Studio Ghibli Retrospective 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

X. Ocean Waves

This movie was a test project for Studio Ghibli’s up-and-coming animators, writers and talent. It was meant for TV, and was supposed to be modest. However, the film’s length kept increasing, the production schedule went overtime and, as a result, the budget swelled. Basically, Ocean Waves should’ve been a disaster. Yet while its director, Tomomi Mochizuki, would never work on a Studio Ghibli project again, the film manages, though littered with problems, to be somewhat competent. I guess life’s funny like that.

On paper, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s a send-off of teenage angst, contrasting with the 20-something realization that, yes, you really were that dumb in high school. I should be able to relate, seeing as I was a obnoxious as an adolescent. Yet there’s a crippling flaw that holds it back from really connecting: it lacks consequence.

Perhaps the biggest frustration is Rikako. Her dilemma’s simple: she buries herself in her studies, often at the expense of everyone else, to cope with family troubles. She’s rich, but with that comes a ditz that makes her shallow and emotionally-compromised. This is all material for good writing, but it never goes beyond surface-level. To quote Taku, it feels like a really bad soap opera.

And that’s what it is. That’s not to say the movie doesn’t try, it does, but it’s hard to get invested when the film’s so shallow. Even Rikako, who’s basically Haruhi Suzumiya if her actions actually came back to bite her, doesn’t really grow much. She remains impulsive, and we’re supposed to accept that. To top it off, the movie time skips and expects the audience to accept that Rikako has matured.

It doesn’t help that the film’s other characters are pretty weak, too. Taku, our narrator, has no depth beyond acting slightly judgmental of Rikako, even if he goes along with her schemes out of guilt. Taku’s close friend, Yutaka, doesn’t fare much better, being a quiet, boring kid who has a crush on Rikako. The film wants us to believe there’s a legitimate love triangle with tension, but I don’t feel it. It comes across as hollow and empty.

If Ocean Waves has a saving grace, it’s its length. Normally, dull dramas plod along endlessly, but this film’s a little over an hour; in fact, it’s the shortest movie in Studio Ghibli’s repertoire. It’s also a quick watch. But between Rikako’s crocodile tears, the repeated face slaps and the awkward time skip, I’m wondering what the point of it was: that high school’s rough? That teenagers say and do stuff they regret later on? What’s going on here?

I don’t want to come off unfair, though. The movie isn’t terrible, and I find myself fascinated with the electronica accompaniment and great-for-TV animation. It’s also, like I said, blissfully short. But it’s not terribly compelling, containing depth on-par with a Limp Bizkit album. Even as a first-time film, I expect better from someone working under Studio Ghibli.

XI. Pom Poko

This is an oddity of a film. Isao Takahata’s attempt at environmentalism, it takes a real-life period of history, the development of The New Tama Hills Project, and shines light on how devastating that was for its wildlife. And, for the most part, it succeeds. Yet due to its length and bizarre concept, Pom Poko remains, to this day, incredibly-divisive. I get why, as it had to grow on me.

I think its biggest draw is its take on Tanuki lore. Tanuki are known for the ability to shape-shift, and the movie addresses that. Yet instead of playing it straight, the Tanuki are personified. They walk on their hind legs, they wear clothes, they even speak the language of the humans. This leads to lots of great comedy, but it also makes for a weird disconnect.

Oddly enough, this is a war movie. It’s not a conventional one, the Tanuki are demonstrated to be too lazy and passive to fight the humans head-on, but it does play with the wartime structure: there are guerrilla skirmishes constantly, the Tanuki play tricks on the humans and gaslight their fears, and innocents routinely die. And between the constant jokes and schmaltzy rhymes, Pom Poko’s pretty graphic. You don’t pick up on that initially, but it really is.

The movie’s also upfront about its war themes. It establishes early on that this is a fight the Tanuki can’t win, but it gives valour to their efforts. Each time they have small victories, they celebrate. Each time they make progress, they celebrate. Even in the end, when they give up, they still celebrate. Because that’s what Tanukis do.

The biggest selling point, and most-obvious punch-line, is its emphasis on Tanuki testicles being magical. This is true to Japanese lore, but it can make for some weird jokes at the expense of storytelling. If you think about it, they’re testicles, and they’re being used to fight humans. The comedy writes itself!

Still, the movie does drag a bit (no pun intended). The big set-piece, during the lantern festival, is impressive, especially with all the call-backs and references to Japanese culture, but it goes on for too long. Even the narration, which is lovely, tends to maunder. I understand that this movie’s riffing on a traditional documentary, but a little more “show, don’t tell” would’ve been nice!

It’s hard to say if everyone will like this. For some, it might be boring, or gruesome, or probably both. But for others, it’s an interesting dive into a piece of history that wasn’t so well-known. Personally, I think it’s fine. It had to grow on me, like I said, but it’s fine. That may not be high praise, but take it for what it is.

XII. Whisper of the Heart

The story behind Whisper of the Heart’s incredibly tragic: initially, it was meant as a test film for Hayao Miyazaki’s successor, Yoshifumi Kondō, to see if he could lead Studio Ghibli after Miyazaki’s retirement. Miyazaki even wrote the screenplay, intending it to be his swan-song project. Yet, as irony had it, Kondō died of an aneurysm three years later, whereas Miyazaki would continue directing movies. Go figure!

The ultimate shame is that, had he survived to work on another film, I think Kondō could’ve rivalled or surpassed Miyazaki creatively. Because Whisper of the Heart, which celebrates the artistic experience, is really that good. Everything about it, save for its final line, is a wonderfully-pure expression of what it means to be an artist. As someone who writes regularly, that speaks to me personally. If Kiki’s Delivery Service is about the struggle to keep your passions alive, then Whisper of the Heart’s about what drives that passion in the first place.

Shizuku’s easily the most-relatable writer I’ve seen on film. She oozes optimism, routinely doubts her skills and struggles to balance her priorities. She gets so wrapped up in her passions that they sometimes consume her, to the point of emotional torture and lack of sleep. As someone who struggles with prioritizing, I can relate. And the film doesn’t romanticize anything, which is nice.

Of course, the underlying motif is the song “Country Roads”. It surfaces and resurfaces multiple times, and that’s not accidental: it’s symbolic of the creative struggle. If the song itself is about raw passion, then the movie taking advantage of that is acknowledging that passion drives art. Even bad art can carry weight if driven by passion.

The film’s best moment, ignoring the dream sequences in the second-half, is when Shizuku and Seiji jam with Seiji’s grandfather and his friends. As someone who’s jammed with friends and family before, this feels incredibly personal. It’s a reminder that the greatest joys are the simple ones. It also a really well-executed scene.

Whisper of the Heart is, to put it bluntly, delightful. It’s funny, it’s sad, it’s deep, it’s inspired, it’s basically the creative experience without any of the sentimental fluff. It can be cheesy, admittedly, but that’s to be expected in a teenaged slice-of-life drama. It’s too bad its final line’s so bad, or else I’d have nothing to complain about!

(To be continued.)