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Film: Tales From Earthsea
Release date: 28th January 2008
Certificate: PG
Running time: 110 mins
Director: Goro Miyazaki
Starring: Junichi Okada, Aoi Teshima, Bunta Sugawara, Yûko Tanaka, Teruyuki Kagawa
Genre: Anime
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Many have courted Ursula Le Guin for the rights to create a film out of her collection of fantasy stories about wizards and dragons from the land known as Earthsea, yet only Hayao Miyazaki was granted this honour. However, the anime director was busy working on another adaptive work, Howl’s Moving Castle, so, on behalf of Studio Ghibli, the challenge was taken up by his son, Gorō Miyazaki, for his directorial debut.
The captain of a boat caught in the midst of a ferocious storm summons his weatherworker to calm the tempest, yet the mage, upon arrival on deck, realises he no longer remembers the true names of the elements to control them. Yet his disposition becomes increasingly concerned when from the sky two dragons emerge fighting each other. The weatherworker claims that dragons fighting each other is an impossibility, but must look on helplessly as one falls slain into the ocean below.
The king, informed of the happening, is equally puzzled and concerned, while he must also deal with the unnatural drought and disease that is sweeping through his domain. He asks his wizard to look into the problem. The wizard suggests 'the balance' is enervating, before recounting how men and dragons were once one, until men, who desired possessions, took the earth and sea, while those who craved their freedom over everything else took fire and air and became the winged creatures.
After being warned of his son’s suspicious and unusual behaviour, the king leaves his advisors to attend to his correspondents and, in a darkened corridor, is attacked by Prince Arren, who kills him and steals his sword before fleeing into the night. Shortly thereafter, we see the young prince fleeing a band of wolves in the desert. Unable to release the sword from its sheath, and without a steed to escape, he awaits his death, while a mysterious cloaked figure watches the melee…
It is easy to understand why so many have been interested in putting the author’s magical world onto the big screen. With twelve stories, of varying lengths, to amalgamate a plot from, coupled with a vast array of mythical creatures and magical schools to explore and utilise, it should whet the appetite of any creative mind. That Studio Ghibli should be the ones Le Guin chose as the recipients of her endorsement, again, is logical, as few other anime studios have shown such imagination and fantastical ingenuity in this particular genre. However, what was unprecedented was that Hayao Miyazaki, who had expressed interest in creating an animated version ever since his first production of Nausicaa in 1984, should forgo such an opportunity. Instead of waiting until the completion of Howl’s Moving Castle, he gave his son the opportunity to prove his worth. While Tales From Earthsea harbours many of the key ingredients one comes to expect from a Ghibli production, it also contains a few worrying additions as well.
With so many of the production members at Ghibli involved with the senior Miyazaki’s work, Gorō’s direction, without an elderly statesman to guide him, veers from one extreme to the other. He has inherited his father’s eye for the cinematic, as the sweeping scenescapes are grandiose, lavish, with vibrant and unusual colours supported by a suitably evocative Celtic score from Tamiya Terashima. Yet, perhaps due to the restricted budget Gorō had to operate with, the detail of the characters, and the landscape in sequences not devoted to the panoramic, are neither as crisp nor as refined as other Ghibli works. While certain aspects are not solely the director’s fault, it is unavoidable comparisons will be drawn, spoilt as we have been by the animation studio.
Where Gorō perhaps needed aide more than any other area is in compressing such a vast quantity of detail into an accessible and plausibly engaging script. As Le Guin’s world is an ever-evolving, interlinked sequence of tales, with each leading into and referencing another, Gorō has borrowed bits and pieces from various segments and mixed them together with the basic plot from The Farthest Shore, the series’ third instalment. What results in purely cinematic terms is a garbled mess of characters who recite passages with no justification or background as to why they are being said or what motivates them. This chopping and changing of method with madness leaves a narrative that stagnates and characters that are not allowed to flourish. There is never a continuing thread that runs throughout Tales From Earthsea, so it lacks continuity. Too much is posed to the viewer then left unfulfilled, or unexplained. Why does Prince Arren suffer from lapses in control of his body? Who or what is his doppelganger? Why and how do the characters that come into contact with each other know each other? What is Sparrowhawk’s history?
With adaptations, the director must assume that no one knows of any prior media’s existence, and work solely on the premise that his is the only format the viewing public is aware of. If audience members are left to wonder what on middle-earth just happened, it is impossible to conclude anything other than failure.
Because of the fusion of too many of the stories from the Earthsea novelised saga, too much is lost and not enough is concise in being able to drive forward the narrative or any character development. Individuals are presented and never expanded upon, or allowed to grow into more than the sum of their parts, mainly because we’re not privy as to what their goals are, or what it is they wish to achieve. Arren’s relationship with the mysterious girl Therru should be the emotional driving force of the film, yet due to a lack of focus, the relationship is devoid of the sentimentality required to stir the audience. The central sixty minutes, which should be the cornerstone for creating and resolving internal conflict, or where we begin to see individuals’ emotions and feelings fluctuate as they charge resolutely toward their target, merely screens as a turgid exercise in narcolepsy.
It is harsh to be overly critical of a director on debut, and perhaps, as Ursula Le Guin suggests, this is the result of too much responsibility being shouldered by “someone not equipped for it." The Earthsea chronicles are vast and heavily interlocked with history and detail that cinema cannot hope to compress into two. There is plenty to suggest Gorō has talent, particularly in the magical action sequences, which flow excellently with a sense of menace and visual spellbinding. However, this style cannot hope to compensate for the gaping lack of substance in those created to engage the audience. Gorō was left to the wolves in this regard. With no guiding hand and too much source material to trawl through to develop an engaging narrative, too much was expected of such a young man, and in the critical aftermath of this film, too many have distanced themselves from him. The studio, as a whole, should accept responsibility for the failings of Tales From Earthsea, particularly producer Toshio Suzuki (who recommended him for the post), yet it is Gorō’s credibility that remains tarnished; dubiously earning himself the Worst Director and Worst Director awards at Japan's Bunshun Kiichigo Awards (Japan's version of the Golden Raspberry Awards) for this ramshackle outing.
While Tales From Earthsea is not as bad as many have made it out to be, with sufficient material to sate the fantasy enthusiasts and the Ghibli fan-base, events have conspired against the young Miyazaki. His father, Hayao Miyazaki, walked out of the initial screening halfway through to much publicity, before the author Ursula Le Guin commented that the adaptation had been a disappointment. While there is plenty at fault with Tales From Earthsea, from clunky direction that fails to provide coherency to confused and often-lifeless characters, it is because of whom Goro is son of, and not the cinematic deficiencies, that many are unfairly hypercritical of this Ghibli entry. BL
Film: 5 Centimeters Per Second
Release date: 28th March 2011
Certificate: U
Running time: 60 mins
Director: Makoto Shinkai
Starring: Kenji Mizuhashi, Yoshimi Kondou, Satomi Hanamura, Ayaka Onoue
Genre: Manga
Studio: Anime
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
From the director who created the acclaimed Voices Of A Distant Star and The Place Promised In Our Early Days, Makoto Shinkai’s latest work, 5 Centimeters Per Second, is a short film on the lives of three high school teenagers and the hope, desire, pitfalls and woes of everyday life and young love. Split into three episodic segments, we follow the three characters as they grow physically and emotionally from students into adults.
In slightly non-linear fashion, we are introduced to the lives of Takaki and Akari, two close young friends who are often picked on at school by their classmates for the obvious intimacy of their friendship. However, the duo’s lives are altered when Akari’s parents move away from Tokyo far into the countryside, leaving them both isolated in their respective schools.
Set in the early 1990s, the two regularly communicate through letters, narrated by the respective writer for the viewer, until Takaki also comes to learn that his parents will be leaving Tokyo also, but in the other direction from Akari, making it almost impossible for them to ever see each other again.
Takaki, in his last week in Tokyo, decides he will visit Akari, so takes the lengthy journey to visit her via train. However, a severe snowstorm delays his progress, and he ends up losing the letter he wrote for her, which expressed everything that he feels. Arriving at the remote station four hours later than planned, he wonders if Akari is still waiting for him, while we wait to see if they can keep in contact as their lives slowly progress in their new schools...
Makoto Shinaki’s latest creation is an understated and delicate contemplation on not simply young love, but the nature of human relationships as a whole. He is primarily focused with the passage of time; how it can manipulate our views and emotions, and how it can seemingly veer between the languid and the rapid. Five Centimeters Per Second, mentioned in the film’s introductory scene, is the speed at which cherry blossom petals fall towards the ground, and throughout the course of this creation, speed and distance is continually commented on.
The first chapter, 'Cherry Blossom', follows the young teenagers as they come to terms with their increased distance and how they still keep in touch due to their attachment to each other. The petals that fall from the cherry blossom tree that Akari is so enamoured with represents their fledgling partnership; how what once was together ends up being separated and drifting apart. While, when Takaki comes to visit her on the train, the delay, while only being four hours, comparatively feels like an eternity for Takaki. His anxiousness increases and his emotions betray him as he breaks down after losing the letter he wrote for her detailing his feelings. While the delay and passage of time in this sequence may be one of the shortest in the film, it highlights the relative nature of time to his situation where every lost second of time may cost him a moment in life. What is more remarkable is the lack of honorifics used by Takaki and Akari when addressing each other, which is a rarity not often heard in modern day Japan, even by those who are in love. This small but notable detail is used to further hammer home the closeness of the relationship, and how important each is to one another.
The remaining two chapters complete the contrasting ideologies of the characters. Kanae is introduced in the second episode, 'Cosmonaut', as a girl in Takaki’s class who harbours great affection and love for him. Shinkai remarks on the differences of looking toward the future knowingly with a set plan to your actions, and being able to take each day as it comes. Despite a school program to encourage the students to develop ideas as to what they want to be when they grow older, Kanae remains devoid of any future ambition. She wishes to live each day as its own, adapting and acclimatising to the ever-changing circumstances that life has to offer, while Takaki is firm in his desire to return to Tokyo in the future, yet whether or not his ability to look to the future is rooted in his past is questioned.
Makoto Shinkai is often hailed as “the new Miyazaki” by critics, a claim which the director himself disputes, and cites as being an “over exaggeration,” yet his statement that his favourite film is Miyazaki’s own Laputa: Castle In The Sky only continues to pour more fuel onto the fire. However, while to label a director with such a hefty mantle can seem too much of a burden, the title seems misplaced because in many regards Makoto Shinkai has surpassed the master, and warrants recognition of his own. 5 Centimeters Per Second lacks the science fiction and fantasy elements that made his two previous standout films (Voices Of A Distant Star and The Place Promised in Our Early Days) successes, so as a result, it is entirely dependent on the believability of the protagonists’ interactions and emotions. Shinkai is able to create such unrivalled warmth in his characters; his sparse use of dialogue coupled with the real world struggles and concerns allows the viewer to relate their own experiences to the pictures onscreen. If you look at the films Miyazaki has created where he cannot call upon fantastical elements to drive the narrative, such as Whisper Of The Heart, he is unable to convey, with such limited narrative tools, the same heart-melting warmth and gut-wrenching sadness that Shinkai has achieved. Shinkai targets the very essence of human interaction, and is able to pierce our hearts with poignantly deep, detailed and genuine feelings.
Armed with an evocative score by Tenmon that rivals any of Joe Hisashi's works, the animation is nothing short of jaw dropping. The attention to the most minute of details, from coffee stains on paper through to the cherry blossom leaves falling in Japan’s capital, results in drawings that are smooth, soft and superb, mirroring the delicacy and intimacy of the lives of our struggling characters.
5 Centimeters Per Second is a sensitive and tender tale that looks at love from both sides of the coin. From coping with the isolation of existence, and having to traverse life, lonely, desperately seeking that special person, to the life-changing joy and unmitigated wonder it can bring someone; Shinkai’s latest creation is one of the most personable anime one could ever hope to watch.
With a universal topic that everyone can relate to, 5 Centimeters Per Second moves the viewer with a sombre and painstakingly accurate account of emotion. 5 Centimeters Per Second is sixty minutes of exceptional cinema. BL
Film: Fata Morgana
Running time: 79 mins
Director: Werner Herzog
Starring: Lotte Eisner
Genre: Drama/Sci-Fi
Country: West Germany
This film is available as part of the Werner Herzog Box Set 2, but has also been released as a bonus DVD with Herzog’s Lessons Of Darkness.
Existing in cinematic terms somewhere between 2001: A Space Odyssey and Koyaanisqatsi, Werner Herzog’s Fata Morgana is an ontologically metaphysical trek through the Sahara. Armed with only a camera, Herzog utilises his pitifully shoestring budget to capture a series of short thematically linked sequences in unashamedly surreal fashion as he blurs the line between documentary and science fiction in a typically cynical manner.
Fata Morgana opens with a lengthy vignette: a montage of planes coming into land at an unidentified airport in North Africa. The cycle of aircraft landing continues for roughly ten minutes, as the fumes emitted from these lumbering craft is seemingly layered one on top of the other in a pollution collage.
After the cessation of the landing segment, the viewer is catapulted into the crux of Herzog’s creation. Bracketed into three separate subsections - creation, paradise and the golden age, respectively - the director journeys through the Sahara desert collecting a variety of visual compositions, from widescreen landscaping through to hand-held footage of human existence.
The scenes interchange between panoramic vistas of the desert to snippets of the creatures, humans, debris and isolated vastness that the Sahara has to offer. As the film progresses through the three chapters and reveals its ethereal nature, German historian Lotte Eisner recites passages from the ancient Mayan creational text the Popol Vuh…
Derived etymologically from the supernatural Athurian sorceress Morgan Le Fay, Fata Morgana is one of the most complex forms of mirage, as it contorts and distorts the horizon in a rapidly changing manner to confuse and bewitch the onlooker. Herzog’s attempts at making his visuals synonymous with his film's beguiling title are nothing short of successful, as we venture through a bizarre and bewildering sequence of esoteric imagery that will have the art house aficionado salivating with the sheer scope for interpretation and discussion.
The opening segment is warning enough for those not usually disposed to Herzog’s occasional penchant for layering his philosophy under layer upon layer of cryptic imagery to disregard immediately. The ten minutes of aircraft landing on the same landing strip, and from the same point of view, is an exercise in stamina, and can be ponderous to say the least. Herzog is making it abundantly clear to the viewer that he has no interest in raising our heart rates, as not a single one even threatens an uncomfortable landing, and uses the introduction as a means of sifting out those brave enough to switch on their minds and comprehend his thought process. As the plane tally ratchets further upwards, the distinction between them and the surrounding area seems to lessen, the imagery dissolving into one hazy vision; a fusion of the natural landscape and the man-made creations blurring into the film's first notable mirage.
In a style resembling that of a Greek epic, Herzog introduces us to 'Creation', the first of his chapters, and the hauntingly poetic narrative of the Popol Vuh, which resonates over pictures that have no linking narrative, themselves. As the Mayan text describes an ordination of man by God(s) as the rightful inhabitants of the planet, Herzog unleashes his sardonic opinion as counterpoint. We are presented with images of burnt out planes and vehicles, broken shells and the carcasses of rotting animals. Desolate villages provide minimal shelter to disheveled and disheartened families, imprisoned in the desert that surrounds them. As the religious text recalls a more pure time in human history, a young boy is filmed holding a desert fox by the throat, posing nonchalantly for the camera - an iconographic representation of man’s imposing will on nature.
'Paradise', the second segment, leads to more of the same hallucinatory imagery, the hallmark of which is the most bizarre interview of a goggle-wearing biologist describing the difficulty a monitor lizard has in catching prey in the scorched landscape, while also stating the difficulty he has in catching the lizard for his own purposes. Difficulty in coping with the desert is a recurring theme in paradise, the name ironically noted, as the sun beats down relentlessly on the creatures that have dared to survive in this harsh habitat, punishing them, while extracts from Mozart’s masses provide further mockery: its beauty counterbalancing the beastly terrain.
The final installment, 'The Golden Age', is the most reminiscent of any previous or subsequent Herzog work. Being presented with a collection of the deserts most bewildering eccentrics and loonies would normally instill a feeling of insecurity, yet because of the stark and foreboding messages of the earlier chapters, 'The Golden Age' is homely and comforting. Allowing his camera to roll those extra minutes beyond the traditional call of "cut," Herzog captures moments that others wouldn’t, as participants blur the line between acting and sincerity. The most apt description of this being an oddball couple who, interchanged with extracts from Leonard Cohen, make up the soundtrack for the latter stages with a perplexing polka-number, and who end their performance in discomfort and unease at their obvious lack of enjoyment.
It is unsurprising Herzog feels more comfortable behind the camera when surrounded by the humorous madness of what he is accustomed to. While arguably the opening two segments are the most engaging intellectually, making the third seem almost puerile in comparison, they possess a distinct lack of consciousness. It is as if the director ventured into the desert aiming to capture everything in sight and edit a sequence at a later date, to fit with the Mayan text.
For all the discussion of Fata Morgana’s original incarnation as an idea for a science-fiction film, it works better when aimlessly lilting from thought to thought rather than lingering on one. When Herzog loiters on the man-altered landscape in the opening airplane montage, or the less apocalyptic scenes of redemption in 'The Golden Age', Fata Morgana loses its impetus. Fata Morgana is not a documentary, and never could be, so when the contemplative nature, that comprises the heart of this film, goes absent, it suffers for it.
Definitely not a documentary, and only debatably science fiction, Fata Morgana is cinematic Zen-Dadaism – a desire to rectify the perceived wrongs using film as the tool.
While there is a lot of obvious negativity directed towards humanities’ impact on the environment, the message is not entirely misanthropic. Its twisted sense of humour, in the climactic passages, hints at ability for new life to spring forth from the ashes of the old. However, the recurring mirage of a lonely car driving across the landscape seems to represent Herzog’s underlying bitterness, as he is resigned to undertaking this revival single-handedly. BL
Series: Hetalia Axis Powers - Complete Series 02
Release date: 7th February 2011
Certificate: 12
Running time: TBC mins
Director: Bob Shirohata
Starring: Atsushi Kosaka, Aki Kanada, Daisuke Namikawa
Genre: Anime
Studio: Manga
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Returning to the trials and tribulations of our personified and unashamedly stereotypical nations, Hetalia Axis Powers - Complete Series 02 picks up where the first instalment left off. Lodged in the conflict of World War II, the five-minute vignettes continue to detail the political and military interactions of the Allied and Axis Powers, in typically zany fashion, as they career forth to the battle’s culmination.
The Allied Forces stumble across a journal belonging to Germany and believe this will yield all the insight into his tactical stratagem, enabling them to push on toward victory. However, Germany’s innermost thoughts prove not to be extensive musings on garnering victory but about how irritating Italy is, much to the Allies’ surprise.
Shown through flashback, Germany bemoans Italy’s inability to look after himself in a fight, noting how when he leaves him unprotected France and England take it in turns to attack and humiliate him. Italy, in a desperate attempt to prove his worth to Germany, decides that he needs to go on the offensive and looks for an easy target with which to notch-up a much-needed victory. However, despite choosing a “lightweight” country in Egypt, they are beaten with consummate ease.
Germany notes, with exasperation, in his diary that Italy, after yet another disastrous campaign, “can’t even fight a Middle Eastern country using arrows – and they didn’t even blow themselves up!…”
The crux of Hetalia once again proves to be the relationship that continues to develop between Germany and Italy. The witty banter and repartee between these two contrasting countries continues to provide most of the comic relief, and main interest, as the series’ most familiar characters. The frustration Germany feels at Italy’s never-ending stream of ineptitude continues to boil ever hotter, while Italy’s naïveté and blissful charm leads the viewer to become ever more enamoured with his childlike demeanour.
As well as their Second World War escapades, this second instalment continues to delve further into the respective nations’ histories and the spiritual bond that was briefly alluded to in the previous season. There is an enhanced exploration of why it is these two individuals with such opposing identities continue to be so intertwined, with there being notable comparisons and similarities between the fighting forces of the Holy Roman Empire (HRE) and Germania – a representation of the Germanic tribes that Rome failed to conquer.
Beyond the affiliation between the title character and the show’s primary antagonist, Hetalia continues to provide character-based background for many of the various protagonists. America starts off as nothing more than a child from the “new world," with France and England remarking that he must be kept away from the demonic Netherlands (a shadowy silhouette marking the Dutch colonisation of the time), and the two senior nations argue about whom he more closely resembles. The Baltic States become worthy of their own episode, detailing their own individuality, yet are dubbed “the nervous triplets” in recognition of their increasing fear of Russia, whose own actions are becoming increasingly alcohol fuelled and erratic.
While the additional historical context provides a greater understanding of the types of relationships the characters have with one another, allowing their idiosyncrasies and individuality to flourish, the heightened focus on characterisation results in the plot becoming of secondary importance and, consequently, lost. What made the first season an engaging viewing experience was its relation to the historical events, the world wars that underpinned the characters’ actions. As the writers flesh out the countries we’ve come to know, by venturing deeper into history (England visits Japan in 1902, representing the clash of cultures of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance), while introducing an array of new nations, the episodes find themselves hinging less on military conflict and ultimately lose their impetus. While Hetalia prides itself on its quirky and unconventional recollection of past events, it suffers from being too ramshackle, from not providing enough of a platform for it to return after exploring bygone affiliations. Without the same focus on the Second World War’s climax, in the way the first season rigidly followed the early 20th century timeline, any continuity or coherency is blurred in a free-for-all of memoirs and sagas, which while individually very interesting, fail to provide any resolution to the story which was the initial premise for Hetalia.
The anthropomorphism of entire nations allowed for a scathing humour that is disappointingly absent from this second instalment. While, at times, the analysis was generalised and bathetic, its ability to make the viewer laugh through its political and visual comedy was ever present. In the second series, the writers have abandoned the archetypal design of following an event and ridiculing the participants for a more investigative approach, which perhaps a series of this length eventually needed to adopt, but provides fewer laughs for it.
Hetalia still manages to provide visual entertainment with a crisp brand of animation that lurches between the luscious and the ludicrous, veering between the silly and the sillier. Its national representations are still as over-the-top and surrealistically stereotyped as ever and, with more countries to mock, this injects some much needed fresh air.
While diehard fans may argue that the series needed to branch out in order to remain enjoyable and not suffer from repetitiveness and complacency, too many scenes are interspersed into varying episodes with no justification for their existence or historical contextualisation. A thirty-second sequence involving Russia and China ends with the former jumping from a plane onto snow (believing the snow will soften his landing) as part of an attack, but for who, against who and why are never explained nor vindicated, leaving one scratching their head as to the necessity of such a scene. Without a conclusive resolution or alternative focus to the world wars that anchored the first series so remarkably, the second instalment is affected by an aimlessness, a lack of focus, spark and quality that cannot be made up by quantity of character.
While still as ostensibly enjoyable, Hetalia’s second season suffers from the law of diminishing returns. It spends too much time looking backward and not enough on where it should be going. BL
Film: My Neighbour Totoro
Release date: 27th March 2006
Certificate: U
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Hayao Miyazaki
Starring: Noriko Hidaka, Chika Sakamoto, Shigesato Itoi, Sumi Shimamoto, Tanie Kitabayashi
Genre: Anime
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
For anyone who has seen a Studio Ghibli film, they will have inadvertently viewed the title character, as it now forms part of the Japanese animators' logo. Released, in 1988, as the studio's first purposely made family film, My Neighbour Totoro details the lives of a family adapting to their new life in the countryside, and earned Hayao Miyazaki his third prestigious Anime Grand Prix; his second with his fledgling company.
Tatsuo Kusakabe, a university lecturer, arrives with his two daughters, Satsuki and Mei, at an abandoned house in rural Japan. The three begin to clean this rustic domain in hope and preparation for the return of their mother from hospital - she is suffering from an unnamed yet seemingly serious long-term illness.
As the girls explore their new habitat, they stumble across susuwatari, or "soot spirits", little black spherical soot balls with tiny eyes, which disappear into nooks and crannies upon contact with light. The children, intrigued yet also confused, inform their father of their discovery, and he explains what they are, and announces that laughter and feeling comfortable in their new home will cause these spirits to fly away and find a new home. While taking a bath the three begin to laugh raucously, their warming sounds causing the sprites to vacate the occupied household.
While Satsuki is at school one day, Mei, the significantly younger of the two siblings, is parading around outside when she spies two creatures walking through their garden, mysteriously fading in and out of visibility. Following the footsteps of the overgrown rabbit-like entities, they lead through the undergrowth of the bordering forest to the base of a humungous camphor tree. Falling in between the roots, she stumbles into a mysterious enclosure where lay asleep an even larger version of the two coney creatures. Upon wakening, he announces himself with a succession of yawns and roars as being known as Totoro.
After returning to recount the happenings to a highly jealous sister and attentive father, the professor explains that Totoro is likely to be the keeper and spiritual embodiment of the forest. Satsuki looks forward to meeting the forest troll herself, and informs her mother when she is released from hospital, but a setback in her recovery means the children and their new neighbourly friends must help one another, as well as teach each other new things to ensure a happy ending…
After creating his environmental epic with Nausicaa Of The Valley Of The Wind and the fantasy adventure of Laputa: Castle In The Sky, both garnering numerous awards and critical acclaim, Hayao Miyazaki wished to put his mind towards creating something more family orientated, particularly for the very young. As a result, My Neighbour Totoro is a lilting, dream-like and innocent film that eschews traditional plot and focuses on being as accurate a description of family life as possible. There are no overtly dramatic sequences and no secret quests the children must embark on. The day to day situations resemble real life as much as possible, where each event seems to spawn naturally as a consequence of daily life than a means of creating fantastically lavish sequences.
The way each member of the family behaves is symptomatic of their respective ages and ability to appreciate the circumstances that are around them. Tatsuo does his best to balance his work life, two young children, and an ill wife in hospital several miles down the road - the only transport to which is via bus or bicycle. Mei, the younger 4-year-old daughter, is naïve to the situation of her mother, unable to truly appreciate the severity of her illness. Yet, her age makes her the most likely candidate to be the first person to meet Totoro, and her innocence is representative of the target audience Miyazaki wishes to pitch the film at. Satsuki, being older than Mei by several years, understands the principles of life and death, and is affected more so than her sister by her mother's continued hospitalisation. She gets frustrated with her younger sister not being able to fully understand the situation, especially when Mei wanders off to find a way to the hospital, believing that the freshly grown produce of the nearby farms will cure their mother of her ailment.
My Neighbour Totoro is a realistic appraisal of life and as a result can be quite sombre at times. There are no ludicrously comedic characters to lighten the mood, and in such a slow paced film, this is a daring gamble. However, this only serves to enhance the film's precious nature. Its humour spawns from the interaction between the girls and the forest spirits, or from the young boy, Kanta, who lives near them. Yet, this simplicity with which the film is told, and the honesty that courses through the very fabric of these individuals' lives, makes its viewing a more rewarding experience. Kanta is a grubby boy who is looked after by his grandmother and finds himself undertaking a vast array of chores. He is a clumsy character whose initial social awkwardness around Satsuki often leads to much mirth and hilarity, yet when in a thunderstorm, he lends the girls his umbrella to save them from being drenched, and the sentiment proves immensely touching.
Of course, the fantasy elements are where the film is allowed to flourish into Miyazaki's creative best, and the warm cuddliness of Totoro and his spritely companions are nothing short of iconic. Animated with all the attention to perfection one comes to expect from Studio Ghibli, the art direction undertaken for the first time by Kazuo Oga is full of vibrancy, detail, and a unique stylisation that was set to become the template for all future Ghibli works. The vitality that vibrates through the spirits, in particular the introduction of the zany and Cheshire cat-like Catbus is symptomatic of a film that hinges its existence on imagination, and encourages us to remember that sometimes that is all you need to enjoy life.
Accompanying Miyazaki's imagery, as usual, is the score by Joe Hisashi, a permanent fixture on every single Ghibli production, with an amicable and pure musical creation that is as understated and winsome as its visual counterpart.
In an animated world populated by a factory-styled production line that churns out remarkably similar stories with an ever changing array of wildlife, Totoro's simplistic enchantment is a beacon of what can be achieved without resorting to loud, flashy, hollow characters to attract children's attentions.
My Neighbour Totoro is a deeply warming adventure that can accurately be described as 'family-orientated'. Its charming honesty and delicate tale of two young girls' lives is a moving treat no child should go without seeing, no matter how old they are. BL
Film: Hero
Release date: 21st February 2005
Certificate: 12
Running time: 95 mins
Director: Yimou Zhang
Starring: Jet Li, Tony Leung Chiu Wai, Maggie Cheung, Ziyi Zhang, Donnie Yen
Genre: Action/Adventure/Martial Arts
Studio: Miramax
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong/China
Finally, two years after its creation, and as a result of severe petitioning to Miramax Studios from Quentin Tarantino, Zhang Yimou’s Hero obtained its western cinematic and unedited DVD release. Following in the mould of its spiritual predecessor Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Hero is a succession of sweeping landscapes, vivid colours and high wire action that sees Jet Li return to his native China to assume the lead role.
Summoned by the King, an orphaned warrior, Nameless, is hurriedly ushered through the gates of the palace so as to confirm a miraculous achievement. Presenting the Prime Minister with three boxes, each containing the weapons of three powerful assassins killed by Nameless, he is permitted into the throne room to drink tea with the King.
The King is a single-minded militant who wages war on the other regions in China, yet his philosophy is to do so not for personal gain but to make the nation strong, unifying them under a single leadership and language. Eager to learn how this mysterious warrior, who held a position of nothing more than a mere local Prefect in his Kingdom of Qin, defeated these assassins, the King invites Nameless to recount his feats. Nameless states he does not possess the abilities to have defeated them collectively yet reveals by separating and confronting each assailant individually he knew he would be victorious.
While it is widely known Broken Sword and Flying Snow are lovers, Nameless reveals that the couple had not spoken to each other in three years because of an illicit encounter Snow had had with the third assassin, Sky. Shown through flashback, Nameless, having infiltrated a calligraphy school in Zhao, reveals to the remaining martial arts masters the remains of Sky’s spear, claiming that Snow's compassion would lead her to avenge his death. This revelation leads to a startling and spiraling sequence of events where Broken Sword, distraught by the actions of his paramour, engages in sexual gratification with his student Moon to earn Snow’s resentment. Snow in a fit of indignation and rage retaliates by killing her former lover. Nameless, in the hall of the King, states this emotional unsettling as a result of the cunning plan he had instigated made the disposal of Snow in combat a formality.
After pondering this lavish tale, the King of Qin announces he has been deceived by the orphaned swordsman, and professes his own entirely new account of what transpired…
With directorial projects that have earned him Golden Bear’s and the elusive Grand Jury Prize, it is unsurprising that Hero exudes the confidence of a director who is comfortable in his craft. Hero is a visual feast as Zhang sculpts beautiful, if not iconic, imagery from the shifting landscapes of Chinese deserts through to the poetic motions of his actors’ choreography. It is impossible not to underestimate the painstaking effort that went into making sure the director achieved perfection in every single scene, as not one inch of the screen is wasted or not deliberately thought out. For the fight scene in the forest, between Maggie Cheung and Ziyi Zhang, Yimou Zhang had a man spend days there purely to inform him of when the leaves began turning yellow so that the director could achieve his vision of the juxtaposed yellow and red colours. Not simply this, but the lake scene involving both Cheung and Tony Leung could only be filmed for two hours a day because this was the only time the waters in the lake would be still enough to create the mirrored effect desired.
Yimou Zhang’s dedication to faultlessness in his artistry is the primary reason Hero is undeniably hypnotic in the sheer scale of its visual palette, but he accompanies this with an interweaving sequence of stories. When Jet Li’s Nameless delineates the fits of jealousy his craftiness sent Broken Sword and Snow into, the film and the characters are awash in red. From wearing red robes through to the red calligraphy house, there is a striking statement being made. It is only, however, when the King begins his hypothesis that the colours start to resonate as being more than just bright garlands when the same characters and school are depicted in a calming blue.
Zhang’s colour coding typifies the emotional thought processes of the characters, where red symbolises passion and rage; blue is representative of sacrifice; green is the exemplification of mercy; while white, as the closing of the thematic colours, can be interpreted as truth, birth or death. While the director has been quoted as claiming the colours bear no direct correlation to any one theme, this must be taken with a pinch of salt for Zhang is undoubtedly aware of the symbolism he himself must attribute to each shade - his declination of a definitive response has created much discussed ambiguity and subsequent publicity.
At its heart, despite the kaleidoscopic opticals, Hero is a martial arts film. Thankfully the high-wire choreography does not overly bend the rules of physics so as to feel nonsensical, but does so just enough to gift his characters an ethereal and benevolently enlightened feel. Despite Jet Li and Donnie Yen being the only schooled martial artists in the primary cast, the remaining protagonists all undertook weeks of training, and the result is there as evidence to the hard work they put in. Not one scene is compromised as a result of an individual’s inability - all the actors are beautifully convincing as they glide through air, bounce off lakes and pull off remarkable feats of dance-like combat.
There are criticisms that Hero, for all its breathtaking visuals, harbours an overriding doctrine of unification, and a philosophy that supports an individual's desire to bring peace to the masses through blood thirsty conflict and totalitarian rule. There are certain parallels that can be made to modern day China leading to a school of thought that Hero is pro-communist propaganda. However, as with the meaning of colours, Yimou Zhang’s true reasoning is open to interpretation by all, and while from a certain standpoint it is difficult to ignore these observations, it is also difficult to ignore the seemingly obvious that his story is based on history, and that certain events cannot be changed. Eastern cinema has a great penchant for the philosophical, endowing the perceived antagonists with moral codes, blurring the lines between 'good' and 'bad'. Yet the reasoning in this instance may be as simple as the director choosing to implement his poetic license, but then in Hero, nothing is ever quite as it first seems to be.
While some may have an unwillingness to swallow the simple premise as a means for justifying ninety minutes worth of sword-clanging, finding it a tedious exercise in high-wire showboating, it is impossible to deny the sheer beauty which resonates throughout this sumptuously narcotic feast.
Whether it be through majestic landscapes, the vibrancy and range of striking colours on show, or the graceful movements of some of China’s finest stars, Yimou Zhang champions a case for style when done with substance. BL
Film: The Little Norse Prince
Release date: 17th October 2005
Certificate: U
Running time: 82 mins
Director: Isao Takahata
Starring: Yukari Asai, Mikijiro Hira, Etsuko Ichihara, Masao Mishima, Hisako Ôkata
Genre: Anime
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Developed and created in 1968, Isao Takahata’s first feature-length outing fuses Japanese and Norse philosophies and mythologies into the charmingly grown-up children’s tale that is The Little Norse Prince.
Having lost his father to illness, Hols must journey across treacherous terrain and return to the village of his people, who were wiped out because of the wicked sorcery of the evil Grimwald, and avenge their deaths.
While fleeing a group of marauding wolves, Hols accidentally awakens the stone giant Mogue who helps him defeat his beastly assailants. Hols in return serves the gravelly behemoth by climbing his gargantuan frame and removing what appears, at first, to be a thorn lodged in his shoulder. Upon its release Mogue reveals the thorn to actually be the Sword of the Sun, yet due to the rusted and decrepit condition of the weapon, it must be reforged to regain its former powers. If Hols manages to achieve this feat, Mogue promises to acknowledge the young boy as the Prince of the Sun and be of service to him whenever he may need assistance.
Accompanied by his bear companion Coro, Hols travels with nothing more than the unforged remains of the sun-sword, and his own throwing axe, through rugged landscapes in search of his lost kinsmen.
Trying to traverse the peaks of a snowy mountain range, Hols is confronted by the warlock Grimwald who offers the young warrior the chance of joining him and becoming his brother. But having his offer rejected, Grimwald hurls Hols down the mountainside into a raging river - he eventually washes up at a small fishing village.
After being nurtured back to health, Hols wishes to show his thanks and gratitude toward the villagers by slaying a mammoth pike that is infesting the nearby waters and making fishing impossible. Hols sets out to kill the beast, yet the pike may prove to be just a diversionary measure, as Grimwald masterminds an even more deceitful plan to destroy both the villagers and the potential sun prince...
This is not the kind of storytelling you’d be likely to find in any modern Pixar film, nor any Disney film at the time of creation. Takahata’s creations may have that slightly antiquated and familiar western feel to them, and the animal sidekicks, who are cute and cuddly, yet the socio-psychological thought patterns he endows his characters rationales with provides that dark tinge of realism, giving the film an almost dystopian feel. Hols must not simple battle the Frost King but tackle the misconceptions, stubbornness and often discriminatory views of the villagers who have put only temporary trust in their young charge. Characters suffer from jealousy and spite: inhabitants resent the popularity of the young hero and seek to undermine him where possible: Takahata does not deal in light-heartedness for the sake of it.
Perhaps one of the most unique and equally disturbing moments of the film is after having chased off yet another gang of silver wolves, Hols stumbles across the secluded and almost apocalyptic remains of a fishing village, not dissimilar to the one he is now protecting. Ruined by the cruel magic of Grimwald, it is deserted but for an eerie song that drifts along the stagnant winds. Hols discovers the source of the haunting melody, which turns out to be a mysterious girl named Hilda who proves to be the crux of Takahata’s political subtext. He looks at the preconceptions of a community who isolate the strange young girl purely on the basis that she is different from they are, yet seek to take pleasure from her singing – which subsequently has the worrying side effect of all the villagers ceasing to work. When the villagers manage to fend off the onslaught of yet another array of malicious animals, it is themselves they praise, despite Hols being the one to instigate the need to build defences and doing the majority of the fighting. These underlying leftist ideologies are not only derived from early Soviet cinema, yet can be found in all his subsequent works where a person or persons come into contact, or conflict, with a community and how the will of that community can be collectively used for good or ill.
However, Takahata’s creation has a greater importance and lasting legacy that transcends the mere eighty minutes of its duration. The Little Norse Prince is revered as the template in terms of style, content and tone that many anime directors subsequently have sought to replicate. Takahata himself has used this template to create, develop upon and mould into contemporary classics such as the fantastic Grave Of The Fireflies or the zanily charming Pom Poko. Also, if you look at the team of animators that worked alongside him, names that include Yoichi Kotabe, Yasuo Otsuka and Hayao Miyazaki, who went on to found the renowned Studio Ghibli, you can trace their subsequent achievements and successes to this film. If there would have been no Matrix without Akira, there would have been no Princess Mononoke or Spirited Away without The Little Norse Prince - it is that important.
Takahata’s debut is an even more an impressive feat when you realise it is a minor miracle reels of this film lasted long enough to transfer it to a digital format. The Toei studios had little time for Takahata, and even halted funding of the project with two scenes left incomplete. They also mercilessly slashed the films duration by thirty minutes, pulled the film from theatres after a meagre eleven days, and subsequently demoted Takahata, who was to never again direct at Toei Studios.
While the impact of The Little Norse Prince resonates even in today’s modern anime, as an individual film, it is a triumphant hallmark of sublime animation and an adult story with genuine heart, warmth, danger and menace that the talking squirrels of Disney’s preceding ‘60s sword film (The Sword In The Stone) could only dream of achieving.
The originality that The Little Norse Prince exudes is nothing short of impressive, as his anti-aging formula transports us back in time to makes us feel young and vulnerable. While it may not be the greatest anime of all time, it is nothing short of being the most important. BL
Film: Intacto
Release date: 13th October 2003
Certificate: 15
Running time: 108 mins
Director: Juan Carlos Fresnadillo
Starring: Max von Sydow, Eusebio Poncela, Leonardo Sbaraglia, Mónica López, Antonio Dechent
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD
Country: Spain
From the mind of the darkly comic Esperados, comes the feature length debut of young Spanish director Juan Carlos. Intacto makes tangible the concept of luck as characters can steal, win, barter or risk their fortuitousness in a series of gambles that range from the familiar surroundings of a casino to the deadly world of Russian roulette.
Samuel runs a casino in the centre of a vast deserted wilderness. Within its halls, he invites those who believe they are lucky enough to chance their fortune on the roulette tables and those brave enough to a more macabre version of roulette. Samuel is ably assisted by his manager, Federico, who, having been taught by Samuel, is capable of stealing the luck of anyone who ends up being more successful than the owners would like. However, after a falling out between the pair, Samuel rescinds the powers he bestowed upon Federico, and banishes him acrimoniously from his presence. Federico promises he will return and exact revenge on his former master and sets off in search of one lucky enough to rival the self-titled luckiest man on the planet.
Picking up a national newspaper, Federico reads the headline about a plane crash that killed all but one of the passengers onboard. He believes this surviving individual could have the potential he could harness to achieve his goals.
Tomás is a petty thief whose life is spiralling downward at a rapid rate so does not hesitate in accepting the offer presented to him when he is told he can make millions from playing games. From simple card games to running through a forest blindfolded, Tomás undertakes several tasks, as the events of his and everyone else’s pasts, their reasons and desires, are slowly revealed to us, including that of a young police woman, Sara, who is hot on their heels, seeking to shut down these underground rings, and, at the same time, understand the mystical logic that decrees and guides people’s fates...
One of the joyous aspects of Fresnadillo’s Intacto is the pace at which it marches along. As a viewer, you are thrown right into the heart of the action from a very early stage, and certain elements of the film’s luck-based construct are never explained outright. This is because the director trusts the audience to quickly adapt and accept the premise on which the transfer of fortune operates, and, as a result, allows the plot to remain sharp, snappy and, most importantly, unpatronising in what would be an otherwise futile attempt to ‘justify’ the sequences.
Each of the four protagonists is presented to the viewer with enough air time to justify their motivations and garner enough emotional sympathy or antipathy, respectively. Argentina’s Leonardo Sbaraglia delivers an understated performance as the drifting Tomás, whose initial naive exuberance for the money-making venture yields for an increasingly disillusioned stance. While he enjoys winning and making money with Federico, his lack of personal motivation for the Samuel confrontation makes him an increasingly uncooperative partner. We gradually learn of his own problems and heartache as we lurch from one outlandish contest to the next - it transpires his girlfriend was to board the same fateful flight as him until he admitted he did not love her moments before boarding.
The main arc is balanced delicately with the equally naive sub-story of investigative police officer Sara. However, whereas for long portions of the film Tomás comes across as disinterested in how and why his luck is so powerful and valued by others, Sara is the inquisitive mind the audience longs for. Whether or not we wish her to succeed in her goal is entirely relative to the viewer, yet she provides us with the analytical route into understanding why certain situations take place. Not simply a police officer, she too is blessed with some of the good fortune possessed by others in the story and, as a result, in an attempt to better understand the world she investigates, takes part in some equally strange games of chance. Sara, whose emotional degradation is played warmingly by Monica Lopez, is the counterbalance to Tomás’ own tale. Sara often struggles in keeping herself together as she has repeated flashbacks of the death of her husband and child, saying “I love you” to them moments before their car is careered into by a wayward driver. It is not by fluke that her story is the antithesis to Tomás’, as director Fresnadillo intertwines the themes of chance and love, challenging his characters to understand why one may prove to be greater than the other.
The unique quirkiness with which luck is addressed in Intacto is at the heart of what sparks the enjoyment from its viewing. Never has luck been shown as a tangible commodity, something that can be accumulated, bartered, traded and exchanged, which can explain why it is that certain people escape certain situations. Yet the definition of luck in Intacto is as vague as it is surreal. From games involving giant stick insects to running across a motorway at rush hour, Fresnadillo tends to view luck as one would wealth - it is something you can be born into, something that can be earned through one’s own endeavours, or something very few can stumble into by chance (like a lottery).
While the lack of depth in Intacto benefits the overall momentum of the film, it does provide a few holes in character development, in particular with Max von Sydow’s Jewish mastermind, Samuel. While Sydow’s performance is nothing less than powerhouse, and winds up stealing the show, the justification for his character’s actions are noticeably lacking. It is never fully established whether he is a reluctant participant, driven by what the fates have chosen for him, or whether he pursues his terminal games of chance with his opponents with any motive - malicious, redemptive or otherwise. It proves to be an irritation more than a severe downfall, and while clarification would be desired, the soliloquy by Sydow in the vastness of the casino’s wastelands is an impressively moving moment of cinematic gravitas by anyone’s standards.
Intacto is a film full of fresh, vibrant ideas and a philosophy on luck based on the ideas of Immanuel Kant that are transferred onto screen by Fresnadillo, whose keen directorial sense includes an eye for impressive panoramics and a use of vivid colour, which are highly reminiscent of fellow Spanish director Pedro Almodovar.
Armed with a team of highly skilled actors, both known and unknown, Intacto is presented with panache and poise that is both a success cinematically and for the studio that gambled on this emerging and talented director. BL
Film: Straight
Release date: 27th September 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 59 mins
Director: Nicolas Flessa
Starring: Adrian Can, Annabelle Dorn, Beba Ebner, Frederic Heidorn, Marion Kruse
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: Bounty
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
Shining a light on the issue of social misconception, and the pressures created by society’s desire for obligatory conformism, Nicolas Flessa’s short German film plunges straight to the heart of the matter of repressed sexuality. Set in the Berlin district of Neukoelln, otherwise known as the city’s “ghetto,” Flessa looks at the intertwining lives of three young adults as they come to terms with their individual feelings and the implications this may have on them and those around them.
Jana is a social worker yet keeps her occupation hidden from her parents, who she believes would think less of her if they knew. She is stuck in a lacklustre relationship, with her boyfriend David, which is devoid of any spark and romance. She increasingly begins to feel lonely and isolated in the claustrophobic clutches of the capital, and spends her days frustrated - and dreaming of having a family with her close friend Julia.
Her boyfriend, David, spends his days focusing on work, and for the most part completely ignores his significant other. When he and Julia do eventually spend time together, the resulting exchanges fail to produce fireworks, and the two are aware of their continuing and increasing drift, both emotionally and physically, which causes him to turn his gaze towards other people to satisfy his desires.
It is when both of these characters come into contact with a German-Turkish male drug-dealer named Nazim that the landscape of all their lives becomes shifted irrevocably, as a triangle forms that will cause them all to reassess their views about theirs and each other’s desires…
To say the production costs of Straight are low is an understatement, as the cinematography resembles that of a third year media student’s latest creation, but perhaps that is not as big of a criticism as it initially sounds. Being undoubtedly low budget and classifiably independent, director Nicolas Flasse, who has a track record of creating cinematic shorts, is able to be as brutal with his characters as the issues he addresses them with. He deals with the sexuality of his protagonists in a manner that is often treated with contempt in wider cinema, and is bracketed into a comedy genre for cheap laughs at the expense of the individual’s feelings. In Straight, Flessa manages to allow a lot to be said without words, he focuses on gestures and the movements of his actors to transmit the subtext to create the sense of believability needed to engage with their plights.
Through the understated and subtle script, the director can emphasise the underlying pulls that each of the individuals feels, the need to put a façade and pretend that they aren’t how they are. Flasse focuses on the external social forces that drive the need for secrecy, lies and denial that reside within two of the three focal characters. From the imposing pressure of parents and societies ideas on what constitutes a ‘normal’ relationship to the excessively masculine posturing of Nazim’s drug associates, and the need to be someone you’re not to save face, Flasse contrasts the emotions of Nazim and Jana to the laissez-faire attitude of David. He casually drifts from one person to the next, not particularly bothered about the emotions that others may feel towards or because of him. He is a particularly selfish individual who acts purely for self-gratification, which is in stark contrast to the confused activities of the others, who are seemingly searching for their true selves in the process of this complex love-triangle.
If there was perhaps one criticism of Straight, it is that while Flasse does address the need for secrecy felt by both Jana and Nazim, it is perhaps not explored enough, or the pressures not felt enough to create that gut-wrenching emotional pull that films of this nature often need. Straight would benefit more from being slightly longer and allowing there to be a greater feel of danger; a slowly increasing suspicion of Nazim’s homosexual tendencies by his gang-mates; or a sense of continual pressure from Jana’s parents to settle down and start a family. Without the heightened sense of paranoia or anxiety caused by the social pressures that the director acknowledges, yet fails to capitalise on, Straight can sometimes not deliver the punch the predicament desires to create.
Straight is an interesting short film that while not entirely unpredictable, engages the viewer with the style in which it sets about its task. Set in the seedy atmosphere of the Berlin ghetto to highlight the equally seedy and dubious relationships that are failing and being forged. The actors undertake their roles with an understated gusto that befits the relatively lo-fi feel of the photography, and allows the limited script to come to life through the range of emotions that are at the front of this films driving force.
While there are areas for potential reworking and growth that would allow the drama to be exploited to its most engaging, Straight proves to be anything but, as it weaves the lives of its three characters together in a delicate yet brutally believable manner. BL
Series: Hetalia: Axis Powers - Season 01
Release date: 13th December 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 130 mins
Director: Bob Shirohata
Starring: N/a
Genre: Anime
Studio: Manga
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Originally a manga, then an online series, and finally adapted into an anime, Hetalia is a zany and immensely wacky recollection of world (yet predominantly European) history, where each country involved is represented by one or more allegorical characters. It interprets the political and historical events of the time, primarily focusing around World Wars I and II in easily digestible five minute vignettes that are as simplistically accurate as possible, while always being completely ludicrous.
Hetalia is a portmanteau from the Japanese words Hetare and Italia meaning incompetent and Italy, so while the series principally focuses on 20th century history, it does delve back in time to the Holy Roman Empire, to show the stark contrast between the then and now.
Delving into the military conflict of what is World War I, Italy is presented as a bumbling, yet lovable, coward who is discovered by Germany lurking in a box of tomatoes in a forest clearing and begs him not to kill him. The serious and bureaucratic Germany is baffled by the complete ineptitude of someone who, at the time, is supposed to be his enemy. He takes Italy captive, yet the clingy and desperate need of his prisoner to feel respected, as all the other countries “bully” him, means Germany is the recipient of mass adulation. He, at one stage, leaves the door of the jail open for Italy to escape through, but Italy wishes to ally with Germany, which comes into play heavily as the story progresses towards the Second World War.
Slowly as we proceed through the course of history, other nations are brought into play, as are their relationships with all the other factions, each with their own unashamedly stereotypical traits. France is a romantic character who attributes his years of military failure to a cruel joke from God; America is often seen eating a hamburger and professes grand ideas to bring unity and harmony to the world, which are rarely ever seen - he also has a tempestuous relationship with England, a cynical, well-spoken gentleman who is often ashamed by the actions of what he perceives to be his former student. Other smaller nations such as Estonia, Lithuania, Lichtenstein and others enter the fray at varying junctures in minor roles, with Russia and China making up the rest of the Allied Powers, while Japan is initially recruited by Germany to join Italy as the Axis Powers referred to in the title…
It is quite an achievement that even in the course of the five-minute sequences, a lot of information can be found in them, as season one of Hetalia ploughs through the two major wars of the 20th century and into the formation of what is symbolically seen as the United Nations. For the most part, Hetalia is completely non-linear and interchanges the stories it is recounting quite frequently, often leaving plot lines incomplete and “to be continued,” to be picked up again several episodes later.
At times, it could be possible to view Hetalia as a childish and very amateurish analysis of 20th century politics, as condensing an entire country into a pathetic fallacy doesn’t account for all the millions of individual lives that character represents. However, Hetalia is more concerned with the actions a nation undertook, and what it believes its motives were at that time, and how the writers perceive that nation historically. For example, in the opening episode there is a flashback to the Holy Roman Empire (HRE), which is personified as a bold, brave and handsome hero who sought to unify Europe and had a great fascination with arts and culture. Modern day Italy, unfortunately, whilst “related” to HRE, and being the shows prime protagonist, is more fixated with talking to ladies and hiding behind Germany for protection. Also, Germany’s entire justification for invading France as the catalyst for the start of World War II is because he was forced to make cuckoo clocks for the Swiss (the profit of which going to France) as reparations in accordance with the Treaty Of Versailles: he also makes mention that he is only doing this because he has a “strange boss,” in a veiled mention of Hitler. Hetalia simplifies the complex into a childlike interpretation, yet it is impossible to ignore how, in its own way, accurate every nation is portrayed.
Even as a recollection of world history through a somewhat surreal kaleidoscope, Hetalia still utilises many fundamentals of anime to help explain circumstances and make its self more accessible. There are traditional character-based story arcs that develop and tie in to the evolution of events. England and Germany are characters that are referred to in Japan as “tsundere,” a portmanteau of the terms Tsun Tsun and Dere Dere, meaning “to turn away” and “lovey dovey” respectively. Tsundere is the concept of an individual changing from a cold and unsupportive individual into someone more demonstrative and compassionate. There is also a high usage of familiar honorifics where characters may refer to one another as “little brother” or “father.” This is not because the nations are necessarily directly related to each other but is used more as a sign of bonds, respect and similarities between individuals. Russia views Lithuania as his “younger brother” because he picks on him emotionally like an older brother may do but also because he has a deep desire to unify with him and work together for the common good. It is also eluded to briefly, although not explicitly said that Germany may be the spiritual brother to Italy, as his initial tendencies to take over Europe reminds the latter of the days of the RME, whom he references as “grandfather.”
As with all anime of late, the animation is completely sublime and immensely focused on detail. While there are no scenes that may leave the viewer with his jaw on the floor, it is the quirky detailing of characters emotions and the slightly surreal manner of interactions, such as the Axis Powers being stranded on an island beach, where Germany draws up a chart of why the Allied Powers can’t work together and Italy decides to simply build a sandcastle - a metaphor for the field of conflict.
While Hetalia perhaps couldn’t be used as a substitute for a history textbook, it is a sharp, snappy, silly and thoroughly enjoyable glance back through time showing the demise of HRE as once a father figure to all of Europe to nothing more than a source of laughter. But more than that, the writers stick their claws into every single nation in their own unique satirical fashion able to highlight the positives and negatives through political stereotyping and insanely sharp wit.
Hetalia allows no country to go untarnished, or ignored, from its brand of comedic assassination, and with such a fresh take on events we know so well, proves to be perversely educational. BL
