In This Corner of the World [2016] – A Gorgeously Rendered Ground-Level Perspective of Wartime Japan

Sunao Katabuchi’s crowd-funded third anime feature In This Corner of the World [‘Kono Sekai no Katasumi ni’, 2016] is set at Kure, a thriving port city in Hiroshima prefecture during the wartime Japan of 1930s and 1940s. It brings a vivid, ground-level picturization of the devastation inflicted upon the innocent civilians by the bombing Allied forces and willfully ignorant Japanese Empire. The Japanese home-front struggle, of course, had been covered thoroughly by historical documents and books. Yet nothing beats the experience of watching familiar history through refreshing and humane pair of eyes. In this manner, the anime would be fine companion piece to eye-opening and genuine tear-jerking dramas Grave of the Fireflies (1988) and Giovanni’s Island (2014).

Based on Fumiyo Kono’s acclaimed manga, In This Corner of the World unfurls from the point of view of an imaginative young woman Suzu. The manga is clearly for adults and surely has the clear-eyed perception of serious literature. Director Sunao Katabuchi has worked as an assistant director for Hayao Miyazaki (in Kiki’s Delivery Service). His first anime feature Princess Arete (2001) was a typical fairy-tale riddled with feminist themes. Mai Mai Miracle (2009), the 2^nd feature, was thematically closer to Katabuchi’s recent film as it is set in the Japanese countryside of 1950s. Mr. Katabuchi has also directed the adaptation of violent manga series Black Lagoon (2006). While Makato Shinkai’s sci-fi fantasy and coming-of-age tale Your Name was a huge block-buster hit at Japanese box-office, thanks to the nation’s teenagers, In This Corner of the World proved to be a sleeper-hit, attracting majority of elder viewers.

Set between the years 1933 and 1945, the anime follows the domestic challenges faced by young Suzu, who lives with her parents and younger sister Sumi at the Eba section of South Hiroshima. She is a daydreamer and shows penchant for drawing and weaving imaginative stories from her uneventful reality. Her right hand profoundly conveys her feelings (in drawing paper) which the mouth only mumbles. For the most part in her life, Suzu doesn’t believe much in herself and hence complies to others wishes. When she turns eighteen, she is married to Shusaku Houjo, a young man from Port City Kure, home to largest Navy military base of Imperial Japan. Shusaku works as a clerk at the local naval base and father-in-law is an engineer for the navy. Mother-in law is a frail woman and so the elaborate household chores fall upon the thin shoulders of Suzu. Suzu’s new home is situated atop a resplendent hillock, surrounded by green fields and overlooking the vast ocean and the intimidating battleships. When the war escalates, Suzu’s sister-in law Keiko and her sweet little daughter Harumi comes to live with the family. Despite tough war-time situation – nighttime air-raids, shell attacks, rationed foods, diseases – and relentless personal tragedies, Suzu who is often blamed for absent-mindedness and imaginative flights, conducts herself as a well-spring for kindness and determination. Although physically and mentally, Suzu doesn’t come unscathed from war and knows there aren’t any happy endings, she finds courage and perseverance from deep within her. In the process, Suzu becomes a memorable face of civilian resilience during war-time devastation.

Sunao Katabuchi’s color palette here is muted and earthy which instantly generates charm and warmth. Katabuchi displays a vivid understanding of the household or domestic rituals of the day. He acutely draws the mundane chores as if it is the only means of providing spiritual solace amidst the overwhelming chaotic social atmosphere of World War II Japan. Thorough research and real-life verbatim accounts has gone into writing, from realizing the myriad of sufferings the civilians faced to showcasing the simplest things like what they wore or what they ate (no one could draw food preparation as beautiful as anime makers) and how the landscape appeared at that time. Katabuchi remarks many of the buildings in the drawings are actualized from the strong memories of the survivors. While the film-maker offers a perfect insider’s perspective of war-time life in Japan, there is none of the melodrama and unconvincing epiphanies we witness in majority of the similar themed narratives. ‘What’s the point of crying for a pity?’ a character says which happens to be general perception of the creators. Even the inevitable dropping of atom bomb in Hiroshima isn’t exploited for unwanted sentimental notes.

Though the narrative is subtle and transcended by its graceful sketchbook aesthetic, In This Corner of the World seems muddled in the first half due to confusing dreamy digressions and rapid introduction of many characters. Some of Suzu’s dreams where she imagines her alternate life paths ends up being a confounding experience than an interesting one. Certain tragedies and disputes are quickly moved through lacking strong emotional resonance. For example, the episode involving Suzu’s brother’s death, the verbal fight she has with husband Shusaku and the weirdly romantic scene (weird because Shusaku almost pushes Suzu into other man’s hands) between Suzu and old childhood friend Tetsu. These sequences comes out of nowhere and it speaks of conflicts which the narrative didn't suggest beforehand. Suzu’s mixed feelings about her husband and her existential angst warrants more depth in the narrative than this episodic treatment. However, the second-half is more clear-sighted and infuses spectrum of emotions to create one deeply resonant singular moment after another: especially, the tragedy involving Harumi is expressed in a manner that never exploits it for few tears and the later reconciliation between Suzu and sister-in law. There’s also an underlying ironic humor affixed to the proceedings that keeps things buoyant.

The gorgeous animation is mostly portrayed as a reflection of Suzu’s vibrant consciousness. At times of suffering and bleakness, the image resembles the watercolors that Suzu paints (as if an illustrated children book comes into life), depicting the woman’s escape into imagination rather than face death and destruction. The idea of frame-within-frame works brilliantly in the scene Suzu encounters the harsh reality of bombs dropping at the city. Katabuchi makes an excellent use of the medium whenever he portrays Suzu’s introspective journey (even a broken windowpane hanging upon a tree becomes colorful canvas in her mind). This along with Katabuchi’s perfect grasp of down-to-earth, quotidian war-time lives of the civilian populace gives the narrative an uplifting and optimistic tone. The anime once again proves the Japanese are still unparalleled when it comes to picturizing simple life in minute details, keeping all the emotions intact [a simple shot of Suzu blowing on the dandelion, whose white seeds float through the air, brings some emotional quality to it than the overtly sentimental works of their American counterparts).

In This Corner of the World (130 minutes) is a captivating character study of a sensitive young Japanese woman in wartime which interestingly dodges familiar sentimentality to yield an intimately human experience. Although it doesn’t match to the depth and crushing sadness of Grave of the Fireflies, it still remains as piercing account of victims of the war. 

Trailer

When Marnie Was There – A Poetic Tale of Friendship, Loss and Mortality

                                                The world’s most beloved and highly imaginative animation studio, Japan’s Studio Ghibli, has recently announced its temporary break from anime productions. The retirement of anime masters Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata combined with the recent box-office misfortunes has made the studio to take such a decision. It is very sad news for fervent film buffs all over the world. “When Marnie Was There” (aka "Omoide na Mani", 2014) would remain as the latest Ghibli movie for quite some time (Marnie was also said to have performed poorly in Japanese box-office). Directed by Hiromasa Yonebayashi, “Marnie” was based on the British novelist Joan G Robinson’s 1967 novel (“Howl’s Moving Castle” & “Secret World of Arrietty” were also based on British novels).

                                            Ghibli’s trademark coming-of-age themes, rich natural world, positively infectious spirit and bitter-sweetness encompasses “When Marnie Was There”, although the movie might not measure up to the studio’s evergreen classics “Princess Mononoke”, “My Neighbor Totoro” and “Spirited Away”. “Marnie” was a minimal work, even when compared with Ghibli’s recent endeavors like “The Wind Rises” and “Tale of the Princess Kaguya” (one of the gorgeous hand-drawn anime ever made). Nevertheless, “Marnie” could be enjoyed on its own terms and I have always felt that an above average Ghibli work is superior to Hollywood animation studio masterpieces. Director Yonebashi has deftly adapted a Western children’s book, imbuing Japanese context and little of adult psychology.

                                           The anime begins with 12 year old Anna Sasaki woefully sitting under the shade of tree, watching over the jubilant kids running around the playground. Her artistic talent is well evident from the picture she has drawn of the playground. But, her portrait more or less shows the playing area as some sort of grey, desolate place. Anna proclaims “In the world there’s an invisible magical circle; these people are inside, and I’m outside”. Her quest to get into an inner magical circle is makes up for the movie’s narrative. Anna, the asthmatic child on the cusp of puberty, has only recently confronted with this hopeless feeling as she discovered some terrible document about her foster mother. Anna’s worried guardian Yoriko insists that the girl call her ‘mother’, but Anna only thinks of her as an aunt.

                                        On the doctor’s insistence, Anna is sent to Yoriko’s relative in the countryside. The fresh air might provide cure to her ailing disease and calm the shredding emotions. She stays up with Oiwas, who reminds us of the genial elderly couple of Ozu films. Oiwas’ own children are living in cities and they are very happy to receive Anna. They also give Anna her own space. Anna wanders around the beautiful coastal town and mostly avoids people. Anna’s love for sketching draws her close to an astounding, dilapidated, British-style manor. Known as “Marsh House”, the majestic building is situated on the other side of a cove.  Anna repeatedly dreams about the building and in her dreams, she sees a young blonde girl in high window having her hair brushed by a governess. One day, Anna even meets the mysterious girl named “Marnie”. Both the girls have blue eyes and a tormented childhood. As the girls strongly bond with the feeling of friendship, questions arise about the identity of Marnie.

                                      The explanation of the mystery behind the existence of Marnie may not satisfy us, compared to the mystery itself. The backstory is too melodramatic that makes reminisces us of mopey YA novels, but these flaws are transcended by the creation of an exquisitely beautiful landscape, whose luminescence can’t be sometimes explained by mere words. The richly textured image of Anna rowing the boat, while Marnie stands on the bow, her blonde hair fluttering, is something only the Ghibli geniuses could think of. There are many such virtuoso moments, which make us forget the dab resolutions and lack of complex catharsis.  Like previous Ghibli movies, the protagonist goes through the subtly hinted phase of sexual awakening or has a pre-adoslescent crush (Anna was flustered when she sees Marnie dancing with a boy). Similar to “Spirited Away”, Anna stumbles into some sort of secret realm (although not as elaborate as the Miyazaki classic) in which there are no outright villains. If there is an antagonist in the anime, it would be the passage of time and haunting, entombed memories.

                                   Apart from the visually poetic images of moonlit marsh landscapes, the other captivating vision is the evocation of that Gothic mansion. The initial interplay between Anna and Marnie were really heartfelt; two fragile souls reaching out to each other for affection. Director Yonebashi adeptly diffuses some of the Japanese elements: like the presence of enigmatic, reticent fisherman, Toichi; the good-natured Oiwa hand-carved owl sculptures (in Japanese culture, owls are the symbol of luck and provide protection from hardships), etc. The standards for liking “Marnie” might be defined by viewers’ patience and attention, and their ability to overlook few melodramatic contrivances.

                                 “When Marnie Was There” (103 minutes) is a must watch for the cinephiles, who love the works of Studio Ghibli. It is a lyrical adventure story that explores lush landscapes as well as haunted memories. 

Trailer

 

When Marnie Was There aka Omoide no Mani -- IMDb

Giovanni’s Island – A Heart-Breaking Anime with Spectacular Visuals

                                                Isao Takahata’s powerful anti-war anime “Grave of the Fireflies” (1988) and Mori Masaki’s harrowing “Barefoot Gen” (1983) showcased how innocent souls get crushed when the manic leaders at the top battle for supremacy. It possessed unbridled beauty and enlivening childish delight, which made all the sorrow, fatigue and despair endured by the characters more lamentable. Mizuho Nishikubo’s “Giovanni Island” (2014) owns some of the spirit of those movies as it also tells the cruel fate of children caught in a conflict they don’t even understand. Though the anime is too melodramatic to be called a ‘masterpiece’, it does share the charm of Studio Ghibli films.

                                           “Giovanni’s Island” tells a historical story that’s rarely explored in any kind of art form: the Russian Occupation of the island Shikotan, after Japan’s defeat in World War II. The island is said to still remain under the control of Russians, so we understand the necessity of telling this tragic story. The anime starts on July 4, 1945, on Shikotan. Many men have gone off to fight the war and we see the sportive two brothers – Junpei (10 year old) and Kanta – going on about their daily routine, which is hunting for bird eggs and attending schoolhouse, governed by Miss Sawako. The boys’ widowed father, Tatsuo is the island guard and he pretty much breaks down when Japan’s surrenders on August 15, 1945. Grandfather Genzou is a proud fisherman. Tatsuo is a hard-line guy and a loving father, who is enamored by the classic Japanese story, “Night on the Galactic Road” by Kenji Miyazawa.

                                          Tatsuo often asks Kanta to read the book and the boys are also drawn towards the story of two kittens going on metaphysical journey, aboard a magical railroad train. The brothers name themselves after the story’s primary characters – Giovanni and Campanella. They often dream about traveling through Milky Way on that magical train. Their lives are breached soon as Russian soldiers set foot on the island after Japan’s surrender. The Russian commander takes the boys’ home and they are allowed to occupy the stable. Junpei and Kanta’s reckless uncle, Hideo also arrives around the time and does some odd smuggling jobs. For the boys, the invasion has one favorable prospect: it’s the friendship they develop with their next-door neighbor Tanya, the daughter of commander.

                                        The blossoming relationship between Junpei and Tanya transcends the language barrier and presents some optimism towards cultural assimilation. The Japanese and Russian kids in the classroom too share an amiable relationship. But, things take a more serious turn when the boys’ father is arrested and all the Japanese residents of island are evacuated to a Russian internment camp. The conniving uncle and affectionate teacher accompany the boys. The bone-chilling cold weather and the impoverished conditions are too much to bear, but the brothers tell each other the fantasy tales, hoping for a better future.

                                        The boys rendering the fantasy tale about a magical train traveling through the stars contributes to a lot of spectacularly drawn dream sequences. Apart from these stylish, grandeur moments we are also captivated by the understated simplicity in many of the sequences. The initial sunny orange setting of the 1945 and the harrowing icy blue sketches in the later part subtly indicates us the change in atmosphere and the emotions. Even if I use a load of adjectives to praise those hand-drawn images, it would still remain as an understatement. One of the most beautiful animated images unfolds in the sequence when the boys realize that Tanya also has a fascination toward trains. From the both sides of the house, they connect the tracks for model train sets and as the train runs through Tanya’s and the boys’ place, we know a connection is being forged, literally as well as metaphorically.

                                       The story is also stated with sensitivity. The Russian characters aren’t demonized. The invading soldiers are shown as human beings, obligated to carry on their duty. Both the good and bad qualities of the Japanese are also explored. Even though the uncle Hideo character initially comes off as a scheming, selfish guy, he is also shown to have a more genial side. The second-half of the anime remains emotionally overwhelming. The sentimental streak gets overboard in these parts as they are designed to make us cry out our eyes. There’s nothing wrong with crying for these distressed souls, but the tears are slightly manipulated than genuinely earned. Nevertheless, this part had one powerful scene, which happens when the boys meet their father in prison camp as two towering fences stand between them. The boys and the father achingly stretch their hands to touch for one last time.

                                    The first-half of the movie was more wonderful and a fine coming-of-age story as we watch the young innocent love between Tanya and Junpei. The director in these early sequences also tries to show the resilient nature of the children and the common humanity they inherently possess. We often see Japanese and Russian children in their respective classroom loudly singing their respective folk songs. But, at some point later, the Japanese and Russian kids try to sing each others' folk songs. This small but powerful moment shows how conflicts and ever-threatening situation lie only in the minds of adults.

                                  “Giovanni’s Island” (102 minutes) is one of the most beautiful animated films of the recent times. The narrative doesn’t have the poignant eloquence of the classic Japanese animes, but it still intensely affects our emotions. 

Trailer

Giovanni's Island (Jobanni no shima) -- IMDb 

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya -- Soul-Stirring 'Studio Ghibli' Anime

                                          Japanese anime studio ‘Studio Ghibli’ (founded in 1985) under the guiding hands of Hayao Miyazaki transformed animated feature as one of the highest form of art, while animation in rest of the world has been succumbed into a form of entertainment only for kids. But, with the retirement of Miyazaki and certain financial problems, the golden age of Studio Ghibli might be coming to an end. Recently it was suggested that the studio might take a break from making movies (after the release of “When Marnie was There”). Studio’s Ghibli's another prominent film-maker (& co-founder) Isao Takahata (aged 79) – known for works like “Grave of the Fireflies”, “Only Yesterday”, “Pom Poko” -- has also announced his retirement. All these news of dissolution and reality of retirements only makes the experience of watching Takahta’s ethereal “The Tale of the Princess Kaguya” (2013) more heart-breaking. It possesses the inventiveness and singular beauty we witnessed earlier in “Totoro”, “Princess Mononoke” and “Spirited Away”. 

                                        The 10^th century Japanese folktale “The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter” (also known as “Princess Kaguya”) is considered to be one of the oldest stories in Japanese culture. It’s also got be one of the early sci-fi tales, detailing the life of a mysterious girl hailing from ‘Tsuki-no-Miyaki’ – The Capital of Moon. Under the hand-drawn animation, the story’s beauty becomes a marvel. The anime has a little different look from the usual Ghibli flicks. Director Takahata has chosen water-color aesthetic to encompass the tale’s exquisite imagery. Thematically the tale addresses Ghibli’s trademark theme: ongoing and everlasting battle between advanced civilization and nature. It depicts how a false sense of sophistication turns even honest feelings like love into hollow ceremony. Most importantly, the tale jubilantly contradicts from Disney’s or western fairy tales’ recurring storyline: every girl wants to be a princess.

                                       “Kaguya” commences with an old bamboo cutter discovering a miniature girl inside a glowing stalk of bamboo. Bamboo cutter’s wife mistakes the miniature girl for a doll, and in her hands she transforms into a healthy human baby. The childless old couples marvel at the child’s antics and call her as ‘princess’. However, the girl isn’t like ordinary human baby. Within days, the baby starts to walk and in months she starts running around with other children, singing songs. At every joyous or adventurous moment, she seems to spurt like a bamboo tree. Local children call her as “Little Bamboo”. The princess is an indomitable spirit, gleefully playing among the beautiful natural world of trees, rivers, and birds. Her special friend among the group is a boy named ‘Sutemaru’.

                                        One day, the bamboo cutter discovers gold in the shining bambbo stalk, and in another day he finds adorable silks. He takes this as a gift from heaven and tells her wife that they had to build a mansion in the town to give the real princess life for the girl. The princess is soon taken to the capital. She is overwhelmed by the wealth and palatial estate, but she greatly misses the vibrancy of life in the countryside. She is placed under a strict governess Lady Sagami. The lady teaches the ways of royal lady. At the coming-of-age ceremony, the princess is named ‘Kaguya’. From then on, she is hidden inside her chamber. She yearns for individuality, while in the outside world the news of her beauty spreads like wildfire. Noblemen treat her as a rare treasure that needs to be claimed. The story takes a surrealistic turn when Kaguya’s sadness becomes too much to bear.

                                       “Kaguya” depicts the spiritual emptiness imposed by parents on child, telling them that it’s only for their betterment. It presents how the elders force their cultural notions or false sense of happiness on the spirited children (as Kaguya tells towards the end:"The happiness you wanted for me was hard to bear"). The tragedy inherent with the tale is that the rebellious Kaguya goes along with her parents’ plan because of the love she feels for them. The obstinate father (bamboo cutter) also does these deeds out of love for his daughter. The story also indicts at the community’s very narrow-minded idea on female happiness. Although, it is a 10^th century tale, these two themes may never seem outdated.

                                        The preternatural roots of Kaguya are revealed subtly in the films’ last thirty minutes. If you don’t know little something about the origin story or medieval Japan’s culture, then you couldn’t fully get the tale’s nuances. Still this last act is far away from being confusing and only adds poignancy. The animation in this last act has some striking sequences, especially the arrival of moon people with their troops, playing upbeat music looked magical, powerful, and so heart-wrenching (the dream of flight sequence is also outstanding). Takahata’s gradual shifts in visual style give an endearing experience. The muted colors and the fragile images gel finely with the tale’s main theme of loss. The impressionistic images of black lines in a dreamy sequence of escape wonderfully highlights the frantic emotions of our protagonist.

                                       “The Tale of the Princess Kaguya” (137 minutes) possess refined metaphors, thought-provoking observations, and breath-taking images like every other Japanese anime feature. It serves as a plaintive critique on society’s age-old idea of what constitutes to a girl’s happiness. 

Trailer

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya -- IMDb 

Paprika -- A Wildly Inventive Post-Modernist Anime

                                           Japanese anime film-maker Satoshi Kon – director of “Perfect Blue” and “Tokyo Godfathers” – is famous for his philosophical digressions and masterful visuals. His movies offer a chaotic and less forgiving world than the universe of anime master Miyazaki. However, you could find unbridled beauty within those images. All his films are a form of dreams. “Paprika” (2006), the meta-thriller is his most dreamy trip, where the lines between dreams and reality blur. The film mixes several genres, borrowing ideas from the stories of Philip K. Dick and from movies like “Blade Runner”, “Until the End of the World” and other head-cracking anime.

                                        “Paprika’s” storyline is something you might have read or seen numerous times. It imagines the damage caused by an uncontrollable machine. But the journey into this labyrinthine of visuals is very challenging and at times disturbing.  The film also differs from Hollywood sci-fi thrillers because the lines between good and bad guys are unfathomable. The McGuffin in “Paprika” is the ‘DC Mini’ – a head-phone like device that allows recording a person’s dream. The story is set in the near future, where a psychiatric institute uses DC Mini as a therapeutic aid. The use of the device is not fully approved, but a female shrink Dr. Atsuko Chiba is using it on her patients to help them. She enters her patient’s subconscious mind through her sexy alter ego “Paprika”.

                                        Detective Konakawa, who experiences serious nightmares, gets help from Dr. Chiba through this dream therapy. Soon, the DC Mini’s are stolen from the office by people who are against this technology. They want to maintain the purity of dreams and so they use it with a malicious intent on the creators of this device. The mysterious villain traps his victims inside the torturous dreams as the victims fail to realize the difference between reality and dream. Konakawa helps out to find the missing gizmos as Paprika wanders through the dreams of adversaries to free the victims.

                                        Nolan’s thought provoking blockbuster movie “Inception” is inspired from anime like “Paprika”. At certain points, characters escape from dreams only to realize later that they are still trapped in other’s dream. A collective dream is shown in the film which threatens to totally obliterate the reality. In this collective dream flute-playing frogs, evil doll, home appliances and various machine parade through the streets of Tokyo. This collective dream might represent the collective subconscious of people, where everyone is a consumer or it can be seen as a critique of consumer culture. Though the storyline isn’t hard to follow, the visuals in the third act go bonkers as the disjointedness of dreams enters the adequacy of reality.

 

                                     

                                       Earlier in the film, Dr. Chiba says that REM cycles – recurring sleep state – first produces images like artsy short films and the later cycles produces epic blockbusters that moves faster. Satoshi Kon infuses both these types of imagery by echoing our mind’s eerie thought process. Throughout the film, Kon draws heavy parallels between our dreamy state and movie-watching state. He is also concerned about the way technology promises to bring closer, only to isolate from their closer ones.

                                      “Paprika” (90 minutes) pushes the virtues of anime and tackles a variety of subjects. This adult-oriented animation may put-off those who are reluctant to join the head trip, but its surrealistic imagining are absolutely wondrous. 

Trailer

Paprika (aka Papurika) -- IMDb 

The WInd Rises -- The Anime Master's Perfect Farewell Gift

                                        For the past three decades, Hayao Miyazaki has been viewed as the world's premiere animator. He proved to us that animation can’t be just dismissed as a genre for ‘kids.’ John Lasseter, one of the revered founders of Pixar and a film-maker, who revolutionized the animation movies, once said: “At Pixar, when we have a problem, we often take a Laserdiscs of one of Mr. Miyazaki’s films and look at a scene for a shot of inspiration. And it always works!” Later, the founders of Pixar, after taking over the Disney's animation department, cut out a deal to dub Miyazaki’s classic anime (voices were lent by established Hollywood actors) and release them in North American theaters. Miyazaki’s anime are famous for its lyrical details. He has bestowed us epic fantasies, children classics filled with warm humanity, humor and weird menageries. Miyazaki exquisitely blended Japanese mythologies with the themes like environmentalism, pacifism and feminism. His movies are both for pre-school and the mature.

                                   The artistically incontestable Miyazaki has announced his retirement after making the elegiac historical fantasy “The Wind Rises” (2013). So, if this truly his retirement, then this anime feature represents an end of an era. “The Wind Rises” definitely won't appeal to kids (like “Totoro”, Spirited Away” or “Ponyo”), since this is a languidly paced biography of an aeronautical engineer. Rather than a mythical landscape, Miyazaki has chosen the most recognizable 20^th century Japan for his tale. However, there is no doubt that this is yet another astounding work, loaded with unforgettable images and hidden meanings. 

                                 The film is set from a time toward the end of World War I to the end of World War II. When we first see the bespectacled boy, Jiro, he dreams about flight. He constantly sketches planes, pores over the designs in English-language aeronautical magazines, and in the dreams, he communicates with his hero – the Italian aeronautical engineer Gianni Caproni. Jiro’s chief flying machine designs are inspired by the curve of a mackerel bone. As a cultured young man, Jiro travels to Tokyo to find employment. In the train journey, he discusses French poetry with Nahoko, a pretty train passenger. He later saves her from the 1923 Great Kanto Earthquake.

                                 The subplot traces their romance as they eventually get reacquainted (and she becomes his wife). The central story concentrates on the darker time of Japanese history as Jiro and his fellow engineer Honjo travel to Germany, to see how Germans are building warplanes. Jiro eventually builds the ‘Zero Fighter Plane.’ Jiro doesn’t want to craft a weapon of destruction, but he chooses not to wrestle with his conscience, but dedicates himself to making the fastest and most advanced planes possible. He also has to deal with a personal tragedy.

                                Miyazaki has faced a lot of criticisms for his portrayal of Jiro Hirokoshi. Jiro’s lightweight fighter plane, Mitsubishi Zero enabled many victories for Japan in World War II (including the Pearl Harbor attack). The Japanese right-wingers blamed Miyazaki for portraying Horikoshi as a man plagued by doubts and grievous premonitions. Other critics accused Miyazaki of downplaying the evil. They questioned the purity of Jiro’s dreams and stated that this film tries to whitewash the Japanese atrocities. However, Miyazaki stated that he never intended to make a political movie ("I wanted to portray a devoted individual who pursed his dream head on", Miyazaki said in an interview). If you look closely, the film is not about warfare; it’s about a young man, living his dream, even though it comes at a heavy price. Miyazaki, a pacifist, has given profound statements that regret his country’s aggression during the Second World War. He has criticized the current Japanese government for the debate on increasing the militarization. So, through “The Wind Rises”, Miyazaki tries to show how a young man’s dream could be transformed by the politics and put to use for a deadly purpose.

                                  Miyazaki also ponders over the individual guilt of a scientist or an artist. In one of the dream sequences, Miyazaki’s and Jiro’s personal hero, Caproni says that airplanes are not instruments of war or ways of making money but “beautiful dreams.” However, Caproni, who also built warplanes for his fascist government – says he’d rather live in a world with pyramids (greatest wonder, but built by slaves, to honor tyrant kings). These words metaphorically state that every great human endeavor, more or less, had a bloodbath behind it. In the end, it is clear that Both – Jiro and Caproni --  were unhappy about the way their countries used their genius.    

                                  Though Jiro has been the Miyazaki’s titular subject, a lot of things are completely fictionalized. The main addition to Jiro’s life is the fictional character of Nahoko. The charming romantic re-connection and the melancholy moments that follows comes from the work of Tatsuo Hori, a writer of the pre-World War II era (one of his novel is titled “The Wind Rises”). There are also certain personal connections between Hirokoshi and Miyazaki: Katsuji -- Miyazaki’s father -- managed a munitions factory that made parts for the Zero fighter planes. Miyazaki’s mother suffered from tuberculosis like the fictional character Nahoko. Both the dreamers seem to have shared this paradoxical view: fighter planes are beautiful, but war is bad.

                                  Miyazaki finely embraces the hand-drawn style, which is frowned upon by many viewers like a black-and-white movie. But, “The Wind Rises” and other Miyazaki films possess an amazing collection of details and artistry that couldn’t sometimes achieved by computer generated animation. These rich hand-drawn images never lessen our ability to relate to the characters. Miyazaki, once again, takes us through breath-taking landscapes, especially the agrarian Japan of 1920’s. The Great Kanto earthquake and the ensuing fire are conveyed through jaw-dropping visuals.

                                 Hayao Miyazaki’s “The Wind Rises” (126 minutes) may not get absolute affections of people like his previous fantasy classics. However, his genius and artistry haven’t diminished a bit, as he once again deals with a complicated story and idea. This conflicted moral fable is truly a great farewell gift to all the movie-lovers. 

Trailer

The Wind Rises -- IMDb 

The Anime -- A Brief Introduction

                              Anime are a mass-media phenomenon in Japan, produced on a huge commercial scale within the Japanese studio system and consumed in vast quantities by domestic and regional audiences. “Astro Boy” (1963) was the first influential anime export to the west, but it was the breakthrough “Akira” (1988) which announced anime as a huge cult phenomenon internationally.
 

                              Anime are sophisticated and complex, comprising an astonishing range of styles, genres and themes. Even anime intended for children contain mature themes rarely found in Western animation. Anime are produced not only as feature films but also as TV serials, straight-to-video and multimedia spin-offs. In most of the anime, the characters’ goals are complex: ‘villains’ are not wholly evil; facile romantic conclusions are forestalled; closure is open-ended. Many anime movies use sudden focal changes, varied and unusual camera angles and distances, whereas Western animation usually deploys a uniform, middle distance. This does not mean that anime hasn’t borrowed Western influences. Stylistic influences include glam rock, with characters sporting hair of many colors for graphic variety and characterization.

                            Anime emerged as a distinctly post-war culture, expressing the concerns of post-war youth generations. Its imagery is often apocalyptic. The atom bomb is repeatedly referenced. Apart from being the only nation to have suffered atomic attack, the Japanese are said to live under a number of other collective stresses (internal and external), including the continual threat of earthquake, typhoon and climatic extremes. The economic downturn in the 90s resulted in sporadic acts of violence, such as the gas attack on Tokyo subway, and the grisly murder by a teenager called Sakakibara. All these reinforced a growing millenarian anxiety.  

                           The pessimistic tones are partly derived from Western cyberpunk influences. Cyberpunk depicts dystopian worlds populated by virtual entities – Artificial Intelligences and other human-machine interfaces. Like, Hollywood science-fiction, it portrays an intensification of present day tendencies, namely the dispositions of post-industrialist capitalist society. 

                           “Akira” (1988) has imported Western cyberpunk elements, including films like “Videodrome” (1983), “Terminator” (1984) and “Blade Runner” (1982), and combined them with its own imagination of disaster derived from centuries-old apocalyptic beliefs. “Shinto” is one of Japan’s oldest religions. It holds that inanimate objects such as rocks, trees and rivers are sacred and that god dwells in them. “Ghost in the Shell” (1995) used this influence to comment on and reflect the unique circumstances of Japan’s post-industrial society. 

                           Japan’s most popular film-maker, Hayao Miyazaki crosses boundaries of age, gender with his animes. “Princess Mononoke” (1997), an eco-fable about the destruction of the forests set in 14^th century Japan, was the best-selling film of all time in Japan until “Titanic.” Miyazaki’s next film, “Spirited Away” (2001), which traces ten year old Chihiro’s adventures in a spirit realm where sorceress Yubaba transforms her parents into pigs, did better than “Titanic.” Spirited Away also won an Oscar for Best Animated Feature and “Golden Bear” at the Berlin Film Festival. Miyazaki’s earlier animations, “My Neighbor Totoro” (1988), “Kiki’s Delivery Service”, “Castle in the Sky” (1986) and recent animes like, “Howl’s Moving Castle” (2004) and “Ponyo” are also extremely popular across East Asia. His new film is titled “The Wind Rises” and might be released in September. 

 

                            Typical Miyazaki traits include richly realized fantasy worlds, pre-industrial or futuristic settings, plucky girls and formidable matriarchs. The motifs of flight and empowering labor also unite his work. Miyazaki’s films are not alone among anime in portraying images of strong women. These have a long tradition in Japanese stories and legends. The complex attitude towards women is demonstrated in “Princess Mononoke”, where the eponymous heroine lives among wolves and is first seen with her visage smeared with red war-paint and blood, spitting out bullets from her Moro’s side and licking the wound.

                               A hairy pelt hangs around her neck, connoting unbridled animality and, together with suggestions of menstrual blood, pointing to dangerous female sexuality beyond society’s accepted norms. Yet Mononoke is not subjected to mechanics of degradation or containment administered out to her type in patriarchal narratives; that is, she is neither destroyed nor domesticated by offer of marriage. There is also an equally ambiguous villain: Lady Eboshi rules over a gun-manufacturing iron works, heralding the arrival of iron-age technology and the destruction of the forests, but she also gives refuge to society’s marginals, ex-prostitutes and lepers. 

                             The film charts the disappearance of the former ecological order and the shift away from pre-modern communion with the natural world and its spirits, as expressed in animalistic beliefs and depicted in Mononoke’s ability to interact with the host of nature’s spirits. Lady Eboshi’s actions epitomize the desire to make nature subservient to human will by eradicating and repressing the traditional animalistic beliefs. 

                              There might be many Buddhist references in an anime. Mostly it's hard to understand all the nuances or meanings, but fortuitously, you can enjoy the anime, along with only little knowledge. Anime still suffers from the negative stereotype that it is all either violent pornography or mindless entertainment, and thus has not been fully embraced by all. For the most part, Disney, and therefore America still holds the prestigious position in animation worldwide. The rise in popularity and acclaim of anime is a threat to this position. Apart from few movies made by "Pixar Animations", most of the American animation films are old-fashioned and insipid. Whereas, anime is a cultural product of Japan. It exudes both the existential brilliance and lyrical beauty.