cokesque

Synopsis

With their father, ten-year-old Satsuki and five-year-old Mei move to a house in the country to be nearer to the hospital where their mother is being treated for an illness. Their new home is a place of wonders. The house itself is inhabited by thousands of tiny soot sprites, and the surrounding countryside is a home to even stranger creatures.

Impressions

I grew up on a farm. A hundred acres of adventure surrounded me from the moment I could walk. And together with my dogs, I explored every inch of field and forest. By the time I was eleven, my friends and I on our bikes had extended this range to a five-mile radius of fields and creeks and ponds and abandoned houses. Since that time, from pretty much the instant I entered middle school¹, there has been nothing that could recapture that sense of discovery for me. Except My Neighbor Totoro.

I feel like I’m doing the film a disservice by immediately attributing so much of my affection to nostalgia. But to do otherwise would be disengenuous. After all Totoro is precisely about that specific period of childhood when finding tadpoles in a puddle is still a marvelous discovery.

Visually, Totoro is Miyazaki Hayao in his purest form. While he has certainly directed films with higher-quality animation, none of them more exemplifies the Miyazaki attention to detail that makes his characters so real. From Satsuki diligently walking on her knees rather than putting her feet on the floor when she enters the new house, we learn far more about her personality than if Dad had said, “Don’t forget to take off your shoes.” Likewise, Mei’s actions reveal her relationship with her sister as she follows Satsuki around the house, mimicking every move as they search for the attic stairs.

Totoro is a rarity in family movies in many ways. There is no villain, no conflict, no triumph against all odds. Even more exceptional is that the film panders to no one². Young children can focus on Mei and her discovery of the magical Totoros without every feeling patronized. Older kids may relate better to Satsuki, the elder sister who has begun to take on responsibilities but who can still be enchanted by the world around her. And adults can enjoy it on all counts because they have been both ages themselves.

Never does Miyazaki stoop to snide sarcasm or the “mature” jokes so often necessary to make a children’s film bearable for parents. Nor does the film fall back on easy scatalogical humor or bumbling adult characters to attract youthful eyes. Instead, it presents a realistic view of a world we’d all like to live in. And that is enough.

As a film for children, Totoro provides wonders. And like all of the best movies that speak to children, Totoro also whispers in the ears of adults. It’s a secret we remember from some summer long ago, about a trail in the woods that leads to a now-empty clearing where the leaves are still compressed and warm, perhaps from the weight of a gigantic and furry genteel spirit.

Random thoughts

The “waiting for the nekobus” scene in Totoro is quite possibly my favorite scene of any movie.

Notes

¹ That’s the 7th grade around here.

² Okay, I guess it panders to plushie collectors.

Neko Factor

Baka neko, neko basu!

- 2006-01-13 00:07 -