He Keeps Me In A Bubble, So I Swam Away From Home: Ponyo (2008)

Yesterday was the birthday of the great Japanese animation pioneer and director Hiyao Miyazaki.  While I had encountered much of his work prior to beginning this blog, he has been featured rather prominently here in the past few years, particularly when I was finally able to catch up with My Neighbor Totoro, a film agreed by many to be his masterpiece, as well as one of the greatest moments in animation.  While my personal preferences lean towards Howl's Moving Castle, all of his films succeed at an exceptional level, wherein others fail to even scrape the surface.  I have watched a lot of anime films, most are trash, many are decent, but few are exceptional.  Ponyo, Miyazaki's take on the classic Hans Christian Andersen tale The Little Mermaid is one such work of exceptional stature. Miyazaki's more contemporary work is noted by its reliance on incredibly crisp visuals that expand and exploit the latest technology in both two dimensional sketching and three dimensional rendering. Ponyo while no less stunning visually is a bit of a digression for the director as it involves him using very simple animation with an equally moving and fantastical effect.  While one could make a case for Miyazaki's films working on various levels regardless of the age of the viewer or the individual sensibilities of the person encountering the film, given the nature of this work pulling from the fairly tale nature of Andersen's work, it does take on a rather childlike sense of awe without being juxtaposed by an adult reality, which occurs very jarringly in My Neighbor Totoro and proves a through line for all of Howl's Moving Castle.  Ponyo is one of the many films to be upgraded to bluray by Studio Ghibli, now a subsidiary of Disney and it is absolutely stunning.  The kaleidoscopic nature of the film, doubled by its already magical setting, much of which resides underwater, is a draw to any person appreciative of true art.  With the onslaught of CGI-only animated films comes at audience these days, it is heartbreaking to realize that Miyazaki has all but retired from the field, fortunately, his adoration is well-documented and varied, affording him a point of awareness given to few directors, let alone animators.

Ponyo, as the title might suggest does focus on a character named Ponyo, by the way of a young boy named Sosuke who lives with his mother and father on a cliff in a small pier village, wherein most of the residents work at sea.  This includes, Sosuke's father who remains absent from the narrative for much of the film, much to the frustration of his mother, who spends a considerable amount of her own time working at the local retirement home.  Prior to leaving for another day at school, Sosuke discovers a small, unique looking goldfish in the shore next to his home, capturing it an placing it in a bucket of water near his house.  Panicked and in a rush to get to school, Sosuke brings the goldfish with him on his ride to work, his mother noting its gorgeous nature.  Deciding that he wants to keep the goldfish, he names it Ponyo and hides it in the bushes outside his nursery.  Ponyo, however, is not a simple goldfish, but is actually Brunhilde, one of the many fish children of Fujimoto and Granmamare two deities of the sea.  When Sosuke leaves Ponyo alone, she is retrieved by an infuriated Fujimoto who tells her that she has no business messing with humans.  Yet, in an attempt to help Sosuke, Ponyo consumed some of his blood, which causes Ponyo to take a semi-human form.  During her escape to return to Sosuke, Ponyo accidentally knocks a potion into the center of Fujimoto's underwater home, unleashing a wild storm that ravishes Sosuke's town.  During this storm, Ponyo arrives at the home much to Sosuke and his mother's surprise.  Nonetheless, she takes what she believes to be a young girl into their home and await news on the safety of Sosuke's father.  Sosuke's mother eventually leaves to check on the safety of the nursing home, only to have her remain away for a considerable length of time.  As such, Sosuke and Ponyo mount their own rescue mission, one that leads to the awareness of Ponyo's non-human status, all leading to a meeting with Fujimoto in his underwater lair, wherein he and Granmamare test the loyalty and love of Sosuke for Ponyo.  When it is verified much to the happiness of all involved the two are allowed to live together and in the same moment it is revealed that Sosuke's father has return safely from his dire time at sea.

There are many ways to talk about a film like Ponyo, one of which would be to consider its validity as an adaptation, which is solid, because it is Miyazaki.  There is also the narrative surrounding human identities and how to navigate understanding that which is performing humanism, but is not technically human.  This is a new research interest of mine and will certainly lead me to return to this film in my academic studies in the future, yet I do not want to take that route here.  Knowing that the familial component is key to many of Miyazaki's films, Howl's Moving Castle, From Up On Poppy Hill and The Secret World of Arrietty, I too want to extend it to consider the narrative of Ponyo.  I think that it is particularly a ripe discussion point in this film, because it is heavily invested in the absence of Sosuke's father, something that leads his mother to drink on at least one occasion.  It is not to suggest that Sosuke's father does not care, but that economic situations necessitate that he must remain detached from the familial space only to assure the safety of such a construct.  The catch-22 at play is rather blatant, but, nonetheless, indicative of the illogical nature of capitalist consumption and idealism that has rooted itself in an unusual way within Japan and was particularly intriguing in and around the time of this film.  As such, one can certainly read the character of Ponyo as the family's own anxiety regarding the possibility of a future child, one that is met with adoration by the young Sosuke, but with understandable hesitation by Sosuke's mother.  In the film, Sosuke says something along the lines of it being part of reality that she must accept and the absence of his father only makes it that much more of an internal struggle.  Little should be made of the love relationship between Sosuke and Ponyo, because it is not one of a romantic nature, but more so of kindred spirits.  Indeed, keeping this economic anxiety in mind, the scenes involving Ponyo consuming are quite interesting, Sosuke's mother now having to provide food (specifically ham) for more than one young mouth, other economic issues like the lack of candles too take on larger narrative elements.  By adding the fact that Sosuke's mother works at a nursing home, which is, for many, another layer of economic anxiety makes this possible reading of economic anxiety that much more fascinating.

Key Scene:  The scale and intensity of the storm scene, is a particularly dark moment in an otherwise vibrant film, but it plays out poetically and perhaps best evidences the magical realist elements so key to this era of Miyazaki's work.

This bluray is stunning, indeed, all the Studio Ghibli blurays are stunning.  If I were to mount any downside to this particular release, it is the lack of a Japanese audio track, but that is probably only bothersome to a handful of people.  As such, purchasing it is well worth your time.

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.

Reconsidering My Cinematic Childhood: 3 Ninjas (1992)

Due to time, I am starting a new segment on the blog, what follows will be a bit of an explanation/diatribe of sorts.  In the case of this post it will still fall within the kung fu marathon:

As I become more familiar with my use and presence on Letterboxd, I am decided that making really quirky lists is proving to be a great way of wasting my seemingly minimal amount of free time, but since it requires little effort and far less dedication that writing out a blog post, I justify the act in that it is still allowing me to consider film, even if in a wildly joking manner.  For example, I have a running list of films in titled "movies that make the 80's look like the coolest and grossest place to live simultaneously" which considers a breadth of movies from the era that are wildly over-the-top, but highly engaging, including wonderfully terrible movies like Miami Connection and more well-established classics that are still kind of awful, such as Top Gun.  Another list has come to my mind as a result of this kung fu marathon, when I watched 3 Ninjas.  The title for this Letterboxd list will be something along the lines of "movies from my childhood that have not aged well," because 3 Ninjas is certainly a prime example of this dilemma.  My brother and I used to repeatedly watch this film and hope to obtain the, what we thought at the time were, kabuki masks worn by the brothers.  Revisiting it for this marathon, made it rather apparent that it not only failed to maintain even the slightest degree of nostalgia that I have obtained for movies that are far from perfect, a work like Space Jam being perhaps the best example.  3 Ninjas cannot even maintain the aforementioned nostalgia factor because the movie is both very dated and indeed not even well made.  It is clearly a work that was rushed through production, evident through sporadic editing and filming that make the presence of stunt doubles so blatant and a narrative with the flimsiest of character arcs and an understanding of fashion that extends to about a solid three months of 1992.

This segment will involve me attempting to reflect on what I might have picked up on as a child that would have made me adore this movie and then I will juxtapose it with the reality, or new opinion I might have formed with a more matured cultural palette, as well as a much broader awareness of the art of cinema, both in function and theory.  First, I seem to recall being really fond of the films presence of the Japanese grandfather, played by Victor Wong.  Something about his sagely presence seemed hip and desirable.  Now, I realize how exploitative the figure was, as well as how stereotypical the figure proved to be, particularly in contrast to the whiteness of the kids around him.  In fact, assuming that he was supposed to be their grandfather, the possibility of the three children having any amount of Asian heritage seems genetically unlikely, thus leading to another point of reconsideration as I look back on this film.  When I was younger, I am certain that some of my joy in this film came from its brevity.  Clocking in at under an hour and thirty minutes, the film is paced at a frantic speed, jumping between scenes inexplicably and incorporating characters, none of which seem to go anywhere.  I am aware that this could have been a result of the producers demanding the filmmaker cut away scenes to make it watchable, for children, like myself at the time, whose attention spans would have popped off by the hour thirty marker.  Yet, what they chose to keep makes as little sense at what is clearly missing, as though whoever did get tasked with editing was doing so out of spite.  For the third consideration, I will get a bit Freudian and admit that one of the elements that might have drawn me to the film was the tenuous relationship between the father and sons, of absence and indifference.  Thematically it is something that still strikes a cord with me when executed brilliantly, as is the case with Puffy Chair, or to a lesser degree in The Great Santini.  Here, however, it is just done with little concern for the psychological effects or the nature of such a distancing relationship on a family structure.  Like the rest of the film it is dealt with hastily and unconvincingly.

As you can tell by this revisitation, I am less than thrilled about this film.  While I do not foresee this being a super frequent variant on the regular blog postings, it is something that I hope to try here and there.  Inclusions in the future are likely to be films like Small Soldiers, Gordy and A Walk to Remember, which I reacted to with great enjoyment at a younger, pre-cinephile age that might not hold up with a more critical lens.  However, on this quest, I do hope to occasionally find a work that has become even more profound with age, unfortunately, that was not the case with 3 Ninjas.

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.

I'll Be Shooting For My Own Hand: Brave (2012)

It is almost always a sure thing that a film by Disney will at the very least look amazing, and it is only a notion extended when one considers that the best work by the company is often released by Pixar, which is exceptionally spectacular.  However, what is much less assured is to what social commentaries the films may make, for example, Wall-E serves as a gorgeous piece of 3D animated film while also being a surprisingly scathing critique of all things leading our technological society to brainless reliance on machines.  In contrast is Tangled, one of the more cinematic Disney film, that draws upon some excellent references to old school Robin Hood movies, as well as also containing a significant female character.  Yet, Tangled, like so many of its predecessors manages to regress into heteronormativity by its closing moments never really allowing the revolutionary gender politics it seems so intent on setting up in the films opening moments.  Brave, a film from last year, seemed to continually emerge as this sort of enigmatic feminist statement directed at kids, via a Pixar film, although, the more I think about it, I would argue that Pixar aims the narrative elements of its films at adults, while offering sound visual elements to capture children.  Regardless, Brave is, much to my surprise, quite embracing of women's singularity and manages to make a considerable portion of the narrative center around this element, as one young girl struggles to reject gender commodifications and perform in a way that she finds comfortable and liberating, regardless of the expectations of tradition.  Brave is both a highly entertaining film, as well as one that keeps its narrative focus direct and socially advanced.  It was quite easy for me to become captured in the flora laden landscape of the film occupied by vibrant characters and some of the best human-based Pixar animation to date.  It is an incredibly fast-paced film that is perfect for young audiences, yet manages to pack a heavy set of gender reconsiderations into its world in the process.  While it is by no means a superior film to Frankenweenie, I can better understand now, after viewing, why this film has received such rave reviews, and, ultimately, and Oscar.

Brave focuses on the young life of Merida (Kelly MacDonald) a princess, in a Scottish clan whose love for archery and living in the outdoors has emerged directly from the tutelage of her father Fergus (Billy Connolly) a king whose leg was lost defending his family and clan from a deathly bear attack.  This emphasis on athleticism and outdoor activities is much maligned by her mother Elinor (Emma Thompson) who hopes that Merida will willingly align herself with history and give her hand to a suitor from a nearby clan as a means of assuring peace in the area.  While Fergus is quite lacking in his support of such a decision, he does realize its necessity to assure clan peace, therefore, falling in line with Elinor when she forces Merida to follow the orders and give her hand to who ever wins a contest. Even after Merida attempts to win her own hand in the competition, the fact proves that she must still get married.  In a last ditch moment of frustration,  Merida visits The Witch (Julie Walters) who agrees to provide Merida with an escape in exchange for a metal amulet.   The spell takes the form of a cake that Elinor is to eat, Merida thinking it will only cause her mother to change her mind gives it to her in excitement, yet when Elinor becomes sick almost immediately after consuming the food things take a serious turn.  The spell Merida has obtained causes her mother to change, not her mind, but physical form into that of a bear, of course, leading to her immediate danger when Fergus senses the presence of a bear within his castle.  Escaping from the castle with just enough time to spare, Merida and her mother seek The Witch to alter the spell, but she is nowhere to be found, instead leaving a riddle as to how to reverse the spell, before her mother becomes like Mor'duu another person whose selfish desires led him to being turned into a bear.  Yet, the persistent chase of Fergus leads to a showdown in a stonehenge-like battlefield, where Merida brings a fixed tapestry that she had damaged earlier in frustration against her mother.  Realizing the seriousness of the matter, Fergus steps back and, with Merida in tears, Elinor finally becomes a human again, the family reunited and the clans at ease.  The narrative ends with Merida embracing her role as princess, but with the full knowledge that she can choose to marry, or not to, at her own convenience.

While I am fully aware that it is not a particularly radical film in its portrayal of unconventional gender roles, Brave, as a piece of animated film, could have been much more heteronormative and still probably made a ton at the box office.  However, the deliberate choice, on the part of the collective of directors and writers to make Merida her own individual, even in the closing moments of the film is quite a powerful thing.  The film is about choosing a lifestyle that is both comforting and rewarding, as opposed to preordained and mandatory.  Merida loathes the idea of feminine beauty and constant beauty regiments, emphasized by her unkempt hair and her disdain when it is trapped within a headdress.  Elinor does not seem so opposed to Merida's personal pleasures and enjoyments because she assumes that it is unnatural or playing against her gender, but because she is fully aware of the political consequences of her daughters choice not to act the part.  It is a larger commentary on institutionalization, internalization and fear of working against an unrealistic notion of the ideal.  In fact, I would not even suggest that this film outright rejects femininity, because, after all, it is Merida's fixing of a tapestry that allows her mother to return to human form.  I am not suggesting that now, textile and tapestry work is uniquely feminine, but within the historical context of the film that would have certainly been the case, therefore, the narrative seems to open up its necessity.  With both commentaries existing against one another it seems to be a film that draws out the necessity of possessing both masculine and feminine qualities, without being forced to exist within one spectrum at one time.  Furthermore, Merida's existence by herself in the films closing moments say that gender is not predicated on finding an other to fifth the dichotomy, but can certainly be its own stand alone element and should be entirely the choice of the individual in question.

Key Scene:  The archery contest is fun and hearkens back to the old Robin Hood films of the thirties.

This is not a film I feel is absolutely worth owning, however, it is quite enjoyable and certainly worth renting.

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.

I Wish It Was Already Monday: Treeless Mountain (2008)

I have seen quite a few Korean movies since I decided to make it an area of focus in my Graduate studies, however, Treeless Mountain was one of those films that floated around in my queue, well before I made this transition nearly a year ago, specifically under my Netflix liking of low-budget, cerebral stories of everyday life...or some crazy combination of film tropes and genres that seems absurd, but, nonetheless, appropriately describes my tastes.  When I read the description for the film, the plot which I will expand on shortly, made me assume that the work would be unbearably graphic and intensely uncomfortable.  Yet, this is not from the same set of veins that so many controversial Korean films seem to set their roots within, it is very much an independent film about two young girls coming to grips with growing up entirely too quickly and losing all sense of their innocence in the process.  Of course, this loss is expanded upon in very metaphorical turns, often taking moments of serenity and dabbling with comforts of viewers not in the grotesque, but in the tragically real.  One could easily change the race of these children and the location and draw upon the same themes globally, particularly when set within a metropolitan discourse.  Treeless Mountain has all the heavy handedness of a Truffaut oriented children's film's closing moments, I am thinking particularly of Small Change, but it could work to some degree for a few of his other earlier works.  Not to discredit those marvelous works, but I find the beauty of Treeless Mountain to reside in its taking of a stance as its narrative being rough, tragic and sparse, without giving viewers the comfort of whimsy for the first hour and some odd change of the film.  This film exists as a perfect syncrinization of a pitch perfect story, daring cinematography and perhaps some of the best child acting seen in decades.  Treeless Mountain has introduced me to a new burgeoning segment of Korean cinema that I cannot wait to explore.  While I certainly understand director So Yong Kim's move to making movies in Hollywood, it is a bit of a let down to realize that he will not return to subject matter of the same latent gravitas and subtlety.

Treeless Mountain begins with a cold opening of sorts, we are given the film credits overlapped as a young Korean girl consumes all things education within a classroom, the girl Jin (He-yeon Kim) appears to also enjoy playing Pogs, although this game causes her to be late in picking up her younger sister Bin (Song-hee Kim) an action that leads to her caretaker being incredibly upset.  They wait anxiously for the return of their mother from work, only to witness her react to their excitement in a beleaguered state of indifference.  It is revealed that the neighbor can no longer afford, or perhaps cares to, watch Jin and Bin, forcing the mother to unload them on their aunt, whom they "affectionately" refer to as Big Aunt (Mi-hyang Kim), a cantankerous older woman who constantly dismisses their questions and concerns.  It is eventually revealed that Big Aunt suffers from an incredible troublesome drinking problem and only sees the two children as a deterrent from her boozing.  Realizing that in order to meet up with their mom again the two must fill their piggy bank full of coins as promised, they take up selling grilled grasshoppers, eventually making more than enough to fill the plastic pig.  However, despite their mother's promise the two wait patiently at the bus stop before realizing that she will not return.  Even after making a friend with a local boy who suffers from an apparent mental disorder, the two are not able to escape that they must rely on their Big Aunt whose most recent drunk stupor has lead her to become so frustrated with the girls, that she unloads them onto their grandparents farm.  While their grandfather is incredibly against the idea of them staying, the grandmother takes an instant liking to the two girls and is shown training them in the ways of farming, before the two walk along the country side singing a sweet song, completely forgetting the tragedy of being abandoned by their own mother.

Loss of innocence is certainly the central theme to Treeless Mountain, particularly in that Jin and Bin are forced to come to a realization that parents are not necessarily the pillars of perfectness that youth allows you to assume.  I remember coming to this realization rather lately in my life at say nineteen or so and having considerable trouble consuming the notion, it is even more tragic to realize that this certainly occurs not only within this film, but to many people this age on a daily basis.  Blame can be directed in a variety of places, one could claim the mother at fault for not properly controlling her life and the lives of those she birthed, one could attack the educational and political systems in the film for not taking note of the obvious home troubles.  Hell, an argument could even be made as to why a misplaced valuing of capitalist endeavors are the root of the children's lost innocence, yet, however, one reads it, the fact is that Jin and Bin are made to realize the harshness of existence quite early and quite intensely.  While it may seem like one of the lesser moments in the film, almost a throw away moment, when Jin initially impales a grasshopper with a stick, one can read that as the ultimate moment of lost innocence, particularly because it is such a inherently violent act, even if the justification is creating food for them at some points as well as a means for profits.  In one reading it would be easy to see this scene as Jin and Bin displacing their own violent subjection upon something smaller than themselves, ultimately, as a means of financial gain, certainly something their mother could be considered guilty of doing, even if she had initially good intentions.  In fact, it is not until they find their grandmothers love, and, more importantly, disconnect from capitalist desire that they are able to regain some youthful bliss, which results in them ambitiously providing their piggy bank to their grandmother to buy new shoes.

Key Scene:  There are a few soberingly real moments throughout the film that cause viewers to question how "ignorant" Jin is to the world she engages with, one, in particular, occurs when she is receiving a sticker from the mentally challenged friend they have recently met.

This is a spectacular piece of cinema, easily one of my new favorites from South Korea.  It is a gift to be able to see it on Watch Instantly, although I dream of an imminent  Bluray upgrade.

Being Normal Is Vastly Overrated: Halloweentown (1998)

I promised to give a vast study of horror films in my themed month for October and certainly intend to deliver on that promise, which helps to explain the next film on my tour, the 1998 Disney television movie Halloweentown, a pick by my girlfriend for the list and probably the biggest genre stretch on my list.  However, to say that it is a stretch is not an attempt to undermine the work in the slightest, there are moments in this film that I recall from my younger days as being genuinely scary and ones that could still be frightful to the right group of youngsters.  It was fun to revisit this film, as I only had fleeting memories of the plot and had no idea the film included the consummate Debbie Reynolds.  Of course the plot is a bit fractured, but one can expect such occurrences when, firstly the film is made for television and secondly it is directed towards a youth audience.  Many of the characters exist a plot devices and manage to have a very cursory place in the brief movie, only clocking in at a bit over eighty minutes.  The plot it does possess though is well-executed and contains some moments of comedic brilliance as well as a few genuine scares, all culminating in a great commentary on embracing ones uniqueness and accepting even against stalwart reasoning that some things are, in fact, magic.  Finally, the make-up and costuming in this film are stellar, particularly the various beasts and creatures shown throughout the film and one scene of exceptionally good stop motion animation.  It is probably going to be the only family friendly movie blogged about this month, and one of the few I have blogged about to date, but it is certainly a movie for persons of many age groups as its humor ranges from simple slapstick, to some clearly adult oriented humor.

The story in Halloweentown begins on Halloween, as should be little surprise as three kids look longingly at the festivities from inside their house.  The children include a young girl named Sophie (Emily Roeske), an incorrigible nerd named Dylan (Joey Zimmerman) and the oldest daughter and eccentric Marnie (Kimberly J. Brown).  Despite their constant pleas to partake in trick or treating, their mother Gwen, played by Judith Hoag (who is likely better known as April O'Neil in the live action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film), denies their request.  She feels adamantly that they will be somehow ruined by the events of such a day.  Viewers are uncertain as to her concerns, until it is realized with the entrance of their grandmother Aggie (Debbie Reynolds), that they are related to an ancient family of witches.  Despite Aggie's less than subtle hints at their unique nature, Gwen denies them the right to explore this alternative life, instead wishing for them to have a "normal" life, despite being without a father figure.  Upon overhearing her mother and grandmother argue about her right to be a witch, Marnie follows her grandmother to Halloweentown via a flying bus to another world, only to be joined by Dylan and Sophie who share an equal curiosity.  Upon landing the group attempts to find their grandmother, but not before running into Calabar (Robin Thomas) Halloweentown's mayor.  He aids them in transportation to their grandmother's house via a taxi ride from a wise cracking skeleton named Benny, voiced by Rino Romano.  It is at this point that the children discover that trouble is afoot in Halloweentown and their grandmother is attempting to stop its occurrence.  Followed hot on the tail by an irate Gwen, the children and grandmother end up in a theater where it is revealed that Calabar is behind the evil in the town, freezing all who disobey him.  In the process of confronting Calabar, Gwen and Aggie are frozen by a spell and the children are left to complete Aggie's spell, which requires obtaining ingredients such as the hair of a werewolf and the sweat of a ghost.  They succeed in doing so and finally get the means to confront Calabar, and with a little help from a town local the group beats him and everything is returned to normal, with a suggestion that the three children, despite their mother's original denial, will indeed be trained in the dark arts.

The movies commentary is rather simple, as it should be considering that it is essentially directed at children.  However, the lesson taught is a very important one, especially for young adults and children. Instead of simply being a horror/comedy family film, Halloweentown posits something much greater in its suggestion that one should embrace uniqueness even if certain groups in society claim it to be, in this case, demonic.  Gwen represents a troubled single mother who holds falsely onto an idea that somehow by denying her heritage and identity that her children will exist in a better world, when it is clear that her disconnect and denial are only bringing more questions up within her children and arguably raising them to be social outcasts, as an early reaction with some of Marnie's friends suggests.  Aggie, in a maternal, and somewhat ancestral sense, claims this heritage and struggles desperately to keep her grandchildren practicing long after her passing.  The film also embraces a feminist ideology in that many of the spells require a group of women to unite together to make it more powerful, made all the more pertinent in that these women are of different ages.  The brief film also tackles notions of beauty and friendship, as occurs between Marnie and Luke (Phillip Van Dyke) a "dashing" young boy in Halloweentown who takes a liking to Marine, only to betray her, in what viewers come to discover was a Devil's bargain with Calaber to make him look better.  Essentially, Halloweentown contains a series of life lessons for young viewers and even a few reminders to parents on embracing their familial identity and heritage, even if it is not the mainstream idea of normal.  If anything the film denies denial.

Key Scene:  The obtaining of ingredients montage is quite fun and probably the funniest moment in the film.

I want to tell everybody to go out and buy this film, but I know it is for only a select few, not to mention that it is unusually expensive for what it is and, furthermore, it seems to sell out quickly after being stocked, at least that is what happened repeatedly at the Target near my house.

You Have No Power Over Me: Labyrinth (1986)

I have tragically been unable to procure any blogs for what appears to be twenty plus days, although considering that I have been knee deep in moving for the past week I figure it is slightly excusable.  However, knowing that this rather lengthy break leaves a gap in my movie reviews I completely understand that in order to return to with a new blog that it needs to be something spectacular and in my opinion the 80's cult classic Labyrinth provides for the perfect return. A spectacle in the very sense of the term, this Jim Henson directed film is otherworldly without being so fantastical as to dismiss accessibility to those less inclined towards the fantasy genre. The combination of some masterful puppeteer work and what is simultaneously David Bowie's best and worst offering to music, Labyrinth manages to be very fun and at times bizarre.  I am fully aware of its lack of success upon initial release and could expound on the possibilities for days, however, that is unnecessary and I would be more inclined to simply celebrate its cult status and demand its immediate viewing to all those who have not seen its glorious absurdity.  A film like Labyrinth reminds me that not every big budget film to come out of the 80's is indeed terrible; in fact, many were quite enjoyable and stellar offering to the world of movies.

Labyrinth focuses on the experiences of one young girl named Sarah (Jennifer Connelly) who is at wits end with her indifferent father and stubborn stepmother that seems more concerned with making it to their various outings than spending time with her.  This problem is only exacerbated by their continual dumping of their youngest child Toby (Toby Froud) onto Sarah.  Constantly seeking solace in a fantasy world known as Labyrinth, Sarah utters words from the novel that are supposed to cause her younger brother to be kidnapped by goblins.  At first loving the silence, Sarah immediately regrets her decision and decides to check on her brother, who has disappeared.  In a panic, Sarah attempts to redact her decision, only to encounter Jareth (David Bowie), the king of the goblins.  He explains that Sarah will only see her brother again if she is able to successfully find the center of his labyrinth within thirteen hours.  Accepting her fate, Sarah quickly takes to the task of finding her brother within the madness of the labyrinth, along the way she encounters various creatures of fantastical proportions from a grouchy dwarf named Hoggle, to various logic puzzles and riddles, all intended to test her wits and maturity.  Fed up with her successes, Jareth intervenes on many occasions to throw obstacles in Sarah's way.  Ultimately, however, with the help of a new set of friends and a newly found inner power, Sarah defeats Jareth by accepting that she has no control over her and that she truly loves her brother and would do anything for his safety.  Sarah returns home safely and finds Toby fast asleep, she thinks fondly of her encounters with the various creatures of the Labyrinth only to discover that within her imagination that she can revisit each and everyone of them on countless occasions.

While the film is littered with surprisingly excellent special effects and a very large amount of song and dance numbers, particularly the somewhat awkward "Dance Magic" bit, it is possible to glean a series commentary out of the film.  Sarah represents a young woman who is attempting to traverse through the world with a headstrong sense of independence, one that is ridiculed by her step mom who thinks she should be more concerned with her dating life.  The labyrinth, and to some extent Jareth, represent a imaginative world of oppression, quite similar to the real world she exists within.  It is only when she displaces her anger on someone weaker than her that she realizes her mistakes and for this, she must seek redemption.  Along the way, Sarah evolves from a stubborn girl who simply runs in one direction until she is tired to a born leader who helps to defend a town from a goblin onslaught.  More importantly, however, Sarah learns both the value of companionship and loyalty through Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus, all theoretical extensions of her personality as well as independence from a patriarchal figure head, as is evident in Jareth (despite his rather androgynous appearance).  The puzzles within the film evolve from very literal ones, as is the case with her encounter with the traditional Knight and Knave dilemma to breaking from her own restraints of dreams involving bourgeois extravagances that adhere to heteronormative notions of male and female relationships.  Each encounter within the narrative could easily be read as Sarah attempting to encounter a ridiculous social rule head on.  Of course, it could all just be an anti-drug film, as is evident in the peach scene.

Key Scene: A certain scene invoking the work of M.C. Esher that I have dubbed Jareth's Lament.

This is a great piece of 80's film that has recently been upgraded to bluray.  While I fully intend to obtain a copy of the film, it is perfectly acceptable to simply rent it instead.

Damngoddit: Zazie Dans Le Metro (1960)

If one were to look at the collective works of Louis Malle it would be quite impossible to pinpoint a specific genre or thematic element between his works.  Sure some of the films deal with the issues of childhood loss of innocence, while others are clear studies of the dissipation of a flailing relationship.  However, each films within the directors oeuvre is so unique and fully realized that it is impossible to say with any certainty the directors ultimate concern as a filmmaker.  This is perhaps no more true than with his 1960 offering Zazie Dans Le Metro, which is about….well I am not exactly sure, but I know it involves an androgynous girl and her somewhat dandy of an Uncle’s traipse through Paris.  With that being said it is one of the most genius things I have seen on film in quite sometime and possibly my favorite viewing experience of the year, next only to my recent watching of Secret Sunshine.  Zazie Dans Le Metro is the textbook definition of a zany film and is clearly something that affected the work of directors like Terry Gilliam and Steven Soderbergh with its experimental composition and dialogical diversions.  Malle’s vision leaks off of the screen in Technicolor and is just as eye-popping as any 3D movie to date.  Quite simply, the movie is something to be viewed for explanations are only so helpful.

Zazie Dans Le Metro focuses on the experiences of Zazie (Catherine Demongeot) a wiley young girl who is unwillingly placed in the care of her “hesserosesual” Uncle Gabriel (Philippe Noiret) for a few days in Paris.  Desiring only to visit the city metro, Zazie is flabbergasted to discover that the railways have been shut down due to a strike amongst union members.  Enraged, Zazie acts out against the adults around her often calling them names and cursing in their presence, in some instances the adults ignore the young girl while in other moments they go out of their way to chastise her for breaking from social norms.  Disillusioned by the experience, Zazie is further baffled upon realizing that she is being pawned off on her Uncle Gabriel, simply because her mother desires to spend a torrid day with her lover, whom Zazie runs into multiple times throughout the film.  As such, Zazie begins to evade the watchful eye of her Uncle and wanders around Parisian locales that include stores, cafes and one of the most beautifully shot sequences of the Eiffel Tower in the history of cinema, hands down.  By the end of the film, Zazie has encountered a multitude of French citizens, each representing a problematic existence within the bustling metropolis that is Paris, and, instead of growing greatly from the experience, Zazie simply leaves still desiring to visit the metro.  

Malle’s film is about as satirical as a film can get, considering that the film uses irony, ridicule and about every other form of the comedic style to gets is point across.  No character within Zazie Dans Le Metro is treated in an optimistic manner, including the title character who is clearly a self-concerned brat that seeks her own needs above others throughout the film.  This is understandable though considering that Zazie’s mother too seeks her own carnal desires above the safety of her mother, something that is reinforced by their continual encounters with one another throughout the film, many of which find Zazie in dangerous situations whilst her mother ignores her for the sweet nothings of her rather sleazy lover.  Even Uncle Gabriel is chastised, considering that he is intended to be a gay character, Malle’s adapation plays up on all the stereotypes of homosexuals at the time only to have his actions overlooked by everyone in the narrative.  The film also steals from Tati with a heavy dose of slapstick to help make the characters that much more absurd to the viewer.  The greatest feat, however, is the cinematography which is incredibly varied and mesmerizing, because, despite being exceptionally well done, it manages to cast the characters in a ridiculous existence by causing the world around them to figuratively consume them.  This overpowering only adds to the satirical nature of the brilliant film.  Finally, like the best satire, Zazie Dans Le Metro has viewers laughing hysterically from beginning to end, despite making rather dark and disparaging comments about French society as it moved into the sixties.

Zazie Dans Le Metro is easily one of the best releases from Criterion in 2011 and is certainly worth picking up on bluray.

For That, I Need A Clean Shirt: The 400 Blows (1959)

Truffaut and Godard stand as the two geniuses of The French New Wave, something I am sure I mentioned during my old review of Jules and Jim.  I am constantly reminded upon viewing either of their earlier works about how brilliant both filmmakers were during their youth.  Their style and narrative format have become resonant in the world of cinema since their introduction and both deserve equal praise.  However, the more work I see from the two directors, the more I realize that the two work in completely different spectrum of filmmaking.  Godard was clearly concerned with expanding the conventions of cinema from a visual standpoint, while Truffaut found more in rethinking narrative normalcy.  Both excelled in their respective pursuits, we see this with Breathless and we certainly see this with The 400 Blows.  Truffaut's film on a very basic level is about a kid rebelling against his parents; however, it is something much larger than that and what unfolds is a piece of film that is profound, earnest and individually its own.  Alongside introducing the world to the cinematic figure that is Antoine Doinel, Truffaut's film reminds viewers that in order to love a movie the characters and their experiences need not be dramatic but instead beautifully simple.

As noted above, The 400 Blows focuses on the experiences of a young boy named Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Leaud) as he wanders aimlessly between home and school in an unspecified section of Paris.  Clearly, indifferent to authority figures, Doinel defies his schoolteachers and mother on countless occasions, brushing of their physical attacks and acidic remarks with little care or concern.  In fact, Doinel is lacks such a concern for socially accepted behavior that he foolishly agrees to skip school, catching his mother having an affair with another man in the process.  It is at this point that the young boy's life begins to deteriorate.  Doinel becomes a point of vilification to some of the students who see him as a bully, while he becomes the prime suspect for all wrongdoing both at home and at school.  Doinel's behavior and lack of respect become so egregious that he is kicked out of school and subsequently avoids returning home.  Saddened by the loss of her son, Doinel's mother agrees to be kinder to him upon his return home.  This promise only lasts temporarily when Doinel returns to his bad behavior quite quickly, causing his mother and stepfather to become so aggravated with the boy that they ship him off to a reformatory.  Once again, Doinel's wily ways result in him being punished regularly and quite violently by the headmasters.  During a game of soccer, Doinel, pushed to the edge, pretends to retrieve a ball only to begin running for escape from the reformatory.  After successfully evading those chasing him, Doinel is shown running along the ocean and as he reaches the coast, he stops to look into the camera.  This occurrence breaks the fourth wall, thus reminding viewers that the young boy's story is now theirs as well.

Perhaps the division between Godard and Truffaut is not entirely one of visual over narrative concerns.  I would also argue that their basic assumptions of what it means to portray reality on film are decidedly opposing.  For Godard reality is a series of fabricated moments in which individuals engage in their own self-interests and often interact with one another in very hostile, if not violent, ways.  While the world of Truffaut is certainly hostile, particularly in a work like Shoot The Piano Player, it can be argued that at least one character within each of his films desires to affect change.  It is clear that Doinel's rebellion is problematic; however, what he is rebelling against is certainly justifiable.  In the world of The 400 Blows children are to be obedient and unquestioning in their actions while adults possess free reign over everything.  However, Doinel understand the absurdity of such logic, which is finally solidified when he catches his mother in an act of infidelity, the consequences of which is an explosive realization that adult sensibilities are a lie.  Ultimately, Doinel's tale is one of a child becoming disillusioned at far too young of an age to affect change positively.  Although I have yet to see Truffaut's other films involving Doinel, I can imagine his character struggles with ethics throughout them, and who can blame him considering the lack of proper teaching directed at him.  It could be said that Truffaut's film criticizes French, particularly Parisian, society for their misguided attempts at social values and its over arching affects on youth.  Fortunately, Truffaut would go on to deal with this issue much more thoughtfully in Small Change, a film which reminds viewers that children are to be dealt with sternly and reminded of the tragic world they exist in, yet it is also important to foster their creativity and allow them to maintain a decent amount of imagination.

The 400 Blows is easily one of the most important films ever made.  It is referenced alongside films like Citizen Kane and Seven Samurai, and deservedly so.  Owning a copy should be obvious, particularly considering the recent Bluray upgrade from Criterion.

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.