A Marvel-ous Mitzvah

There’s plenty I can say about Agatha All Along. Like how it made me care for an antiheroine who murders other witches. Or how, despite being a spin-off of WandaVision, it stands on its own. Or even how its lyrical motif is a banger, which shouldn’t be surprising when the songwriters penned Frozen. All of this is great, but my money’s on a scene I think deserves more praise: the Bar Mitzvah in Episode 6. Because while I may have gripes, which I’ll cover too, it’s the most authentic bit of Jewish representation in The MCU to-date.

It’s no secret that, even with comics being started by them, Jewish representation in The MCU’s sparse. There are many Jewish superheroes in comic books, but you wouldn’t know that with how frequently they’re scrubbed of their roots on film. This is true of Wanda Maximoff, an antiheroine who was made a generic, Eastern European witch in The MCU. Nothing against Elizabeth Olson, she did a fantastic job humanizing her, but that lack of authenticity was always a sore spot. Though I’m getting ahead of myself…

The role of Teen in Agatha All Along was routinely teased. Even his true name was as a mystery, such that it was blocked with a sigil. So when it was revealed halfway through, I thought that’d be the show’s biggest ace in the hole. I was proven wrong with the next episode, which delved into his backstory. And it began with a Bar Mitzvah.

(FYI, from here on in there’ll be spoilers.)

It’s clear the writers did their homework. The Bar Mitzvah wasn’t Orthodox, judging by the female rabbi and mixed seating, but it didn’t matter. Not only was the Torah reading authentic, the recitations of the blessings and the sound of the words were spot-on. It’s not easy mastering the guttural sounds of Hebrew, especially since there aren’t English equivalents, but actor Joe Locke nailed it. He wanted to be as accurate as possible.

Another aspect that was so great was the afterparty. Yes, it was overly-extravagant. And yes, the kid’s family had way too much money. But that’s how Bar Mitzvahs are nowadays. They’ve become a rite of passage, even rivalling weddings. Considering the vibe of the show proper is magic, it also made sense that there’d be a Taro card booth there. Also, it had a “Hava Nagila” chair dance, and a Jewish celebration’s never complete without one!

The last point that really worked is naming the character William Kaplan. The writers could’ve easily been lazy and used a generic last name. Nothing against the Cohens and Steins of the world, but they’re overrepresented as Jewish names. Having a name like Kaplan shows the writers weren’t afraid to think a little. Plus, for whatever reason, Kaplan fits him.

That’s not to say the Bar Mitzvah couldn’t have been improved upon. The most-glaring omission is the lack of a recognizable trop for the Torah reading. I know that’d have required extra time and planning, but a Torah trop is how most Jews read the Torah. There are a variety of melodies to choose from, but the Torah, like a good song, needs one to complete it. Could the show not have relied on the generic Ashkenazi trop? It’s not as melodic as alternatives, but it’s common amongst Ashkenazi Jewry, which William appears to be.

Another issue I have is less the show and more the casting. Joe Locke, perfect as he is, isn’t Jewish. He’s Manx Christian. He’s openly-gay, which fits his character on-screen and in the comics, but a Christian playing a Jewish character instantly loses points for me. Jews are different culturally than Christians, complete with different life experiences, so a Christian playing a Jewish teenager is disappointing. Could The MCU not find a gay, Jewish actor?

This isn’t the first time The MCU has done this. Remember Moon Knight? Remember when Marc Spector had an emotional breakdown at his mother’s Shiva, which caused his alter-ego to take over? It was a great moment, showing Marc’s complicated relationship with his mom, but Oscar Isaac’s not Jewish. I love him as an actor, and he nailed it there, but it highlights how superhero movies consider Judaism an identity you can switch off at will. As any Jew would tell you, even a convert, that’s not true.

But that speaks to a bigger issue. Yes, The MCU has made progress on the representation front recently, and it’s yielded mostly-positive results. But with Jewish representation, it still has a long way to go. As we’ve seen with Sabra, The MCU needs to not be ashamed of its roots. It needs to fully-embrace them.

It sucks that table scraps are what excite me these days. Like with Marc Spector’s Shiva breakdown, William Kaplan having a Bar Mitzvah and reading from the Torah isn’t enough. The franchise needs to take bigger risks. This means more Jewish moments and more Jews playing Jewish characters. It’s no different than with other minorities.

Does that mean I’m unhappy with the Bar Mitzvah? Of course not! Pathetic as it may be, I’ll take whatever I can get! But it’s not enough. And until moments like these are commonplace, it’ll continue to not be enough.

The Jedi Are...?

One of the annoyances about The Acolyte’s cancellation is that the show wasn’t afraid to venture into new territory. For one, it came before the prequels chronologically, something previously discussed in books. And two, it built on something from Star Wars: The Last Jedi, that being the fallibility and arrogance of The Jedi Order. We’d seen some of this with Star Wars: The Clone Wars, but that was wartime. War makes people irrational, so I’m glad relative stability also spotlighted this. I only wish fans were as enthusiastic...

But that’s the problem with Star Wars. Aside from a fear of risk-taking, the franchise routinely treads on milquetoast ideas that rarely challenge people. I liked Obi-Wan Kenobi more than The Acolyte, but it didn’t really discuss how The Jedi were a corrupt entity like the aforementioned did. It also centred around a previously-established character. It was nice seeing Ewan MacGregor return to the role, but we didn’t learn anything new other than how he was disenfranchised. Also, that he had familiarity with Princess Leia.

The same could also be said of Ahsoka. I think it stands on its own, and I enjoyed it a lot. But that has the caveat of featuring characters that’d appeared in other shows. It was great seeing Morgan Elsbeth, Hera Syndula, Sabine Wren and the likes, but I was familiar with them. Nothing moved the franchise in a new direction, not even Admiral Thrawn’s return. I’m definitely excited for a Season 2, but still.

The same can’t be said for The Acolyte. Was it messy? Yes. Yet outside of that, it openly steered Star Wars in a new direction. It wasn’t afraid to interrogate The Jedi, their failings and if they really were a net good. This was emphasized constantly, such that one scene actually summed it up best:

“I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to control the uncontrollable…[y]ou project an image of goodness and restraint, but it’s only a matter of time before one of you snaps. And when, not ‘if,’ that happens, who will be strong enough to stop him?”

That’s interesting! Sure, it’s coming from an anti-Jedi senator, but where’s the lie? Ignoring Anakin’s downfall, The Acolyte foreshadows this within its own narrative. Have we forgotten Mae and Osha’s backstory, the one where four Jedi kill their coven under the guise of protection? Or how The Jedi imprisoned Osha for crimes Mae committed, all without giving her a fair trial? Or how, when confronted with the truth, Osha Force choked her former master to death? Is this being ignored because Osha and Mae argued about The Jedi’s intentions as children?

This highlights the longstanding issue many fans have with Star Wars: they won’t let The Jedi be flawed. We saw this too with Luke Skywalker in Star Wars: The Last Jedi. That movie also had flaws, particularly regarding Snoke, but Luke being guilt-ridden over failing his nephew wasn’t one of them. People hated that he’d given up on being a Jedi, only to later cast a projection and fool Kylo Ren, but that was more organic narratively than Luke taking out Darktroopers in Season 2 of The Mandalorian. Buy hey! Anything to give us an awkwardly motion-captured Mark Hamill!

It's bad when fans complain about Star Wars lacking new ideas, only to turn around and complain when it gives us them. I liked Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker more than most, but it was safer and less-interesting than its predecessor. And I really only gravitated to its introspective look at legacies and lineage, something that, again, was new for the franchise. I guess Star Wars can’t win, right? I think that’s the case.

But that’s the problem: whenever the franchise treads new ground, there’s pushback. And this is especially true when introspecting The Jedi. They’re not allowed to be flawed. They can’t be grumpy, resentful, or suffer from PTSD. Because then they’re relatable, and Heaven forbid!

Here’s a little secret: that relatability? That desire for risk? That’s what ages better in Star Wars. There’s a reason why Star Wars Ep. V: The Empire Strikes Back is remembered fondly, and why it’s used as a yardstick for future entries. Sure, it was met with mixed-reception upon initial release, but it took risks. Big risks! It was unafraid to challenge Luke’s understanding of good and evil, something its sequel continued into the battle with Vader and Palpatine.

That was nearly 45 years ago! We’re still experiencing the fallout of “No, I am your father!” with newer entries. It’s so heavily-ingrained in pop culture now that not only has it been a victim of The Mandela Effect, it’s also been spoofed and memorized by the public. It’s a goofy twist, but it’s a good twist. I’d argue it’s one of the best in film history!

You want to know something else? The Jedi being fallible was also somewhat built into The Prequels. We remember those movies for their memes, bad acting and laughable dialogue, but George Lucas knew The Jedi weren’t saints. How could an entire order not only not guess that the real villain was in plain sight, but was manipulating one of their own and grooming him as his successor? And how could The Jedi go along with paying for an army from a mysterious source and not foresee its soldiers turning on them? Aren’t The Jedi supposed to be “good at what they do”? This all contradicts that.

I think fans should decide what they want from Star Wars. More-specifically, they should decide what they want The Jedi to be, and then stick with it. The franchise can’t be interesting if it’s not innovative. And it can’t be long-lasting if it can’t interrogate itself, The Jedi included. Because that’s good writing! Don’t we want good writing?

Spiders and Herons

So I rewatched Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse. Despite the behind-the-scenes involving the animators slightly diminishing my enjoyment, it holds up exceptionally. It’s not as emotional as its predecessor, and its ending leaves me wanting, but that’s not a slight against it. And yes, it’s my favourite movie of last year, and I’m disappointed it didn’t win the Oscar for Best Animated Feature. (Only a little bit.)

I mention this to tie-in to my entry on The Boy and the Heron, which I also enjoyed. It’s not flawless, and it falls short of Hayao Miyazaki’s best, but it’s easily the best he’s directed since Spirited Away. But is it the best animated feature of last year? And did it deserve the Oscar for Best Animated Feature? Maybe.

The Academy Awards discourse strikes a nerve personally. For one, it’s 2+ hours of Hollywood making political statements on a soapbox, which is annoying when those receiving the awards don’t know what they’re talking about. Two, who cares? Not only is it the film-equivalent of racetrack betting, it’s also subjective. True, Oscar prestige is real, but do you need a gold statue to tell you something’s good? And are the judges not allowed opinions?

I think last year’s Best Animated Feature win has poisoned how the aforementioned movies are being discussed online. Ideally there wouldn’t even be a separate award, as it’s demeaning to the nominees. But while The Oscars are definitely the internet’s favourite punching bag, I think people care way too much despite claiming otherwise. Nowhere is this more-apparent than with Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse and The Boy and the Heron. I say that having enjoyed both.

Perhaps the best example can be seen in how The Boy and the Heron ranks on IMDB. It’s currently at a 7.4/10 with over 75k reviews. That puts it lower than every other Hayao Miyazaki-directed movie, even more than his previously “worst-received” movie, Ponyo. Far be it for me to bash tastes, it’d be hypocritical given I love the Avatar franchise, but many of the reviews (I find) read as bitter. Especially juxtaposed to the rating and reviews for Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, which are far more glowing and have the movie at #37 in IMDB’s Top 250 List. That’s understandable, it’s more mainstream, but considering that Spirited Away, the only other anime film to win Best Animated Feature, is also on that list, I wonder if there’s resentment.

It sounds like I’m paranoid, but consider the conversation when The Boy and the Heron won the Oscar. On one hand, Phil Lord and Chris Miller, the project heads for Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, had no qualms. On the other hand, despite later clarifying, Miles Morales’s VA, Shameik Moore, was unimpressed. He wrote “Robed” on Twitter, which I assume was a typo for “Robbed”. Not the most flattering response.

I get it: Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse was fantastic. I can’t begin to talk about how its various art-styles and musical choices served the story’s commentary on how diverse Spider-Man is. Or how well it juggles several, long-running plot-lines. Or how, despite being the longest animated movie I’ve seen, it doesn’t waste a single minute. Or how it not only builds on its predecessor, but is a complete story while leaving room for another entry. This movie’s a miracle beyond miracles, which says plenty given its predecessor!

While I understand the argument for it deserving the Oscar, I also don’t think that’s an argument against The Boy and the Heron. It too juggles several plot-lines efficiently. And it too doesn’t waste time. It might take longer to get going, but that’s not new for Miyazaki. He likes taking his time fleshing out his characters and worlds. Why’s that a problem?

Personally, I liked Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse more. No disrespect to the master of animation, but it clicked more than The Boy and the Heron, which is held back by the director’s past oeuvre. I also think, with the exception of The Tale of the Princess Kaguya, no Studio Ghibli movie since Spirited Away that was nominated for Best Animated Feature was the best animated movie in that year’s awards. Even then, I include that exception because The LEGO Movie didn’t make the cut.

Nevertheless, I’m happy The Boy and the Heron won the trophy. Not only had it been 21 years and several movies since a Hayao Miyazaki feature had won, but it was the first adult-skewed movie to win. (Let’s not kid ourselves, the movie wasn’t meant for children.) Additionally, the barrier for anime films has gotten stricter since Spirited Away’s win. If you look at how the members of The Academy think, you find many of them are resentful of anime films, especially when one had previously won an Oscar. Like Beauty and the Beast and Best Picture, anime films have much bigger hills to climb.

Truthfully, I think this detracts from a bigger problem, that being how The Academy views animation. Best Animated Feature is a 23 year-old category, created largely because of Chicken Run. It’s also one of the earliest trophies of the night, making way for “more prestigious awards”. Even how the category’s presented feels patronizing, taking a diverse format and handwaving it as a “kid’s art-form”. Putting aside that adult animation exists, why’s that bad? What do people have against kid’s movies?

If the debate between Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse and The Boy and the Heron’s indicative of anything, it’s that The Academy doesn’t fully respect animation. That’s more harmful than discussing which animated movie deserves an Oscar. Doubly-so because animated movies are often worthy of being ranked up with the film greats. The difference between them and live-action is the lack of restraints, and that line blurs as CGI is implemented more frequently. But that’s a conversation people aren’t ready to have…

The Academy should be more open to animation. They can retain Best Animated Feature, but they should also have Best Voice Acting. They also shouldn’t be afraid to nominate animated films for Best Feature. They’ve done it before, after all! By using Best Animated Feature, it not only diminishes animation’s potential, it makes debates about which movie deserved the win more pervasive. And it’s tiresome.

So yes, please stop comparing Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse to The Boy and the Heron. It’s petty and misses the forest for the trees. And if anyone in The Academy’s reading this, I implore you to redefine how you perceive animation. I’m sure you’re sick of the backlash, but it’s prevalent for a good reason. Animation deserves respect, and you’re not giving it that.

Hayao Miyazaki Pontificates

Last time, I ended with the following sentence:

“If you’ll excuse me, The Boy and the Heron recently got added to Netflix...”

Having now rewatched the movie, I can share my thoughts. The Boy and the Heron had a lengthy production history, thanks to Hayao Miyazaki coming out of retirement despite his age. He’s also recently confirmed he’s not done directing, as he plans to keep going as long as he’s able. I’m not sure if that’s gutsy, or foolish. But I digress...

This movie was well-received anyway. It’s Miyazaki’s best-reviewed since Spirited Away, and it won him another Oscar at The Academy Awards. While his worst-received film on IMDB (more on that later), it was also loved by many. However, that’s not my focus. Instead, I’d like to discuss the movie itself. Particularly, what I think it means.

The premise is simple: during WWII, Mahito wakes up to an air raid siren. His mother’s hospital was bombed, and the authorities are unable to save her. Desperate to escape war, Mahito and his father move to the countryside to live with his aunt, whom his father’s expecting a baby with. Mahito’s initially resentful of this, but his life’s upended when a grey heron informs him his mother’s still alive. Curious, Mahito takes the bait to find his aunt, who’s gone missing.

This is a “world within our own” story, like Spirited Away. And like that movie, The Boy and the Heron’s an initial slow burn. It doesn’t expose the main conflict until roughly 45 minutes into its runtime, instead devoting itself to world-building. Little details like Mahito reading a book, or Mahito falling asleep waiting for his dad, feel like padding on initial viewing, but they’re actually crucial character moments. After all, Mahito’s still a kid!

Fortunately, the movie picks up once Mahito enters the world of the dead. From here, we see Miyazaki’s usual, surreal imagery, all in service of the story he’s telling. But what’s that story supposed to be, and how does it enhance the experience? I think this is Miyazaki pontificating on his career and life. He’s looking back on his career and how his youth shaped his adulthood. Essentially, this is the most introspective the director’s ever been.

Perhaps the most obvious aspect’s the visuals. It’s subtle, but many scenes evoke previous works, sometimes multiple. The tower’s a reference to Spirited Away, while Mahito’s interactions with Grand-Uncle in the secret world, as well as its destruction, are a mix of Howl’s Moving Castle and Castle in the Sky. Even the blocks Grand-Uncle gives to Mahito to continue his legacy, the ones uncorrupted by malice, are a reference to Miyazaki’s directorial work. Every moment’s chock-full of references, allowing multiple rewatches to catch them all.

The characters are the same. Mahito’s a stand-in for Miyazaki’s son, whom he had a strained relationship with for decades. Mahito’s mother’s a callback to Miyazaki’s mother, who died in her 70’s after a battle with Tuberculosis, while his father’s a reference to Miyazaki’s often-absent one who manufactured planes. And then there’s the heron. Self-absorbed and often antagonistic, he could be seen as a commentary on the late-Isao Takahata. There are so many interesting characters and side-characters, women included, which makes this a step up in quality from Miyazaki’s previous movie.

The climactic conversation with Mahito’s Grand-Uncle has the most depth thematically. Grand-Uncle, a not-so-subtle insert for Hayao Miyazaki, offers to make Mahito his successor. This parallels the long struggle Studio Ghibli’s had finding an heir, often with no success. That Mahito rejects said offer, only for the world to be destroyed when The Canary King messes with the blocks, highlights that Studio Ghibli, contrary to outsiders, will live and die by Miyazaki’s hands. Considering no one, not even his son, has been able to fill Miyazaki’s shoes, perhaps that’s for the best.

Another detail that drives this pontification home is the music. Joe Hisaishi, longtime collaborator of Hayao Miyazaki, returns, but he doesn’t use his usual restraint. He goes hard on piano motifs, hitting harsh keys, and his background tracks feature plenty of harrowing chorus notes. This is Hisaishi’s darkest and most-somber offering for Studio Ghibli, suggesting that even he knows the studio’s in its twilight years. But it’s effective, and it makes the experience more personal.

Of course, words must be said about the English dub. Anime nerds love trashing dubs for being “inferior”, but, ignoring how this isn’t the 1980’s, that ignores the work that went into the casting. Studio Ghibli regulars like Christian Bale, Willem Dafoe and Mark Hamill get another chance to shine, while newcomers, like Karen Fukuhara and Robert Pattinson, give some of their best work. But Luca Padovan’s Mahito deserves a special mention. Mahito’s not an easy character to voice, but Padovan steps in with ease. Then again, considering this is a NYAV dub, helmed by veterans, none of this is surprising.

There’s plenty to be said about why this movie earned Hayao Miyazaki his second Oscar. As much as I loved Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse more, The Boy and the Heron was a satisfactory win. It’s not only exceptionally well-made, easily Miyazaki’s best since Spirited Away, it’s the most-introspective and weighty of those nominated for Best Animated Feature that year. That’s not to detract from its competition, but the victory was well-deserved. I wish more people on IMDB understood this...

Ultimately, this is another winner from the master of Japanese animation. Is it flawless? No, it can be emotionally-reserved at times. Is it Miyazaki’s best? Again, no. But it’s worth your time, even if you don’t get the references. It’s a beautifully-animated and written movie that ponders real questions about life, including if your life experiences, even the negative ones, are crucial to who you are. That’s something I expected Hayao Miyazaki to pull off, and I applaud him for it!

Ranking Studio Ghibli

I know what you’re thinking: didn’t I do this before? Firstly, good memory. Secondly, that was different. And thirdly, this is a redo of an old post from ScrewAttack that can’t be accessed anymore. Don’t expect this regularly, but let’s get started:

(By the way, spoilers.)

Skip It:

Studio Ghibli doesn’t have many truly bad entries. That’s impressive considering they’ll be turning 40 years old next June. Not even Pixar can boast their track-record of quality, and they’ve been making movies since 1995. That said, the studio does have two stinkers from the same director, who, unfortunately, is also Hayao Miyazaki’s son. It’d be easy to assume that Earwig and the Witch would be “worst Studio Ghibli movie ever”, and there’s good reason for that, but I think Tales From Earthsea’s more frustratingly awful.

A good chunk of why is the lead, Arren. While Earwig can be grating, she doesn’t spend most of her movie being a moody and whiney teenager who can’t crack a smile. That’s not an exaggeration: for nearly 2-hours, Arren’s resting face is a frown. And an insecure one to-boot. This makes it impossible to mine depth from him, as he has no room to emote. The one exception is when he saves Therru from slavers, and even there he’s more unsettling than fun.

Speaking of Therru, she’s no more interesting than Arren. Her English VA can be criticized heavily for being a bad actress, but Therru has nothing to show for it anyway. She tries acting tough around Arren, but she’s one-note emotionally. She’s actually worse considering she spends most of the movie as a damsel in distress, which feels really out of place for Studio Ghibli. Also, her facial “burn” comes across more as a birthmark than parental abuse.

The rest of the cast…is equally bland. Tenar and Sparrowhawk are implied to have a history, but it’s not shown. Sparrowhawk’s touted to be a great wizard, but, again, it’s not shown. Even Sparrowhawk’s history with Cob’s not shown. All of these don’t take advantage of film as a medium, making for a boring experience. It’s a shame because once the opening title appears, everything that could’ve been interesting, including Arren murdering his father and stealing his sword, goes by the wayside.

The movie also doesn’t look interesting visually. Earwig and the Witch is uglier than Toy Story, but I can forgive it because it’s Studio Ghibli’s first fully-CGI feature. Tales From Earthsea, however, is traditionally-animated. Also, Earwig and the Witch has fluid animation, while this movie looks stiff even when it isn’t. For something with a budget of roughly $22 million US, which is plenty for an anime film, that Tales From Earthsea looks like a student film is kind of embarrassing. Doubly-so since Gorô Miyazaki’s an architect, and he knows how to make something aesthetically-pleasing.

The movie itself is a series of missed opportunities and wasted ideas. The concept of dragons barely plays into the experience despite being hyped as important, and you only see them in three short scenes. Cob’s vocal affectations, aside from giving Willem Dafoe a chance to whisper his lines, don’t add to his menace, and he abandons them in the finale anyway. Even using “real names” doesn’t get explored fully. Oh, and the action scenes, however few there are, are bad and short.

I feel awful trashing this movie. After all, Gorô’s next feature was a drastic improvement, and this one has excellent music and spatial geography. It also touches on themes of addiction and corruption, even if neither are really explored. But that’s the problem: it’s wasted potential. It’s like a 2-hour finale of a TV show we haven’t had, leaving a lot implied, but little shown. Sure, the song Therru sings is neat, even if it drags on, but you could save yourself the trouble and listen to it on YouTube. If you’re not a film collector, or a diehard Studio Ghibli fan, then this one’s worth a pass.

Meh:

I’ve shared my thoughts on Isao Takahata’s work before. He was incredibly talented, and his five contributions to Studio Ghibli were all uniquely his. But even a great director has their weakest movie, the one where the pieces don’t quite mesh together. For many, that honour belongs to Pom Poko, a period drama that doubles as a mouthpiece for environmentalism. It’s not my favourite, but for my money his worst debuted five years later. That’s right, I’m talking about My Neighbors the Yamadas.

On the surface, there isn’t much to be lukewarm on. This is a series of vignettes based on a popular comic strip in Japan, all punctuated by haikus. But while funny, and the most experimental Takahata ever was, these skits drag. The movie isn’t so much a movie as a “Best of” collection that SNL used to put out in their heyday, except animated. But while those were roughly an hour, this borders on two.

Again, I feel bad for being harsh. It looks nice visually, evoking the watercolour vibe Takahata would perfect 14 years later. And its skits are funny. The segments tackle topics like cooking dinner, folding laundry and studying a test in ways that feel real, but aren’t real. Enough belly laughs exist for it to have fans, as it’s so different. I’ll admit that I even laugh occasionally.

Nevertheless, its length hurts it. It’s one issue when a movie’s only vignettes. I’ve seen films that excel at this, some animated. But it’s another issue when this format’s way too long. You can’t go any longer than 70-minutes max, unless you know what you’re doing, and My Neighbors the Yamadas is much longer. So while not terrible, it’s not good either.

I also think its setting dates it. It’s true that most Studio Ghibli movies are period pieces, but they still feel universal. This one screams late-90’s in a bad way, right down to Nonoko having a Game Boy. Nothing against Game Boys, but little details like that freeze this in a specific time period. But hey! At least the characters sing “Que Sera, Sera” near the end of its runtime, if only to highlight how mundane the experience is.

Hit-or-Miss:

When it comes to Studio Ghibli movies I’m mixed on, several entries qualify: do I pick Howl’s Moving Castle, which I still find frustrating despite growing on me over time? Maybe Porco Rosso, which I respect more than I love? How about Ocean Waves, a made-for-TV movie that suffers from its condensed length? These are good candidates, but if you want the perfect example, then The Wind Rises is it. Because it truly is hit-or-miss.

On paper, it has several aspects in my favour. For one, it’s a biopic, which I love. Two, it’s a period piece, and I find those fascinating. Three, it’s a WWII movie set in Japan, making it instantly unique. And four, it’s from Hayao Miyazaki, a man who makes good movies. With all that in mind, what could make it hit-or-miss?

The simple answer? Its storytelling. Ignoring how its core message gets diluted as it goes on, Miyazaki isn’t the director for biopics. He bases his movies on storyboards, and I respect that, but a biopic needs a good screenplay too. Miyazaki has plenty of admiration for the late-Jirô Horikoshi, especially given that he’s fond of aviation, but he treats him like a mythical hero. Since Jirô created the planes that bombed Pearl Harbor, that lack of grounding in reality avoids accountability.

Another problem is the pacing. Anime’s notorious for being slow-paced, but this movie’s first hour drags. It only picks up once adult Nahoko appears, as their romance is this movie’s emotional anchor. It’s also its saving grace, giving real stakes to Jirô. Unfortunately, Nahoko’s not in the movie as much as I’d like, being a plot device for a director who, honestly, has done better with writing women.

This movie does a disservice to women in general. Kayo, for instance, is underwritten. She only appears a handful of times, and much of her dialogue involves her berating Jirô. Nahoko’s servant, Kinu, and Jirô’s mother become afterthoughts, while Jirô’s boss’s wife, who officiates Jirô and Nahoko’s wedding, barely has any lines. It feels like this is a male-centric movie, which’d be fine if Miyazaki didn’t have an excellent rapport of female characters.

There are other issues that make this hit-or-miss, including Nahoko’s death being an afterthought and the animation rarely feeling whimsy. But that doesn’t mean The Wind Rises lacks any strengths. It simply means that the movie doesn’t rise to the usual heights Miyazaki’s known for. Still, it earned itself an Oscar nomination, so who knows? Maybe you’ll disagree with me!

Diamond in the Rough:

There aren’t any Studio Ghibli movies I’d consider “underrated”. There are, however, several that are “under-appreciated” or “overlooked”. Hiromasa Yonebayashi’s films for example, deserve more credit, while Ponyo receives undeserved hate. But if we’re talking “cream of the crop” of lesser-known entries, Whisper of the Heart takes the cake. It’s not under-appreciated, but it taps into something only Hayao Miyazaki’s Kiki’s Delivery Service gets at: the creative spirit of youth. And since it’s director Yoshifumi Kondō’s only directorial work, it deserves a closer look.

Whisper of the Heart’s biggest strength is that it’s the studio’s attempt at magical realism and the studio’s attempt at a grounded drama. If Studio Ghibli’s the Japanese-equivalent of Disney, this movie’s the anime film version of a Walden Media/Disney production. It’s really a teenage love story focused on writing and music, albeit with whimsy thrown in for good measure. But it’s that feeling of the otherworldly happening at any minute that sets it apart from even The Cat Returns, its unofficial sequel. That makes it unique.

The real strength here is the relationship Shizuku shares with Seiji. It’s a cliché romance, right down to the two of them initially detesting each other, but it does that in such a way that feels age-appropriate. Shizuku and Seiji are teenagers on the younger end of teenage-hood, so their romance feels less Young Adult and more Romeo and Juliet without the jailbait or tragedy. The two have a real bond that overlaps with their creative passions, and it’s nice to see that play out in an organic manner. Considering how easily this story could’ve felt inauthentic, that alone gives it an edge.

Outside of that, this movie celebrates youthful joy. Particularly, it celebrates optimism through art, whether it be music or writing. Shizuku and Seiji have natural talents they try to nourish, whether it be writing fiction for Shizuku or going to Italy to become a violin maker for Seiji. It’s a nice celebration of the creative spirit that you don’t see often, and I applaud its portrayals of the ups and downs of art. I wish more movies would do that...

The movie’s highlight is the jam session where Mr. Nishi and his friends join in unprompted. Is it silly? Yes. Is it embarrassing? Again, yes. But it’s true to life, as that’s how jamming sessions play out.

Of course, it also doesn’t skimp out on the fantasy aspects of Shizuku’s imagination, which are the highlights of the second-half. Shizuku might be 14 years old, but she has quite the knack for storytelling. This is fully-realized through The Cat Baron segments, where the visuals really flourish. That, when combined with the late-John Denver’s most famous song being the movie’s leitmotif, makes the buildup in the first-half worth it. It’s delightful.

I’ve waffled back-and-forth over whether or not Whisper of the Heart’s a movie for everyone. I don’t think it is, but it speaks to creatives who are young at heart. Because it’s a celebration of youthful naivety pre-adult cynicism, and it’s Kondō’s masterpiece. It’s merely a shame he’d die of a brain aneurysm three years later, as he definitely had one or two more masterpieces left in him had he lived long enough. I also think the movie’s closing line’s too silly even for this, but that’s puppy love!

Bronze:

When it comes to third place, you’d better believe the stakes are high. And there are many titles that could take this spot, including my previous entry. Even with action movies, there are several choices worthy of being #3. Still, I had to come up with something, and this was it. Apologies to fans, but Princess Mononoke is the Bronze entry. (Please don’t hate me.)

It's not like there isn’t an argument to make for this being #1. It’s a fantasy war epic on-par with the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. It tackles environmentalism in a way that doesn’t feel overly-preachy, acknowledging the sensitive balance between nature and humanity. It has excellent music from Joe Hisaishi, arguably his best, and animation techniques that were groundbreaking for 1997. And it’s gory without feeling gratuitous. All of that works in its favour.

My issues aren’t dealbreakers, but they’re enough to hold it back. For one, the movie takes its time, as it has a lot to set up. Two, most of its side-characters blur together. And three, Jigo, the orchestrator of the film’s central conflict, experiences zero consequences. These are glaring enough flaws to slightly diminish my enjoyment.

That’s not to downplay its strengths. I love Ashitaka and San’s relationship, being one of mutual respect and admiration in spite of their quarrels. I love how the animals communicate, something that could’ve easily looked awkward. I also love the action scenes. Hayao Miyazaki might feel more at home with fantastical dramas for family audiences, but he’s a great action director. It shows here.

Lady Eboshi’s also the most-complex antagonist Miyazaki’s ever had. He’s not known for conventionally-threatening baddies, but Eboshi’s exactly that. He prefers layered baddies, and Eboshi’s that too. She’s so multi-faceted and threatening that despite rarely showing her softer side in her face, you see it in how she treats the citizens of Iron Town. It almost makes me wish she hadn’t gotten her arm ripped off by Morro’s decapitated head. Almost.

Princess Mononoke earns its PG-13 rating. It’s violent, but not excessive. It touches on mature themes, but it also treats its audience with respect. It’s unafraid to get heavy, but it’s never too complicated for its target demographic. Even its occasional profanity feels appropriate!

This is a great movie. Is it long? Yes, but it earns that. Is it my favourite action movie? No, but it’s up there. It’s simply fantastic overall, and something I’d recommend to older viewers in a heartbeat.

Silver:

Being the runner-up is no laughing matter here. It not only means you’ve outdone everything below you, but also that you’ve fallen slightly shy of what’s ahead. And this is truly a fantastic movie. So fantastic, in fact, that you should already know it if you’ve read my work. (It’s not like I haven’t already written three pieces on it for The Whitly-Verse!) That’s right, second place goes to Castle in the Sky, the best Star Wars/Indiana Jones knock-off I’ve ever seen.

It's hard to not like this movie, as it has everything you could want: characters who are memorable? Check. Fun, witty dialogue that makes you laugh? Check. Excellent action and music? Check. A deliciously-evil villain named Colonel Muska? Wait, what?!

Yeah, Muska’s the one time a Studio Ghibli antagonist gets to be conventionally evil. He’s not only stylish and cool, but everything he says is memorable. It helps that Mark Hamill hams it up in the Disney dub, using a variant of his trademark Joker laugh in the third-act. Hamill’s notorious for his manic energy, and he lets it loose here. If anything, he’s the reason to watch this dubbed. No joke.

The movie blends goofiness with seriousness expertly. If you should know anything about me, it’s that I’m not a fan of the tonal whiplash found in pulp serials. I find the tones don’t normally mesh well, leaving me confused. But Castle in the Sky sidesteps this by giving you time to absorb the tonal changes. They’re not thrown at you without warning, they’re usually foreshadowed by silence.

Another aspect that I like is the McGuffin chase. Many movies like this have a McGuffin that either feels too grand to pay off, or too small to care about. Laputa has neither of those issues, as we not only spend time exploring it pre-destruction, but we also get personal stakes with Pazu and Sheeta. We care because they care. It makes the inevitable feel much weightier.

Speaking of, this movie knows how to make the familiar fresh and exciting. Castle in the Sky relies on running with clichéd storytelling, including plot-holes that enhance the experience instead of detracting from it. (Why was Pazu’s father called a liar when he had photographic evidence of Laputa?) While these clichés would feel forced with a lesser-storyteller, Miyazaki uses them to his advantage. He does them so well that when Muska’s revealed to be distantly-related to Sheeta, you go along with it instead of rolling your eyes. That’s awesome.

The movie has plenty of really great details too. Like how the 2003 Disney dub brought back Joe Hisaishi to update his synth score, making the new orchestrations the definitive experience. Or how the movie feels like a Saturday morning Disney cartoon, thus making it accessible to Western audiences. Or even how the 2003 Disney dub has added banter that makes the re-release feel barren without it. These are all pluses, and they’re why this movie gets the silver medal.

Gold:

Those who pick this film, the first anime to win an Oscar, start with the same, tired charade: “Call it cliché, call it predictable, but I have no choice! It’s that good!” Truthfully, I’ve been guilty of those words myself before. But it’s true. You knew when I started this that Spirited Away would be the gold entry.

There’s too much to love about this movie, but I’ll share some highlights: Chihiro’s Miyazaki’s most-relatable protagonist. She lacks the magic of Kiki or Sophie, the optimism of Satsuki or Mei and the precociousness of Sōsuke. She’s not a fighter like Nausicaä or Ashitaka, nor can she learn to fight like Mahito. Essentially, she’s a normal, 10 year-old girl. And she’s a whiney brat. But that’s exactly what makes her interesting.

Hayao Miyazaki has never written a protagonist like her before or since. Everything we know about Chihiro comes over time. She doesn’t mature through some grand sense of self-growth, she simply learns to take more responsibility. Yes, she’s doing everything she can, including giving up her name, but it’s in service of helping others. In that sense, she’s the most selfless heroine Miyazaki’s ever put to film.

It helps that every character, even a minor one, is memorable. That’s something Princess Mononoke, bless it, couldn’t quite nail. Even the characters who don’t talk, like the giant heads, are interesting enough to want to know more. That’s the beauty of excellent character writing: even if you’re not important to the story, you’re important to the world around you. And the characters who are important? They’re essential.

This movie’s delightfully bizarre. I’m not a fan of gonzo nonsense for the sake of it, hence I never got into Alice in Wonderland, but Spirited Away makes sure its gonzo nonsense either expands its world-building, or serves the plot. This includes The Stink Spirit, a not-so-subtle commentary on pollution. He’s gross, he creeps people out, and his treatment from Chihiro leads to a medicine ball. This medicine ball’s used to cure both No Face and Haku later on. Everything of note, right down to the little details, has a pay-off moment. Considering that, like I said, Miyazaki works from storyboards, that’s impressive.

I also appreciate the movie’s tender moments. Whether it’s Chihiro crying over her parents while eating rice balls, Chihiro sitting quietly on a train, or Chihiro embracing Haku in the sky once she remembers his name, it’s all as impactful as the loud or frightening moments. This movie’s an emotional roller coaster that hits every beat in the correct order. In fact, Toonami, an action block, even included it in their “A Month of Miyazaki” series. It’s no action movie, but it definitely warranted that honour.

This is what comes to mind when people ask for recommendations. It’s also what pops into my head when I think of accessible anime for a Western audience, as, while seeped in Japanese mythology and iconography, it has something for everyone. It’s got a great story with a powerful message, its characters all endearing, and it isn’t afraid to get trippy. It’s also visually and musically arresting, with plenty of great examples of both. And it’s funny and sad, with moments that’ve made me cry. It’s great all-around, and it’s the best offering that Studio Ghibli has put out.

That about does it for me! If you’ll excuse me, The Boy and the Heron recently got added to Netflix...

10/7 in Reflection

I didn’t want to write this. I shouldn’t have to write this. I’ve been deliberating whether or not sharing my pain is actually helpful, or if it merely makes everything worse. But since this anxiety won’t go away, no matter how much I talk about it with other people, I guess I have no other options. And so, with a deep breath, I’m about to type the hardest and most painful sentence I’ve ever typed for a piece on The Whitly-Verse:

It's been a year since the biggest massacre of Jews in recent memory.

I know that some of you won’t be happy reading that. To that, I simply say, “Too bad!”. You may not like hearing that October 7th, 2023 was a tragedy, but I don’t like remembering it either. That was a Jewish holiday, by the way. It was supposed to be a celebration of the continuity of Torah, and it transformed into a harrowing memory of violence and destruction. People died on October 7th, 2023, often in brutal ways. And yet, despite the initial concern and sympathy globally, the aftermath has seen a resurgent hatred for Jews I never even thought was possible.

Let’s get this cleared up right now: the Palestinian side of this war has already won in the court of public opinion. They won it almost immediately. Right from the get-go, there were already attempts to discredit this massacre online and offline. It only got worse as the days went on, with protests and demonstrations flooding the streets, often in Jewish neighbourhoods. You can argue semantics about whether these were peaceful all day, but the public has already made up its mind.

So I don’t want to hear about how the Palestinian voice “is being silenced”. It’s not. Instead, I’d like for people to actually listen to the Jewish voice. And not the political one that uses Benjamin Netanyahu as its mouthpiece. That’s cowardly to constantly bring up, especially since Netanyahu’s one person. No, I’m talking about listening to the voices of average Jews who’ve been socially ostracized because of a war they didn’t start and never wanted. Listen to them for a change.

I can’t begin to tell you how scared I’ve been since last year. Even ignoring global spikes in Antisemitic incidents, I can’t wear my kippah exposed at work anymore, as it makes me a target for hate. I have to cover it with a baseball cap. I hate wearing baseball caps, as they constrict the blood flow in my head. But you’ve made it dangerous not to.

My social circle has shrunk. I’ve had people I’ve known for years, respected colleagues, stop talking to me because they assume that I want WWIII to happen. I’ve had to sever ties for the sake of my mental health. Even talking about it with people has been hard, as I’ve had to navigate potential landmines. Do you think it’s fun to do that? I don’t!

Even while working, I’ve still felt like I’m always on the defensive. My courier job, which has me interacting with the city, sees me witnessing no-so-subtle messaging attacking me for being Jewish. Kidnapped signs are being ripped down indiscriminately. The war of misinformation is enough to give me a headache, as I see it constantly. It isn’t fun having constant reminders that I’m not valued by much of society.

It also isn’t fun getting into arguments with strangers over this. I don’t want to keep talking “whataboutisms” whenever I bring up October 7th. Yes, I’m not thrilled by the war. No, I don’t think it’s being handled well. Yes, too many of my fellow Jews have become dismissive of civilian casualties, led on by the dissemination of information by news outlets and politicians hungry for attention. But so what? If you can’t acknowledge my pain without distracting from it, then you’re not being helpful in the slightest.

Speaking of which, this idea that October 7th was “justified” is nauseating to listen to. It wasn’t. These might’ve been citizens in a country you despise, but they’re still citizens. One of the hostages was an infant. What did an infant ever do to you? Why are you so scared of him? He can’t even speak yet, let alone fight!

And yet, this is the nonsense I’ve had to endure for a whole year. And the rhetoric itself has been sending me mixed messages. If October 7th was “justified”, then so was Israel’s response. If it wasn’t, then neither was Israel’s response. But you can’t pick and choose which to celebrate and which to condemn. Either be consistent, or stop talking.

There’s so much more I could go on about here. For example, the Antisemitic attacks. The uptick in hate crimes. The fact that university campuses have become the most-dangerous places to be Jewish. That last point especially! I know university kids are still experimenting politically, but if you can drink, drive and vote, then you can be held accountable for your bad behaviour. You’re not a baby. Also, the faculty encouraging you are monsters, plain and simple.

It's been a real eye-opener as to how full of garbage people really are. They claim to be your friends one day, only to turn around and hate you the next. And it’s causing a massive shift of disillusioned Jews toward a politics that, quite frankly, is really dangerous. Because that political structure is at least pretending to care! What excuse do you have to counter this?

I’ll end this here. This is way too painful to keep writing about. But know this: you’re not the friends I thought you were. You don’t care, and you never did. And as the one-year anniversary of a horrible tragedy comes and goes, and the ensuing war continues, I’ll be sure to remember that going forward. You’ve lost my trust, and now you must earn it back. I’m sorry, that’s how this works.