Spirited Away (Japan, 2001)
Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Starring Rumi Hiiragi, Miyu Irino, Mari Natsuki, Bunta Sugawara

When I reviewed Mulholland Drive not so long ago, I commented that it was "one of a very rare breed of films which hold you in such a hypnotic state that your normal critical faculties become temporarily suspended." Films like Lynch's work contain so much of the magic and mystery of cinema that the experience becomes everything, and no matter where it goes, we follow. But this was not the only film from 2001 to achieve such a powerful effect upon its audience.Spirited Away is the culmination of Hayao Miyazaki's extraordinary career, only just edging out over its predecessor, Princess Mononoke. It is a stunningly animated, beautifully told story which reinvents Alice in Wonderland for the 21st century while offering profound insight into Japanese culture and the psychology of growing up. While Princess Mononoke has more ambition in terms of its story, Spirited Away wins out through the sheer power of its emotional appeal.On its simplest level, Spirited Away sees Miyazaki returning to the story and themes of Alice of Wonderland, whose influence can be seen throughout the work of Studio Ghibli. But whereas something like The Cat Returns bore only fleeting similarities, the early sections of Spirited Away are like a direct retuning of Lewis Carroll. Instead of sitting on the river bank being bored at her lesson, Chihiro is sullen in the back of the car, cross with her parents for moving house and taking away all her friends. And instead of falling down a rabbit hole, she wanders through a long tunnel which, in a further fairy tale connection, is found in the middle of a deep, dark wood.

As with Alice, Chihiro drifts into the company of many unusual characters, all of whom in some way misinterpret her purpose in this world (assuming of course that she has one). And many individual scenes or characters play out like Miyazaki's own wry take on Carroll's bizarre fantasy. The sequence of the baby being turned into a fat little mouse is like Alice shrinking after sipping the bottle marked 'Drink Me', while No-Face is a spookier version of The Cheshire Cat, and Yubaba and her twin sister Zeniba fill in for the red and white queens from Through The Looking-Glass.But there is so much more to Spirited Away than a join-the-dots parallel with Alice in Wonderland. For starters, Chihiro is not a conventional protagonist, either in her narrative arc or in the extent to which we empathise with her. Instead of immediately bonding with her, like we would with Nausicaa or Kiki, we initially find her an irritating brat; she is cowardly, prone to sulking and stamps her feet when she doesn't get her way.When her parents are turned into pigs by gorging themselves on the ghostly food, we bond with Chihiro since she is the only human character remaining in this ever-creepier world (at least, until Haku turns up some minutes later). Much like Pan's Labyrinth a few years later, we adopt the viewpoint of the central character so closely that when the fantasy elements are introduced we accept them with open arms and wide eyes. No matter how bizarre, surreal or downright strange Miyazaki's designs become over the next two hours, we remain totally absorbed in Chihiro as a character.Although her overall goal may be to save her parents, Chihiro's arc through Spirited Away is not to be a hero, but to survive. Lost in a world which she has no hope of understanding, she relies on her own judgment in choosing who to trust and when to trust them. She does not enter the world of the gods with the intention of destroying a great villain, with most of her major acts being accidental or having consequences which are unintentional. Sometimes this works out in her favour, in the case of the River God; other times, in the case of No-Face, it almost claims her life.Chihiro's search for her parents is both a literal and a metaphorical one, being bound up with the search for her own identity. When Yubaba allows her to work in the bathhouse, she steals Chihiro's name and begins calling her Sen; Haku warns Sen that unless she remembers her own name, she will be trapped here forever. Chihiro came into the ghost world at a crossroads of her own identity, having been forced to part from her old self with the move. The theft of her name represents the death of her childhood self; she must decide what must be erected in its place, and what role her parents must play in her life after she returns to reality.Just as in Princess Mononoke, the characters in Spirited Away walk a tightrope between good and evil in which our definitions of either do not carry much weight. This is a world in which loyalties are if not constantly shifting then very difficult to pin down; as before, we have to trust our heroine's judgment because her perspective is all we have to go on. The film tricks us beautifully into believing that the friendly can be threatening or vice versa, making something as simple as a paper man be really scary or an eight-armed, spidery mechanic be deeply endearing.This richness and ambiguity make Chihiro's process of self-realisation more compelling, as Miyazaki avoids the painting-by-numbers character development of recent Disney efforts. Her relationship with No-Face in particular is a learning curve in which she learns to adjust her impetuous naivety to something more mature, while retaining her belief in everyone's capacity to do good. Even when No-Face is chasing her while regurgitating black sludge, Sen is motivated less by out-and-out fear than a desire to help him overcome himself even at the cost of her own life. It is this form of sheer selflessness which endears her and which eventually saves her.Just as Mulholland Drive used its characters to examine the nature of filmmaking past and present, so the spirit world of Spirited Away reflects modern-day Japan, looking to its imperial past as it drifts ever more away from it. When Chihiro's parents find the town, they remark it must be an old theme park, saying that many were built before the economic downturn in the early-1990s. The gluttony of her parents reflects the consequences of this downturn and the difference between generations, while the scenes with the River God tap into issues of pollution previously explored in Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind.The design of Spirited Away is staggeringly beautiful, incorporating elements of both hand-drawn animation and CG techniques to reinterpret themes from Miyazaki's previous works. There is the same use of rapid background movement in frames, so that whole cities seem to rush by while Chihiro and Haku rush through the streets in perfect clarity. The film is deeply dreamlike in places, particularly the scenes which take place in or around water and which are complimented by the beautiful score by Joe Hasaishi. But Miyazaki is not just a genius where light is concerned; his darker tones are extraordinary too, from the thick sludge spewed forth by No-Face to the fire that spews from Yubaba's mouth.On top of everything else, Spirited Away is a proper children's film in its accessible and intelligent treatment of themes and characters. Its blend of darkness and light is note-perfect, so although there are many scenes which are creepy or strange, there is more than enough in the way of humour to compensate. In fact, it's surprisingly laugh-out-loud, with the bouncing heads, the balls of soot or the baby-turned-mouse being so adorable that they threaten to steal the show.Spirited Away is a truly astonishing animation which marks the high point in a career of already dizzying heights. Its thematic richness and subtle storytelling are matched only by its impeccable level of craft, with Miyazaki at the top of his game in every respect. Even after a dozen viewings it never fails to work its magic, bringing out the childlike spirit in even the most cold-hearted viewer. It is the Pan's Labyrinth of animation, and nothing more needs to be said.

Rating:
Verdict: The Pan's Labyrinth of animation

Princess Mononoke (Japan, 1997)
Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Starring Yoji Matsuda, Yuriko Ishida, Akihiro Miwa, Yuko Tanaka

When searching for snappy one-liners to compare movies, it's very easy to make a fool of yourself. The Wicker Man is not "the Citizen Kane of horror movies" - not because it isn't great, but because it's not a horror film. The Adjustment Bureau is not "Bourne meets Inception" - because it's a great deal lighter and sillier than either of those. And Princess Mononoke is not "the Star Wars of animation" - because it's arguably a whole lot better than Star Wars.Princess Mononoke is an enchanting, dazzling piece of filmaking, refining and retuning elements from Hayao Miyazaki's previous works while still feeling bracingly original. Its technical perfection in its marriage of hand-drawn and CG animation is matched only by the nuance and vibrancy of its storytelling and the multi-layered subtlety of its themes. It is also the film which finally broke Miyazaki into the West, with John Lasetter of Pixar overseeing the English-language dub.In relation to Miyazaki's back catalogue, the film is closest to his earlier epic, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. Both films depict multiple civilisations at various stages of economic and political development, in the context of a modern world wrestling with the influence of ancient gods and demons. And, of course, both feature female protagonists whose motives and allegiances are not entirely clear-cut. But although it's slightly longer, Princess Mononoke is a much more focussed work. Even when it has to balance multiple story strands which become more and more frantic, it constantly feels like it a film that knows what it is doing and where it is going.

As always with Miyazaki, the visuals are beautiful to behold. But Mononoke is notable for being the first of his works to incorporate elements of CG animation alongside more traditional hand-drawn techniques. Because of Miyazaki's affection for hand-drawn animation, both in its personal touch and its tactility, CGI is employed only very selectively - the most notable example being in the opening battle between Ashitaka and the possessed boar. CG technology is used to animate the demon worms on Ashitaka's forearm, but because they are carefully coloured and only on screen very briefly, you honestly couldn't tell the difference.Although the film is a PG certificate, there are many moments in Princess Mononoke which are dark, creepy or just plain surprising. In its opening minutes a number of people are decapitated by arrows or have their arms shot clean off in the heat of battle. The writhing mass of demon worms which cluster round the boar are reminiscent of Gerald Scarfe's psychotic animations in Pink Floyd - The Wall. In several scenes characters are bleeding or have some form of life-threatening injury - the camera doesn't flinch, and the implication is that neither should we. And then there is the last 30 minutes, of the Deer God turning to the same void-like black sludge of No-Face in Spirited Away, spreading all over the landscape and destroying all that he touches.What these moments hint towards is the emotional maturity of Princess Mononoke. It is a refinement of Nausicaa in its depiction of characters who are morally ambiguous. This is a world without absolute concepts of good and evil, in which ideas of right and wrong exist solely within the minds of its protagonists, some of whom have very limited perspectives. The world is one of complex economy and murky Realpolitik, with alliances being made and broken constantly. Few animated films have so brilliantly captured the reality of modern politics while keeping their fantasy world so seamlessly unique.As well as having several interweaving strands, Princess Mononoke is notable amongst animations for having no central protagonist and no-one who is straightforwardly heroic - which makes The New York Post's comparison with Star Wars all the more redundant. All of the characters believe that what they are doing is right. San is defending the Deer God and the wolves whose spirit inhabits her from the encroaching humans, whom she accuses of unduly destroying the forests. The humans in the ironworks believe that the ancient gods stand in the way of their progress, only turning to them in order to exploit their power and win wars.

Ashitaka, who could be called our lead character, has both a selfish and an existential bent. He is selfish in that he journeys to find a cure for his curse, and has little time to be delayed by the needs of others. But through his many meetings and coming to terms with the force that is consuming him, he comes to realise his place in the universe and atone for what he has done. At the beginning of the film, he is more impulsive and self-centred, allowing his cursed arm to control him at crucial moments; but eventually, through his attachment to others, its power relents and he learns to live with himself.Like Nausicaa before it, Princess Mononoke is an environmental film in its negative depiction of humans' impact on the world around them. But as before, the film makes the point of focussing on attitude as much as action, and by refusing to caricature humanity as purely and inherently evil. The forest creatures may be fighting back against the humans but they are also warring amongst themselves - the wolves versus the boars, the boars versus the monkeys and so forth.In its characterisation of the gods, the film is much more of an allegory of the Renaissance, with people trying to kill or forget 'ancient Gods' to forge ahead and create a new civilisation. Up until the last ten minutes, it is very even-handed, suggesting that while what the humans are doing is destructive, the vengeance of the gods is hardly better, with both sides prone to being headstrong and impulsive. There are also big spiritual overtones to the Deer God's final act. Having regained his head and slaked his wrath, he gives up his spirit to rejuvenating the forest, drawing comparisons with Christ or the story of Noah and the flood.Princess Mononoke continues the trend in Miyazaki's works of equal footing for female characters. Women not only take a more dominant role but their identities are freely accepted, whether at the ironworks or in San's leadership of the wolves. When women claim to be more productive than men and able to defend themselves, Miyazaki resists throwing in a set-piece showing a woman humiliating a man in battle or another such cheap gesture. There is more than enough in the humorous banter between male and female to suggest that these people are not to be messed with, let alone belittled.As if we needed any more convincing, Princess Mononoke has moments of pure fantasy which are absolutely to die for. The sequence of the Deer God dissipating into the Earth and turning the whole land green puts even the heaven sequence in Porco Rosso to shame. The marriage between fantasy and reality is perfect, placing moments of visual magic and poetry in the midst of deep personal conflict. San and Ashitaka do not end up together, at least not romantically, but in view of the magic unfolding they learn to recognise each other's differences and gain mutual respect. San learns to tolerate the existence of humans, while Ashitaka embraces nature, in the hope that the others will follow his example.Princess Mononoke is a pure, undiluted masterpiece and one of the very best films of the 1990s. It is a truly outstanding piece of work, whether visually, thematically or technically. Its execution on every level is note-perfect, addressing complicated and grown-up themes while never shutting out the younger viewer. Most of all, it is a film which proves not only the virtues of animation as a medium, but which demonstrates that animation does not have to be inferior to live-action, either in content or delivery. It is a true masterstroke that will stand the test of time.

Rating: 5/5
Verdict: An animation milestone

Porco Rosso (Japan, 1992)
Directed By Hayao Miyazaki
Starring Shuichiro Moriyama, Akio Otsuka, Tokiko Kate, Tsunehiko Kamijo

With Studio Ghibli films consistently topping the Japanese box office, Hayao Miyazaki could afford to take a few risks. Amid the constant clamour to bring Princess Mononoke to the big screen, he crafted Porco Rosso, a notable departure from the themes and characterisations of his previous work. But despite its more male-oriented storyline and realistic backdrop, it remains every bit as magical as the master's more direct dabbles in fantasy.Porco Rosso began life as a short promotional film funded by Japan Airlines. As the production grew, the airline continued to fund it and gave it in-flight distribution long before its theatrical release; in spite of this, it was still the highest grossing film in Japan that year. The legacy of the airline's involvement can be seen in the opening sequence, which lists the title and key cast members in ten languages.

Porco Rosso is a marriage between two related tropes or motifs in Miyazaki's work. On the one hand, the film is a tribute to European war films and the Hollywood romances of the 1940s, containing strong references to Casablanca and A Matter of Life and Death. On the other hand, the film contains Miyazaki's own perspectives on war, honour and gender equality, held together by his continued obsession with flight. The film was originally going to be set in Croatia, but was altered to fascist Italy and made darker following the outbreak of war in Yugoslavia.Like all of Miyazaki's work, the design of Porco Rosso is fantastic. The lovingly hand-crafted feel of the old-fashioned aeroplanes and the pilots' paraphernalia is immensely detailed, making even the most ridiculous of machines feel grounded in reality. The animation is much more kinetic than Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, so that while the flying sequences retain a poetry and grace, they are also a lot more exciting. The fly-by sequences, with the planes swooping low and causing chaos, are particularly well-executed so that they don't feel choreographed.

From a more narrative point of view, the great success of Porco Rosso is its ability to turn the most hackneyed elements of wartime romances into something new and interesting while simultaneously paying homage to these stories. Although the character of Marco is clearly inspired by Humphrey Bogart, you never get the sense of the film's creativity being held back by a need to be respectful to these archetypes. This is in stark contrast to Dreamworks, whose affection for old Hollywood and more adult movies frequently stifles the initial creative spark of their films.There are any number of scenes or elements in Porco Rosso which inject an air of surprise or unpredictability into familiar characters. The most obvious is the fairy tale element at the centre: the main character is a pig, but the rest of the cast accept his nature like he has been that way forever. There is a certain amount of prejudice that goes with Marco's nature, but this is more along the lines of racist epithets than sardonic, Pirandello-esque commentary.

Likewise, when the schoolchildren are kidnapped in the opening set-piece, they treat it as an adventure, causing havoc on the pirates' ship and willingly jumping overboard when it is forced to land (one of them explains that they are all part of the school swimming team). The central romance between Marco and Gina is only hinted at, and the ending on these grounds is surprising: as with Casablanca, their romance is not so much consummated as left hanging on an uncertain, slightly bittersweet note.All of these careful decisions mean that the film can get away with some of its more unusual creative choices. The build-up to the final showdown between Marco and Douglas is immense, leading us to expect a highly tense dogfight and a breath-taking climax involving burning planes and crash landings. But although this set-piece is dramatic, it isn't climactic in the traditional sense. There are dogfights and one huge belly laugh when Douglas gets hit by a spanner, but otherwise it's an internalised battle of wits with no real resort to spectacle.In any other film, such an approach would feel like a massive let-down - and considering Miyazaki's running theme of pacifism, it seems like an odd thing to build towards. Likewise, the ending of the showdown, in which Douglas and Marco have an improvised boxing match in the middle of the sea, could feel like the director resorting to violence to disguise the plot running out of steam. But somehow, neither of these things transpires. By the point at which we are blindsided by these events, we have become so lost in the wonder of Miyazaki that even the most outlandish decisions make a crazy sort of sense.Where much of Miyazaki's work has drawn inspiration from Alice in Wonderland or The Wizard of Oz, Porco Rosso bears a much closer resemblance to Biggles, Tintin or the boys-own adventure comics which inspired Indiana Jones. The male characters in particular are have-a-go heroes who dice with death on a daily basis, gallivanting all over the sea to fight with pirates and be back in time for tea and medals. This is present even in the title: 'crimson pig' could easily pass as an alternative nickname for The Red Baron.

But where other have embraced the nostalgic appeal of fighter pilots in and of itself, Porco Rosso places their breezy antics on an ever-darkening political landscape. The Mickey Mouse short which heralds the golden age of Hollywood by its reference to King Kong is counterpointed by Italy's gradual descent into fascism and the impact it has on both Marco and the pirates. Both sides find themselves increasingly obsolete in the new Italy, with their flamboyance and showmanship at odds with the cold harsh militarism of the mafia and fascist police.The film is also about challenging prejudice, not just with respect to Marco but to the wartime role of women. All the factory workers rebuilding Marco's plane are women, who not only retain their feminine features (e.g. working in dresses) but can do the job just as well as the men - as well as having better manners and actually taking baths, in marked contrast to the pirates. The character of Fio, who redesigns Marco's plane and becomes his mechanic, is every bit as independent and graceful as Nausicaa, and like Nausicaa her relationships with men are not governed primarily by sexual attraction.If all that wasn't enough, there is a fantasy sequence in Porco Rosso which is worth the price of admission alone. Having been chased by fascist pilots, Marco passes out and climbs above the clouds until he reaches a "cloud prairie" with no-one else around. Soon other planes, with their rotors no longer turning, rise out of the clouds and float up to join a belt of planes above. We realise we are seeing the afterlife of pilots, whose spirits live on to endlessly circle the skies. It's a really powerful, heart-in-mouth image which calls to mind W. B. Yeats' poem An Irish Airman Foresees His Death: there is the same sense of elegiac resignation in the fate of the pilots, who leave the horrors of the Earth behind to float forever in the skies they loved.Porco Rosso is a brilliant film and one of the very best of Miyazaki's career. It isn't quite a masterpiece, since it is slightly too long and like Howl's Moving Castle years later it is occasionally too wrapped up in its own whimsy. But those are small and forgivable flaws in what is otherwise one of the most enjoyable, magical and vibrant films of the 1990s, from a director on the cusp of true greatness with Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away.

Rating: 4.5/5
Verdict: A soaring work of brilliance

Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind (Japan, 1984)
Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Starring Sumi Shimamoto, Goro Naya, Ichiro Nagai, Hisako Kyoda

No-one could ever accuse Hayao Miyazaki of aiming low. His second full-length feature, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, is a hugely ambitious epic combining environmentalism, gender politics and the respective ethics of war and pacifism. And while like so many epics it is ultimately loose and sprawling, it contains all the classic ingredients which have made him the godfather of modern Japanese animation.The first and most obvious of these ingredients is the animation itself. Although it might not have the bright, glossy sheen of Miyazaki's more recent offerings, there can be no denying that Nausicaa looks fantastic. The detail in every frame is immaculate, accurately capturing every changing hue in the ohmu's eyes or every strand of the princess' billowing hair. The colour scheme blends pale pastel shades for the Valley of the Wind with the ethereal blues of the underground forest and the sharper, more metallic tones of the ohmu and aeroplanes.What makes Miyazaki's animation distinctive is his ability to make the beautiful seem creepy and vice versa without any real change in physical composition. What we initially view as being inherently malicious or horrid (like the charging ohmu) eventually reveal themselves as being good-natured, albeit easily led. Likewise when the Tolmekians arrive, their advanced technology and regal uniforms lead them to appear benevolent and civilised. But long before the Giant Warrior has been prematurely raised, we understand where their loyalties and intentions truly lie.There are a number of through-lines in Nausicaa to Miyazaki's later, better works. As in Princess Mononoke, the central protagonist is a woman who defies traditional gender roles, a pacifist who hates bloodshed but is willing to fight to the death to protect her people. Both films also feature a domineering matriarch seeking to use the power of ancient gods for world domination. And like Porco Rosso, the film sees Miyazaki playing out his obsession with flight, giving us amazing flying machines and jet-powered gliders whose designs are enough to take one's breath away.Like so much of Miyazaki's work, there are clear hints of Western film and literature in the story and characters of Nausicaa. But where later works would draw heavily on Alice in Wonderland or The Wizard of Oz, the biggest influence in this case is the original Star Wars trilogy. The opening section, with Nausicaa wandering through the murky forest in her strange mask, recalls the mynocks sequence in The Empire Strikes Back. The design of the Pejitan ship bears a striking resemblance to Jabba's cruise vessel during the sarlacc scenes in Return of the Jedi. And Lady Kushana, with her high neckbrace and bionic limbs, is a clear stand-in for Darth Vader.Despite these prominent overtones of space opera, Nausicaa is much less Star Wars than Silent Running when it comes to its themes and substance. The film is a brilliantly subtle look at environmental politics and the human impact on nature. Aside from making more general points about the need for humans and nature to live side by side and depend upon each other, it insightfully comments on Man's ability to misinterpret His surroundings in a way which is calamitous for both sides.

The thrust of Nausicaa is not so much that humans exploit their surroundings, but that they misunderstand them. The film makes no bones about humans being the cause of the Sea of Decay, but it doesn't simply condemn the existing foundations of civilisation and lay out an unrealistic alternative. On the one hand, we are shown that none of the races in this future are safe from the Sea of Decay: even the Valley of the Wind, with its seeming harmony and economy of nature, is rooted in the same toxic soil that covers the whole earth. On the other hand, there is the underground, non-toxic forest in the middle of the Sea of Decay. This symbolises the ability in nature and in humans for something good to come out of the most evil and toxic of places.The film argues that the means of judgement humans employ and the attitudes they take in doing so are every bit as important as the actual actions they take. The problem is not humans using or developing technology, whether windmills or weapons; it is the ends which they serve and the methods of thinking which such decisions cultivate. Lady Kushana's attempts to use the Giant Warrior to fight off the ohmu and the Sea of Decay may be motivated by moral reasons, at least initially. But her efforts are ultimately in vain because they become driven not only by selfish political gain but an ignorance of the true nature of the environment and the insects that inhabit it.Although the film is set in a post-apocalyptic future, the culture of Nausicaa is a blend of mediaeval and modern in terms of its design. The film counterpoints the sedentary lifestyle of the peasant communities in the Valley of the Wind with the WWI-like uniforms worn by the Tolmekian army. In addition to the universal environmental issues facing humanity, we have societies progressing through different stages of economic development, and their attitudes towards their surroundings change. Those in the Valley of the Wind utilise nature without manipulating it, while the Tolmekians use their planes and weapons to brush aside any aspect which opposes them.

In amongst all this cutting social and political analysis, we have a series of believable relationships which anchor the themes of the film. The 'romance' between Princess Nausicaa and Asbel never feels contrived and does not follow the predictable course of the male and female protagonists in other such films (Ferngully especially). Like all Miyazaki's works there is an inherent respect for both woman and the elderly, both of whom demonstrate their resilience and usefulness at key points in the storyline. The supporting cast are all believable, with even the smallest of characters feeling or at least appearing distinctive.There are, a couple of flaws with Nausicaa, one contextual and one general. The contextual flaw is the soundtrack, which comprises keyboard or synth-based dance pop that never gels with the main action sequences. Rather like Giorgio Moroder's restructuring of Metropolis, the addition of 1980s keyboard instrumentals to the flying sequences detracts from what we are seeing rather than enhance it, and this is is the one aspect of Nausicaa that hasn't dated well.The more general complaint is one of narrative structure. In the last half hour the film is cutting between so many different aspects of the final confrontation that the plot becomes a bit too much of a jumble. We can just about follow what is going on, but we have to balance so much that all the potentially impressive sequences sort of pass us by. The death of the Giant Warrior, which resembles Ctuhlu from the work of H. P. Lovecraft, is only on screen for a couple of minutes, and its death seems rather too hasty considering the huge amount of build-up.Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind is a very good, brilliantly-made film which hints at the future greatness of Miyazaki as both a storyteller and animator. Despite its narrative shortcomings and dated soundtrack, it is every bit as visually ravishing as it was 27 years ago, and its thematic richness is plain for all to see. It's not Princess Mononoke, or Spirited Away, but it is an entertaining and enlightening introduction to a truly magical career.

Rating: 4/5
Verdict: Sprawling yet satisfying

The Cat Returns (Japan, 2002)
Directed by Hiroyuki Morita
Starring Chizuru Ikewaki, Yoshihiko Hakamada, Tetsu Watanabe, Yosuke Saito

The critical and commercial rapture surrounding Spirited Away introduced a new wave of audiences to the work of Studio Ghibli. This in turn led to a whirlwind of re-releases and the creation of English language dubs of Hayao Miyazaki's back catalogue (some of which were supervised by Pixar's John Lasseter). But even as all this was occurring, films like The Cat Returns were demonstrating that quality animation could still be produced even without the master at the wheel.The Cat Returns is a really great children's animation which, though lighter in both tone and scope than Miyazaki's work, is still gripping, magical and laugh-out-loud funny. In a marketplace dominated by fare which is often depressingly anodyne, it is the equivalent of a stiff breeze that blows through a room after someone has slammed a door. Even in its weaker moments there is more than enough for both children and adults to revel in, and the viewing experience is intensely memorable.If one takes a cursory look at contemporary Japanese and Western animation, it doesn't take long to spot the major factor which divides them. The majority of mainstream Western animation is geared against both childhood and childlikeness. The work of Dreamworks in particular seeks to appeal to adults on a different or higher level, patronising the children watching and asking them to grow up quicker so they can appreciate in-jokes about The Godfather. The progression of the Shrek series from edgy Disney satire to cynical cash cow is ample demonstration of this.Japanese animation, on the other hand, tends to revel in the wonders and magic associated with childhood. It doesn't by and large infantilise its audience, by claiming that everything about childhood is perfect or infinitely more desirable than being an adult. But the characterisation of children, particularly as they undergo some kind of development, feels so much more honest and genuine. Hiroyuki Morita and his affiliates know how to nail that sense of childlike curiosity and fearlessness which is so difficult to find in a live-action performance.The Cat Returns has several clear similarities to Miyazaki in terms of its storyline and its relationship to various works of Western literature. Both this and Spirited Away are to some extent reinterpretations of Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz, in that they focus on the magical and often surreal adventures of a young girl who gets lost in a world that she does not understand. The anthropomorphism of Alice carries over strongly into The Cat Returns, giving us not only talking cats but talking ravens too.If anything, however, the Oz references are even stronger. The scene of Haru lying in the fields of catkin, slowly drifting off and not wanting to leave, recalls the scene in both the book and the film of Dorothy wilting in the field of deadly poppies. The plot revolves around a deranged and maniacal king with sinister intentions whose physical presence is both intimidating and ridiculous. And as things reach a climax, there are darker and edgier scenes involving decapitation (although, being a U certificate, there is no real violence shown on screen).

But although The Cat Returns is by no means the most original story ever told, it does tell its story remarkably well with a very strong moral thread. At the centre of an increasingly bizarre turn of events is a desire of individuals and particularly young girls to define their own path in life, to embrace their own identity and not to base their every decision on the desires or attitudes of others. In the midst of so many films, from Sex and the City to Bratz: The Movie, which promote vapid and soulless views of modern womanhood, here is a film which genuinely embraces female independence without falling into the trap of lecturing its target audience.Quite apart from anything else, the characters in The Cat Returns do not feel like the mouthpieces of a disillusioned feminist champing at the bit. When we are first introduced to Haru, she is a lonely young girl who is subject to bullying at school, has few friends and lives slightly in the shadow of her mother. Her life appears to have little in the way of purpose or direction, save for a fruitless crush on the local jock. Most of us can relate to her predicament - at the very least we have all had a short phase of shyness around others we are trying to impress, romantically or otherwise.

As in Spirited Away, the central device of The Cat Returns is a subliminal or dreamlike experience causing or having an impact on the real-world development of the young protagonist. As with so much of Miyazaki's work, if you wrote out the plot of this film and attempted to assess it with a straight face, you won't get very far. The film operates on the same logic that Alice does: everything works, but to explain and rationalise it is to suck out all that is fun and enticing.The journey that Haru undergoes contains a number of bizarre or elaborate developments which threaten to pull the film head-first into outright silliness. If we accept the existence of a cat bureau that deals with all things cat-related and is run by a cat called the Baron, who wears a suit and has a German name, we still have to contend with a secret kingdom hidden through a portal under a lake with its own skewed hierarchy and customs. But for all the moments in The Cat Returns that are absurd or inexplicable, there is an undying focus on Haru's personal struggle which keeps us grounded and allows us to embrace even the strangest goings-on.Having presented us with a relatively complex parallel world, the film could so easily fall into the trap of A Kid in King Arthur's Court, namely pointing out all the differences between the worlds for the sake of a brief gag. But again, Morita holds his nerve, keeping Haru in our frame of mind even during the most outlandish set-pieces. The maze sequence, which contains nods to Jim Henson's Labyrinth, could easily descend into padding to buy the animators time. But instead it becomes an effective way of demonstrating Haru's intelligence and resilience which, combined with self-belief, are the qualities that eventually redeem her.On top of all this, The Cat Returns is genuinely charming and sweet. Morita's designs are warm and inviting without ever becoming overbearing. The colour schemes are full and the smiles wide so that every character seems inviting even if their motives are suspect. There is not a single cat which feels like it was lifted from a stock drawing and plonked idly in the background to make up the numbers, and the final sequence involving Haru walking on the backs of ravens is really something. This level of craft leads to a unified admiration of the film, so that even the bootlicker Natoru is completely adorable.While The Cat Returns is not the finest or most substantial offering to emerge from Studio Ghibli, it deserves undiluted praise for approaching its subject and storyline with such gusto, charm and conviction. It is beautifully animated, has a cast of genuine and believable characters, and a level of laugh-out-loud alacrity which allows us to forgive all but the most obvious moments of contrived sentimentality. In the end it is Miyazaki-lite and won't date as well as Spirited Away, but you would be hard-pushed to find a more entertaining 72 minutes in recent animation.

Rating: 4.5/5
Verdict: A genuinely charming children's animation