(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.
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.
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...
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