsayer, Ashitaka's prospects look grim. The only clue to how the beast came into being and where it came from comes in the form a bullet lodged in its side, which is traceable back to an iron town making a name for itself far to the west. The young prince takes it on himself to leave the village and find answers as to why the boar became so enraged in the first place and perhaps find a cure to his curse. "To see with eyes unclouded", the ancient soothsayer says. And already we're in the realms of iconic scenes. Ashitaka cutting his hair in front of the village elders, a Japanese way of saying "I am dead to you" is a culturally powerful and beautiful send off as our hero begins his quest. And that's the first major point I want to make about why I love this film - the culturl specificities. This is a story so intrinsically Japanese in the way it channels tradition, history, spirituality and culture.

Under the cover of darkness, Ashitaka begins his journey to the West as we the audience take in the gorgeously painted vistas and the soaring Joe Hisaishi musical score (the soundtrack is absolutely phenomenal by-the-by). However, we soon find that this world is the not usual Miyazaki fare. For the world of Princess Mononoke is cruel, violent and ruthless. Ashitaka's first encounter finds him in a middle of raid on a small village, as blood-thirsty bandits move in to pillage the citizens in a scene which easily could have been lifted from a Lone Wolf and Cub film. The scene is complete with Ashitaka, armed with an increased strength gifted by his curse, severing heads and arms off the bandits. Definitely not the stuff of the gentle worlds of Totoro and Kiki. The wide-spread violence of Princess Mononoke is a definite reflection of the hardening world view of Miyazaki in the face of contemporary genocides and massacres. The hero in a Miyazaki film is now a murderer and works as part of the film's general moral ambiguity towards it characters. None of the characters are painted as villains, just confused people trying to do their best to protect whatever little ground they have found in life. This can easily be seen in Jigo, the travelling monk, who befriends Ashitaka following an incident where the young warrior shined a gold piece in the face of a stunned shop owner in the next village over. He is a weary reflection of the traditions of the old Japan reflected in this character which turns into a vindictiveness as the film goes on. I would even lobby the same ambiguity to Ashitaka. I would argue that in the beginning of the film his actions are purely driven by a need to lift the curse, until he throws himself into the centre of the conflict between Lady Eboshi and the forest (more on that later) and realises he is part of something bigger.

Incidentally, I love the scene where the two share rice soup, setting up camp in the middle of a deserted village. There's a real ominous and other worldly aura to the scene which sets up nicely what is to happen next.

As Ashitaka's journey continues, he soon discovers some distressed men from a local iron mining town (which might be where the bullet came from), who have suffered terrible wounds in a recent encounter with the local wolf pack and the mysterious Princess Mononoke. With his interest peaked by the iron town and his need to help the men, Ashitaka begins to lead them through the a forest inhabited by the kodamas, cute woodland spirits that seem to terrify at least one of the close-minded iron town workers. The kodamas help to guide the group through the forest, until they come to a clearing off the bank of a river. Here Ashitaka spies the infamous wolf pack and their adopted human daughter, Princess Mononoke, who we later learn is called San. San serves as the crux of the whole inner conflict of the film. Discovered by the giant wolf Moro and her cubs as an abandoned baby, San was raised as a wolf (not dissimilar to Mowgli) and as such has lost touch with her human side. We are first introduced to San sucking the blood out of an injured Moro. The blood smeared over her face being a key indicator of her ferality and how far she has distanced herself from her own kind. It is probably one of the most iconic introductions to a character in the history of animation. San is a wonderful character, who learns to reconnect with her human side across the course of the film and one of the all-time great female protagonists of animation, instantly iconic and powerful.

The oddly quite cute kodomas became instantly iconic characters 

San instantly became one of the most iconic characters in animation

Following this encounter, Ashitaka eventually makes it the iron town. The townsfolk seem to friendly enough, with a strong female presence working the forges in a time when this was not expected of them. Ashitaka soon begins to form a picture of how this Iron Town took advantage of its location (an island in the middle of a lake surrounded by the forest) and forged its fortune. However, we learns from a local village that they recently burned a significant part of the forest and drove out the local boar god, shooting it with their newly acquired guns from China. Putting two and two together, Ashitaka correctly concludes that the boar that ravaged his village and cursed him was sent into a fit of blind rage following him being gravely wounded by these guns. Ashitaka storms to meet the leader of the town, Lady Eboshi.

So we come to Lady Eboshi, ruler of the town and one of the most nuanced and interesting "antagonists" in film, or even fiction in general. You see, like Ashitaka and San, Lady Eboshi is not a bad person. She is ambitious, clever and fearsome, in a time when women were expected to be none of these things. She forged an incredibly rich and successful mining town with some fairly progressive values that gives work to some of the most underprivileged in feudal Japan. Low-lives, former prostitutes, leapers etc. - basically, people viewed as human trash in built-up towns and settlements. Lady Eboshi takes them, gives them a job and a purpose. She puts the women to working the bellows, stoking the fires to keep Iron Town running. Yet, for her many strong values, Lady Eboshi is also a destructive force, with little to no regard for the ecological and spiritual impact on the landscape around her. While she believes in the existence of spirits, her developing plan of effectively killing and decapitating the local Forest God (the ultimate way of showing there is no force that can stop her) is a clear sign that she fears neither traditional values such as state and God. Indeed, in his first encounter with Lady Eboshi, Ashitaka almost strikes the leader down in a fit of fury brought on by his curse. However, until she tries to behead the Forest God, I don't think there's a vindictiveness to her. She is merely trying to forge the best possible lives for the community that surrounds her and no shogunate army or forest spirit is going to stop her.

Lady Eboshi - one of the all time great characters of fiction

The first act reaches its climax as San infiltrates Iron Town with the intention of killing Lady Eboshi for all her indiscretions against the forest. This is really where the film's central themes begin to blossom. It becomes clear that Princess Mononoke is a story dealing with environmentalism and spirituality. Indeed, the central conflict of the film, advancement (Iron Town) and tradition (the Forest), seem to reckon with these very concepts, each threatening to upend the other. On the one hand, Lady Eboshi's Iron Town is a very progressive society, forged through hard work and unending human desire to live, but this comes at the cost of the natural world and further political machinations. Indeed, Lady Eboshi's expansionist policies have brought her into direct conflict with the local lords of the region, leading a small-scale war. On the other hand, the characters of the Forest represent tradition and it is important that this be kept alive. Most people view Princess Mononoke, myself included, as a sneaky remake of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. While I am very fond of Nausicaa, I do think it paints the conflict as too black-and-white. The silly humans just need to learn their lesson that you don't mess around with nature. The ultimate disaster at the end of Princess Mononoke comes from humans trying to play God but I would also argue that the wolves and various other animals spirits of the Forest don't help themselves in being unwilling to work with the humans to achieve ultimate balance. Thus, Ashitaka represents a force willing to jump in and find some kind of middle ground, interrupting and stopping the fight between San and Lady Eboshi. Ashitaka, seeing what hatred from both sides can bring, now seeks to find a middle ground - where Iron Town and the Forest, advancement and tradition, reality and spirituality, can find some kind of balance.

Anyway, following the conflict in Iron Town, Ashitaka is brought to the centre of the Forest by San, Moro (San's foster mother) and the other wolves following a grave injury incurred in the conflict and he essentially dies. However, the God of the Forest arrives to breathe life back into the young warrior in a truly powerful and beautiful scene. The Forest God is just a perfect piece of design work. We see in the film two versions of this creature. One is a strange and giant globular mass and another is the iconic deer like creature for when he needs to interact in the material world. The character never has any sound-effects associated with it and has a very limited amount of facial animation. Something that I only picked up on a second viewing was the subtle coding of the aura of the God. With every step he takes new flowers and plant life bloom but as soon as he step away, this new life quickly wilts and dies. The Forest Spirit can just as easily take life as he can give it. Again, it is that central conflict between two worlds that defines the narrative and thematic arc of Princess Mononoke.

The Forest God is a perfect piece of design, at once peaceful, yet also other-worldy and mildly off-putting

From here, we go from classic scene to classic scene. San nursing Ashitaka back to full health by chewing his food for him is a beautiful scene and works to bring the two of them together (with them eventually falling in love). Jigo also gets re-introduced into the film and is revealed to be an agent of the government, seeking to kill the Forest God and return its head to the Emperor of Japan (believing it gifts immortality). Jigo is revealed to be a much more sinister character than they way he is set up earlier in the film and, I would argue, is closet the film gets to a real antagonist. Essentially, Lady Eboshi has been dogged on to kill the Forest God, the ultimate representative of the natural world in the film, by Jigo who has taken advantage of her dominating personality.Their encounter with the angry boar tribe, seeking retribution for the death of their leader in the opening of the film, is thrilling and kind of morbid, especially when the new leader (the blind Okkoto) gets in involved. This leads to their traumatic assault on Iron Town as they run straight into a trap killing most of the army and is probably one of most harrowing scenes Miyazaki ever committed to film. Then there's the blooming relationship between Ashitaka and San. I love the scene where Moro berates Ashitaka for thinking he can connect with San's human side. Also, just this bit of animation of Moro laughing is fantastic.

If I have one slight criticism of Princess Mononoke (and it is very slight), I do think the second act gets a little formless but it does all pay off because the scenes are fantastic and it leads into one of the best third acts I think of in a film. There's plenty to discuss, and loads of scenes I wish I could go into from this section, but this article is long enough now and I wanted to give a broad overview of my favourite aspects of the film.

The film then begins to reach its dramatic conclusion. Following the destruction of the boar clan, San attempts to lead Okkoto back to the Forest God (being a few of the only survivors) in the hope that the Forest God can heal the boar god's wounds. However, following a nasty trick by Jigo and his hunters, Okkoto soon succumbs to same rage that consumed his predecessor. The Forest God eventually appears and gifts Okkoto with a peaceful death. However, Lady Eboshi and Jigo (in hiding in the central grove) use this as the opportunity to kill the Forest God.

So, Lady Eboshi has blown the head of the Forest God. And soon things take a really bad turn. The whole forest begins to decay as the kodamas begin to die along with the rest of the forest, their eerie bodies floating down like a snowflake. The colour palette changes to a gross brown/purple as it appears as if the whole world is dying and a black amophorous mass begins to sprout from the body of the dead Forest God.  It soon becomes clear that this mass is looking for its head. Our characters scramble to try and avoid the now expanding mass, desperately trying to escape this bizarre phenomena. Even crazier, the severed head of Moro (on the brink of death in the previous scene) seemingly comes back to life and bites off Lady Eboshi's arm (echoing a sentiment the character says earlier in the film "cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to bite"). With Hisaishi's strange off-kilter soundtrack and the over-worldy animation, this is just a truly unforgettable sequence. The forest has been destroyed and all hope seems to be lost. Ashitaka ultimately concludes that the only way to stop this thing is to return the head to the now formless mass spreading across the forest. Ashitaka and San work to reach the highest summit of the landscape and declare that they are returning the head. And this is the really beautiful element. It takes two broken people from both sides of the conflict coming together to resolve the crisis. And the music cue that swells as Ashitaka and San hold the head up just gives me the biggest goosebumps. This is honestly one of my favourite conclusions to any film. The head is returned and a huge rumbling rips across the landscape, the scene fading to white.

The Forest begins to die in the face of the loss of the Forest God

Balance, ultimately, becomes the key. Progress needs to go hand-in-hand with preservation with a mutual respect toward each other. San and Ashitaka awake to find that the destroyed countryside has been revitalised. The grass and the flowers re-grow in front of our eyes as greenery returns to the landscape. And Joe Hisaishi's gorgeous piano motif kicks and the goosebumps just run up my spine. San and Ashitaka, whilst forming an unbreakable bond, admit that it would be difficult for them to co-exist together. San commits to looking after the forest and Ashitaka will help the remainders of Iron Town to re-grow. Lady Eboshi, sitting with what is left with the community she forged in the green ruins of Iron Town, promises to carry out a more sustainable settlement, one that keeps in mind the needs of the forest. And as the final shot, we return to the forest as one of the kodamas returns. Life must continue. Live. Fade to black.

Live.

Princess Mononoke's release in Japan in 1997 was unprecendated. The film received rapturous applause, critical praise and audience adoration. It quickly became the most financially successful film of all time in Japan, until the release of James Cameron's Titanic a few months later. Princess Mononoke eventually won the Japanese Academy Award for Best Picture, being the first animated film to do so. The film was also submitted by Japan to the US Academy Awards as their selection for Best Foreign Language Film, but alas was not picked up.

If you haven't gather yet, I think Princess Mononoke is a phenomenal film. Every single frame is a gorgeous work of art. The characters are all brilliant, wonderfully fleshed out and doesn't shy away from presenting them as morally ambiguous. It is such a rich film that demands to be watched several times. It's the only way to take in the full beauty and majesty of Miyazaki's accomplishment. More for animation, it is proof that the art form can be more then funny animals and singing princesses (not that there's anything wrong with this, of course). For many, it is a special film - one that launched hundreds of thousands of anime fans and film lovers worldwide. Princess Mononoke is just as sophisticated as some of the works of the all time great films. It is a giant to be reckoned with and is almost a perfect film.

And then there's the dub, which is well worth exploring. Princess Mononoke has the distinction of being the first Ghibli film to get a wide release English dub with a very impressive cast. Bought up by the now infamous Harvey Weinstein as part of Disney's subsidiary company Miramax (now defunct), the now disgraced producer met with Miyazaki to discuss a wide North American release of the film. Weinstein demanded several cuts be made to the film, reportedly to reduce some of the more violent scenes. Following the meeting, Studio Ghibli producer Toshio Suzuki sent Weinstein a katana blade in the post with a note attached to it - "No Cuts". Thus, a new film legend was born and Princess Mononoke was released on a very limited run in 1999, to a small box-office return.

Adapting a script from a foreign language to English is hard. It's more than just translating word for word what the original script says. Things that make sense in the context of the Japanese language can be lost when translating to English. Then it's keeping the original author's intention whilst trying to fit that into enough syllables to match the pre-rendered character mouth movements. It's a tricky job, definitely, but Mononoke's English script and dub largely pulls this off perfectly, with a dub cast that almost matches the original. The masterstroke here though was hiring fantasy author Neil Gaiman to adapt the script. Gaiman, as an author, has a real love of exploring ancient myths and legends and reinterpreting them in a modern setting (see American Gods or his wonderful collaboration with Terry Pratchett Good Omens, where, similar to Princess Mononoke just Westernised, figures of Biblical literature interact in the human world). Princess Mononoke draws upon numerous sources of Japanese lore to create a stylised version of its past where myths about gods and spirits interact in a vaguely familiar historical setting. I almost view is as similar to Tolkien and The Lord of the Rings, who imagined his own pre-history fantasy world to explain how we got to where we are now. So, Gaiman is the absolute perfect writer to adapt a script - an author with a proven track record of understanding the importance of myths and legends. He had the unenviable job of finding English words that matched the intention of the original Japanese - the shishigami became Forest Spirits, as an example. The rationale for this being there simply is no word in English that can convey the original meaning of shishigami, so Forest Spirit it is.

Anyway, you probably want to here more about my thoughts on the English cast as opposed to rambling about the intricacies of translating from Japanese to English. Overall, this is an excellent dub - truly excellent. Billy Crudup is pitch perfect as Ashitaka. Clare Danes is brilliant and feral as San. Minnie Driver is pitch perfect as Lady Eboshi, understanding the moral complexity of the character. Billy Bob Thornton channels his conferential persona into a quiet and fairly subtle performance as Jigo.

An interesting change in the dub is how they handle Moro. In Japan, it is quite normal for a male to a voice a female character - just one of them culturally specific things. So when San's mother Moro speaks with a male voice in the Japanese dub, it's quite appropriate and not surprising. To an English viewer though, this can be somewhat perplexing. Quite wisely in my opinion, they decided to use a female voice for Moro in the English dub, employing Gillian Anderson in a brilliant take on the character. You could go on about how this isn't in keeping with the original author's intent but remember - dubs are adapting the script and performances from Japanese to English to suit the English-speaking audience who is going to see it and sometimes that does mean losing some of the original culturally specific details. There are several example of this in Princess Mononoke - Jigo complains that a bowl of rice tastes like "water", which is a cutting remark in Japanese but doesn't have the same bite in English - thus the rice tastes like "donkey piss" in the dub. Another interesting cultural change is Kaya, briefly seen in the opening of the film. In the dub she is Ashitaka's sister however in the original dub she is Ashitaka's bride-to-be (not blood related!). See, Kaya calls Ashitaka anisama which can mean brother but can also mean follower, simply by the fact that they live in the same village. To avoid this potential minefield, Gaiman changes it so Kaya is simply just Ashitaka's sister. Outside of Mononoke, a good example I like to use is in Kiki's Delivery Service. When Kiki first goes to the bakery and enjoys a warm drink with Asano, the Japanese script is clearly kohi - coffee. Now I don't know how Japan views this but it's somewhat inappropriate to give a child coffee in the West. Thus, the dub changes it to hot chocolate, which is a bit more age appropriate. Even the English subtitles on the Japanese version keep this as hot chocolate! Most of the time, two scripts are made for anime dubs - one, more accurate one to go along with the Japanese version and another which is just a standard set to match what the English dialogue is. Remember that English dub scripts have to morph the meaning to match the movement of the pre-rendered character mouth movements, so a more accurate English translation is presented to go along with the Japanese presentation. So even retaining "hot chocolate" on this set is an interesting little detail in key cultural differences. If you learn anything from this it's that dubs are adaptations not direct translations.

References

(1) "Miyazaki on Miyazaki: The Animation Genius On His Movies" https://www.empireonline.com/movies/features/hayao-miyazaki/ (accessed 17/03/2018)