Studio Ghibli Retrospective 3

Part 1 Part 2

VII. Kiki’s Delivery Service

This movie speaks to me in ways many other Studio Ghibli films, not even some of Hayao Miyazaki’s works, don’t. That’s because I’ve lived Kiki’s Delivery Service. My first real job, one I’m still in, was as a courier, so I’ve seen a lot of what she goes through: getting lost during a delivery? Check. Getting caught in bad weather? Check. Dealing with grumpy customers? Check, check, check!

It’s interesting seeing how much of the movie deals with burnout. Kiki starts out optimistic and willing to do what she loves, which is flying. She uses that skill to deliver parcels. Yet as time goes on and the stresses pile up, Kiki starts losing interest and doubts herself. And, naturally, her powers start to fade too. As someone who’s been in that position as a writer, it hits home.

So it’s fitting that the climax, which involves saving Tombo, is about Kiki’s struggle with herself. I’ve heard people say the movie doesn’t have a villain, and I disagree. It may not be literal, but it’s self-doubt. Whenever Kiki doubts herself, that’s when something goes wrong. Even in the climax, where real pressure is on her, her doubt is something she has to fight.

That’s not to say the movie’s a downer, because it’s not. It’s largely cheerful and entertaining, with lots of really cute moments. You get sucked into Kiki’s world, you care for the friends she makes, you really get a glimpse into her life as a teenager struggling to make it. Add in some pleasant orchestrations from Joe Hisaishi, as well as some Japanese bops, and you’re in for a great time. I can’t stress that enough.

But the best part is Kiki’s relationship with her cat, Jiji. Jiji’s as snarky as wise, and his constant banter with Kiki makes the movie work wonders. It almost feels like a buddy movie, except substitute two people with a witch and a feline. And when Jiji stops being able to speak? That hurts.

My connection to Kiki’s Delivery Service has only grown over the years. It’s even gotten me to cry lately, which is something it used to not be able to do. The film had a lot of behind-the-scenes complications in production (it was basically Studio Ghibli’s Ratatouille), but that it worked anyway is amazing. That it’s so personal doesn’t hurt.

VIII. Only Yesterday

Isao Takahata’s second feature-film for Studio Ghibli, this is also his most-intimate. The movie marked a company shift from conventional fantasy to serialized drama, though they’ve flip-flopped between the two modes since. Either way, Only Yesterday, which took forever to come stateside, is basically the ode to 20-somethings that 20-somethings never knew they needed. Like My Neighbor Totoro, it has some of that “Okay Boomer” energy, but whereas that film stayed in the distant world of the countryside, this film divides its time between the country-bumpkin “adult world” and the sentimentally-relatable “child world”. It even has two distinct art-styles to help the audience know which is which.

I wasn’t initially sure what to make of this movie. I knew I liked it fine, but I didn’t have a pulse on why. It was only on re-watch that it clicked. Even now, I find myself appreciating it more and more, and that’s more than I can say for Grave of the Fireflies (which, while technically better, doesn’t click with me as much). That, and it dragging is part of the point this time.

There’s a lot that I can relate to, both on the child and the adult side. For the former, Taeko struggling with math, acting stubborn for no reason and being disappointed after trying a new fruit are all lifted from my own childhood. Conversely, the adult section touches on self-sustainability, the struggle with being single and the fears that come with companionship, all of which I also relate to. And given how adult Taeko’s pretty close to my age, I feel her situation. I understand what drives her, which is strange for someone from another decade. But I guess that’s expected when you’re writing about the mundane.

The music’s also pretty good. Drawing inspiration from Eastern European sources, there are plenty of upbeat and melodic tracks that make for ear candy on top of the eye candy. It’s unusual to have a moment in the countryside be punctuated by Slavic folk melodies, but it works. It makes the experience feel more immediate and sweet. Even the incorporation of “The Rose” at the end, sung in Japanese, is perfectly-suited for it.

Only Yesterday’s a charming, if overlong, experience. It’s longer than Grave of the Fireflies, and in some ways feels it, but that doesn’t detract from its strengths. Like all of Takahata’s films, I won’t say it’s for everyone, nor will I promise you’ll enjoy it, but if you’re willing to try something different, you can settle for worse. It’s quaint.

IX. Porco Rosso

I’ve always considered this my least-favourite Hayao Miyazaki movie. To be fair, it’s grown on me over the years, such that I respect it a lot more now, but even with the admiration it’s never fully won me over. And I think part of that’s because of its weird blend of somber and silly. Unlike Castle in the Sky, which managed the feat perfectly, Porco Rosso is at an awkward crossroads. Should I laugh, cry, or both simultaneously? I’m never sure.

That’s not to say the two components separated don’t work, however. Comedically, this is easily Miyazaki’s best movie. Moments like the sailors making an arrow to guide Porco, or the cruise liner calmly announcing that they’re under attack by seaplane pilots, permeate the film, and they always get a laugh from me. I especially like The Mama Auito Gang, who are this movie’s answer to The Dola Gang. They’re precious, hilarious cinnamon buns.

The movie also knows how to do serious well. The drama, borrowing from Hollywood’s Golden Age, is somber when necessary and romantic when necessary. You have Gina’s lament about her dead husbands, Porco flying over The Hotel Adriano and Porco’s back-story in one movie, and it all works. The only downside is that I’ve never fully been behind Porco’s reason for being a pig, and he’s so nonchalant about it that I have little reason to care. The film wastes a potentially-fascinating plot-point by shrugging its shoulders and not focusing on it, even though it frequently teases it.

It’s the blending of the serious and comedic that causes the movie to stumble, however. Nowhere is this best demonstrated than when Gina chews out Porco for visiting Milan. She reminds him of the stakes involved, but when he turns down her request to come home, which is played as serious, she yells at him and that’s the end of it. No tears, no showing Gina’s reaction, it simply moves on.

Fortunately, Porco Rosso more than excels in its atmosphere. Aside from the backdrops, there are plenty of moments where you get serenaded with lounge/Italian-favoured music, courtesy of Joe Hisaishi. This is a mellow movie, and you’re reminded of that in-between the comedy and the drama. Even in the drama that’s there feels it, like when Porco and Fio escape Piccolo’s shop ala silent era spy thrillers.

I can’t go without mentioning the film’s anti-populist message. Porco’s a bounty hunter in a time period of growing Fascism, and the movie doesn’t shy away from showing that that’s bad. Porco even states that he’d “rather be a pig than a Fascist”, even though his misogyny’s still tolerated. The film doesn’t focus too long on the populism, but it nails it hard when it’s present. And in an age when Fascism’s on the rise again, it feels like Porco Rosso’s more relevant than ever.

I’m in the minority over my frustrations, and I get it. Porco Rosso has an awful lot going for it, including its feminist-friendly themes. It’s smart, it’s well-paced, and it’s never boring. But it doesn’t engross me in the way I’d hoped, especially during its finale. Yet while I might not personally love it, that’s not stopping someone else from considering it a favourite. I wouldn’t be upset about that.

(To be continued.)