'From Up On Poppy Hill', 'Only God Forgives' and 'Blackfish': review round-up

Not seen a lot of movies of late, but here's a round-up of some recent cinema trips. I won't review 'Red 2' (above) - because I only saw the first half - but thought I'd mention the fact that it was (from what I saw) so empty, lifeless and insipid that it was the catalyst for my second ever walk-out. Everyone, most especially Bruce Willis, was just going through the motions. Mary Louise Parker was watchable enough, but the constant misogynistic comments about her from Willis ("you don't give the girl a gun!" and "you don't bring the girl along on a mission!"), whose character talks about her to others constantly whilst she's standing right there, were grating to say the least. I'm sure Willis' character learns some valuable lesson about trust and/or sharing by the film's end, but I couldn't face another 45 minutes waiting for a grown-up to learn that women are people too. Anyway, it just wasn't funny, it was really slow, the action was deathly boring and at one point there was a lingering close-up of a tube of Pringles. There are obviously worse films, but very few are this lacklustre.

The first film I ever walked out of? Since you asked, I couldn't stomach Richard Curtis' interminable 'The Boat That Rocked' - even though I had been allowed to watch it whilst on the clock at a cinema. I was having such a bad time with that one that I left to go and Brasso some door handles instead. One major reason for this was that I'd just encountered a comic scene in which a man committed statutory rape - sneaking into bed with a woman in the dark, pretending to be her partner (which I felt was less "cheeky" than it was "creepy" and "sexual assaulty"). But the main reason was that I checked my watch, expecting to be halfway through this 135 minute epic, to find I'd been sat there for only half an hour. Just over an hour and a half left to go! No thanks, Curtis. No thanks.

'From Up On Poppy Hill' - Dir. Goro Miyazaki (U)

A colleague of mine aptly described this one as "minor Ghibli", and it certainly is one of the less significant entries in the Japanese animation house's filmography, but that's not to say it isn't entirely pleasant from start to finish. It's gentle, charming and life-affirming without being overly cheesy. It's also a damn sight better than director Goro Miyazaki's (son of Hayao) first attempt following his move from landscaping to filmmaking: the uncharacteristically dull and unpolished 'Tales From Earthsea' - sections of which felt like limited TV animation and a far cry from the finesse of 'Spirited Away' or 'My Neighbour Totoro'. The animation here is much better, though still not up there with the work Miyazaki senior or Isao Takahata, Ghibli's other master - responsible for the studio's most mature (less magical) works 'Only Yesterday' and 'Grave of the Fireflies'.

'Poppy Hill' - adapted from a 1980 manga by Tetsurō Sayama and Chizuru Takahashi - is a wistful and nostalgic 60s-set story about two school kids who fall in love only to find that they are likely brother and sister: both having the same sea-faring father, who perished during the Korean War. This small-scale character-driven plot runs against the backdrop of more typically active movie fare, as the kids try to organise the student body to persuade the authorities not to demolish the old clubhouse and replace it with a newer building, in a rapidly developing Japan looking to eradicate reminders of its recent history. The clubhouse - home to a myriad of wacky extra-curricular activities, all taken extremely seriously by the student body - is reminiscent of something out of Wes Anderson's 'Rushmore' and is as fun a place to be as that suggests.

Perhaps the story reaches an all-to-sudden and convenient conclusion in the last few minutes, but it's genuine and heartfelt and difficult to be too cynical about. Filler until the next big Miyazaki masterpiece, maybe, but there are less winsome ways to spend an hour and a half.

'Only God Forgives' - Dir. Nicolas Winding Refn (18)

Hmmmmmmmm. And there I was thinking the last collaboration between Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn and star Ryan Gosling was all style and no substance. Well, say what you will about the hipster-baiting self-styled "instant cult classic" 'Drive', but compared to 'Only God Forgives' it's a nuanced character study and a hi-octane crime thriller of the highest order. This one sees Gosling play an American living in Bangkok, who runs a boxing club and whose nose is put very slightly out of joint when a cop allows a victim's father to kill his murderous rapist brother. The main thing you need to know about this character is that he looks pretty good in a suit - choosing to fight whilst dressed like a particularly trendy barista.

At my weary, bored-to-tears best estimate, around 80% of 'Only God Forgives' consists of Gosling sitting in the semi-darkness, staring into the middle distance, somewhere off camera (a friend suggested somebody on-set was waving something colourful) emoting nothing at all. Ignoring the bit where he shouts at a prostitute in a slightly weedly and accidentally comic way, his acting range in this film goes between expressions of acute indifference all the way up to moderate contemplation. There's a method writers employ to assess whether their characters are fully formed which requires them to be able to describe any given character without mentioning the way they dress or what they do for a living. Try doing that here, with any of the characters, and get back to me if you manage it. And "has penis-envy of his brother and wants to fuck his mum" doesn't count, because the film just outright, explicitly tells us that (several times) via Kristen Scott-Thomas in her ground-breaking against-type role as middle-aged-women-who-says-cunt.

Vithaya Pansringarm plays a brutal cop that many are calling the highlight of the movie, but this is another non-character. Or at least it's a movie stock character: a walking cliché - the violent killer with a code, whose capacity for ultra-violence sits in contrast to a peculiar affectation and/or hobby (in this instance karaoke). This character has been in every Quentin Tarantino film ever made, for instance. Where the film appears to think it has something to say is in relation to the Oedipus complex: it's all tracking shots down red hallways, Gosling's disgustingly literal urge to return to the womb, his apparent lust for his mother and the detail that he apparently murdered his father. But what the film is saying about all this is beyond me. In 'The Man Who Wasn't There' ace lawyer Freddy Riedenschneider tries to bamboozle a jury by claiming they should not look at the facts but the meaning behind the facts, and that the facts have no meaning. He might as well have been reviewing 'Only God Forgives'.

As a visual/sensory exercise though, it's obviously a piece of world-class work - the stuff of a real virtuoso. As with 'Drive' and 'Bronson' (the one Refn film I uncomplicatedly like) before it, 'Only God Forgives' shows Refn as a supremely visual storyteller and a real stylist. I eagerly await the next time these qualities once again combine with the urge to tell an actual story of some substance.

'Blackfish' - Dir. Gabriela Cowperthwaite (15)

I write this every time I review a documentary, but it's difficult to separate what you think of the film's point of view from the quality of the film itself. Especially when said film is such a polemic, highlighting facts and cherry-picking interview subjects to arrive at a previously determined conclusion (however valid said conclusion might be). In this case, I overwhelmingly agree with the basic premise of and majority of the arguments in 'Blackfish': for what it's worth, I think the process of gathering cetaceans for commercial use is cruel and the evidence seems to suggest that life in captivity is detrimental to the animals' well-being.

That said, I don't think 'Blackfish' says anything that 2009's 'The Cove' didn't say far better and in a more slick and cinematic way that better delivers that point to an audience. 'The Cove' also looks at the subject in a much broader way - considering international whaling lobbyists, the anti-whaling movement and other things - whereas 'Blackfish' looks at SeaWorld very specifically. Aside from specific accounts of incidents at SeaWorld parks, involving the injury and death of employees working with orcas, I didn't find it particularly illuminating. It also takes a lot of things for granted and doesn't hold its subjects, mostly former SeaWorld employees, up to any amount of scrutiny. For instance, non-scientists make statements such as "scientists are reluctant to say whales have language but it's clear they have language" which go wholly unsubstantiated in the film and, at one point, one of the most vocal collaborators confesses "I know nothing about whales".

For those in the dark about the issues raised here, it may be a far better and more effective piece of filmmaking than I found it to be. It's a laudable and worthy film, for sure - and I hope a lot of people see it, as it could do some tangible good in the world (apparently it's already caused Pixar to re-write the end of their 'Finding Nemo' sequel) - it doesn't tell you anything you couldn't glean from skim-reading a couple of Wikipedia articles. However, it should perhaps be required viewing for those thinking of visiting a SeaWorld water park.

'Arrietty' review:

Studio Ghibli, the beloved Japanese animation house behind 'Spirited Away', 'Grave of the Fireflies' and 'Ponyo', have had two directors to thank for their artistic and commercial success. Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki have, between them, accounted for twelve of the studio's sixteen theatrical features (thirteen of seventeen if you count the latter's 'Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind': pre-Ghibli but now considered part of the canon). In the last ten years, increasing concern that both men are in their seventies has seen the studio push younger talent into the spotlight, usually with a noticeable drop in quality.

Hiroyuki Morita's 'The Cat Returns' was a made-for-TV movie which ended up receiving a cinema release in order to cash in on the runaway international success of 'Spirited Away' back in 2002. It's a charming and watchable film but it doesn't hold a candle to 'Whisper of the Heart', the film of which it is a nominal sequel. That under-appreciated gem, written and storyboarded by Miyazaki, was another attempt to get young blood to take over in the mid-90s - but it came to nothing when promising director Yoshifumi Kondō died of an aneurysm at 47. The real nadir of this quest to replace Miyazaki was reached in 2006, when producer Toshio Suzuki convinced the great master's son Gorō to give up his career in landscaping to direct the awful 'Tales From Earthsea'. Yet long-serving animator Hiromasa Yonebayashi has provided a ray of hope, directing 'Arrietty': a delightfully pleasant and beautifully detailed adaptation of The Borrowers.



As you may have guessed from the film's source text, 'Arrietty' follows the adventures of a family of "borrowers" - folkloric little people who live between the walls and beneath the floorboards of houses, keeping just out of sight of "human beans". However 13 year-old Arrietty, the precocious and determined daughter of the family, gets seen by a sickly young boy named Shō and her parents decide it's best to uproot and find a new home. But not before the the maid of the house, the creepy and slightly mad Haru, discovers their presence and calls in the exterminators. Along the way Arrietty also contends with insects, birds and a mangy old cat.

Chief among the film's accomplishments is the great sense of scale Yonebayashi maintains, as borrowers interact with (to them) enormous everyday objects and animals. Scale is considered a notoriously difficult challenge within animation circles, there is consistently a sense of awe - most memorably when the girl enters the human kitchen for the first time (her hair rising with her spirit in the established Miyazaki tradition). The characters' use of mundane objects, such as earrings and sellotape, is also really fun to watch and terrifically inventive.



It isn't exactly at the hi-octane end of the Ghibli spectrum, being a slowly paced and gentle yarn rather than an epic in the mould of 'Princess Mononoke'. Though it nevertheless held my attention from its enchanting beginning to bittersweet conclusion, mostly thanks to some of the most elegant, neatly observed character animation in the history of the studio and some breathtaking backdrops. I suppose it's style over substance, though 'Earthsea' had neither so I'm loathe to be too critical. One crucial absentee here is veteran tunesmith Joe Hisaishi whose scores never fail to invoke a sense of grandeur and earnest emotion. French singer Cécile Corbel instead provides the film's music which is chintzy and all too fay.

'Arrietty' is a work of promise. Yet, as promising as the film is, the studio aren't quite out of the woods yet. Miyazaki played an active role in shaping the project, even co-writing the screenplay which is riddled with his DNA - from the goggles on the father's head to the resolve of the titular heroine. But Ghibli's youngest feature director, Yonebayashi has really given a measure of hope to fans that the animation institution can outlive the two old men. It's as pleasing on the eye as anything Studio Ghibli has made and the story, though slight, is as innocently joyful a way as you can spend 94 minutes at the movies.

'Arrietty' is out now in the UK, rated 'U' by the BBFC.

Satoshi Kon (1963-2010): Anime director loses battle with cancer at 46

The world of animation has been rocked by news of the sudden death of the pioneering Japanese director Satoshi Kon, who died of pancreatic cancer at the age of 46 yesterday.

Kon was the anime equivalent of Charlie Kaufman, his four finished films were multi-layered and their concerns were generally introspective and psychological, with questions of identity usually in the foreground. In no film was this more apparent than in his most recent finished film: 2006's 'Paprika'. Four years before Nolan's 'Inception', 'Paprika' involved a device that allowed people to enter other people's dreams and the film blurred the lines between the dreamworld and reality.



But the anime film-maker had played with similar themes since his 1997 debut as a director, 'Perfect Blue', which amidst the now familiar questions of identity also explored celebrity and the (then) new dangers presented by Internet chat rooms. A Hitchcockian thriller, 'Perfect Blue' follows a young J-Pop star as she decides to change her image and try to make a living as a serious actress. A fact which angers some of her fans.



Then came perhaps his seminal work: 'Millennium Actress', released in 2001, was the story of an old actress looking back at her life through the parts she played, with reality and fiction becoming blurred. The actress, who has not been interviewed in years and has completely retired from public life, was loosely based on Setsuko Hara - the actress most famous for her starring role in Ozu's so-called Noriko trilogy of the 40s and 50s. The film plays with genre as a number of different epoch's of Japanese cinema are lovingly recreated, from Ishiro Honda-style monster movies to 'Throne of Blood' era Kurosawa pictures.



2003 saw a slight departure, with the release of 'Tokyo Godfathers', the story of three homeless people who come across an abandoned baby one Christmas and resolve to find her parents. There is one brief dream sequence and one of the homeless could be said to be in conflict with their own identity (the homosexual male Hana wishing to be the child's mother), but otherwise 'Tokyo Godfathers' is slightly more grounded in a solid reality compared to his other work - at least until the buildings start dancing over the end credits. Instead, much in the same way that 'Perfect Blue' and 'Millennium Actress' looked at issues of fame and celebrity, 'Godfathers' subtly questions Japanese society and its attitudes towards those who slip through the net. This isn't done via any grand soliloquy, but rather it is demonstrated by some of the obstacles that come between the trio and their goal. As Hana recites a number of Haiku, which enter the frame in elegant calligraphy, perhaps Kon was also satirising the Japanese traditions of formal beauty which exist in contrast to the reality of these people's lives.



Sandwiched between this oddity and the more conventionally Kon-esque 'Paprika' was the dynamic and experimental television series 'Paranoia Agent', a story of a mysterious, possibly imagined, juvenile thug told over thirteen episodes and from the perspective of as many characters. Kon saw the show as a way to make something which could utilise a number of his ideas which he felt did not fit into any of his features, and as such the show is richly filled with imaginative and memorable scenes.



Kon was known to be working on a fifth feature film, known as 'The Dream Machine', up until his death. It remains unclear whether this project will surface and in what form. Hopefully the late animator had finished the project, which he described thusly:

On the surface, it's going to be a fantasy-adventure targeted at younger audiences. However, it will also be a film that people who have seen our films up to this point will be able to enjoy. So it will be an adventure that even older audiences can appreciate. There will be no human characters in the film; only robots. It'll be like a "road movie" for robots

But whatever comes of 'The Dream Machine', Kon's legacy is not only the great imagination and psychological depth of his four existing films, but also the tone. Kon's work is an antidote to anyone who thinks anime is about cute, fetishistic school girls dancing around with giant robots, or whatever. Kon's films took a serious, gritty, non-exploitative tone and dealt with subjects usually found in live-action, but which could not have been realised in live-action (at least not without a huge budget). He used animation to the fullest and exploited all its possibilities in a way seldom seen inside of Japan or out.

And yet Kon is almost always overlooked when naming the great contemporary animators. When the definitive book is written on the last twenty years of animation, and sections are being given to Hayao Miyazaki, Sylvain Chomet, Brad Bird, Michel Ocelot, John Lasseter, Jan Švankmajer, Richard Linklater and Nick Park - let us hope space is reserved for Satoshi Kon. A true visionary and a master animator and a life cut tragically short. Tonight I will raise a glass to Kon-san.

'Ponyo' Review: The beauty of Miyazaki

I’ll make it known from the off: I’m a big fan of Hayao Miyazaki’s work. Because of this, I probably have a little bit of trouble evaluating his latest film with much objectivity. I quite simply can’t see what anybody could dislike about “Ponyo”.

Miyazaki’s first feature since 2004’s ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’, ‘Ponyo on a Cliff by the Sea’ (to use its more picturesque Japanese title) will be enthusiastically devoured by fans of Japanese anime, by fans of traditional hand-drawn animation in general, as well as by fans of its legendary filmmaker. Indeed, it will be a film welcomed by all of the above all the more enthusiastically as it comes in the wake of Studio Ghibli’s last, rather lacklustre, 2006 effort ‘Tales from Earthsea’ (directed by Hayao Miyazaki’s son: Goro).

‘Ponyo’ is the story of a fish who desires to become a human after falling in love with one. In this way it is essentially an adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid”. However, that is not to say that the film does not bare the auteurist stamp of its director, as all of Miyazaki’s usual preoccupations are on show here: Miyazaki transforms Andersen’s mermaid and prince into two young, self-sufficient children; the film has similar environmental messages to ‘Princess Mononoke’ and ‘Spirited Away’; our hero saves the day (spoiler!) by overcoming trials of the heart, rather than tests of physical strength (see any of Miyazaki’s heroes); and Miyazaki again displays his fascination with people at work – here seen in the sections featuring the men at sea or the young boy's mother tending to the old women of the nursing home.

All of these motifs are echoed in this film, but there is a far more important one which is also present here. Miyazaki carries everything off with his customary lightness of touch and effortless charm. The characters in his films are unfailingly good-natured and there are never any bad guys to speak of (perhaps with the notable exception of Muska in ‘Castle in the Sky’), as he refuses to deal in straightforward good versus evil. It's heartening, that the villains in Miyazaki are never too far from redemption, often befriending the heroes.

As is to be expected by now, the film is superb from an animation standpoint. The animation is colourful, fluid and detailed throughout, whilst nobody in the history of the art form has so effectively captured the spirit of childhood through the depiction of children in motion. Like ‘My Neighbour Totoro’ before it, ‘Ponyo’ features some of the most sensitive and poignant animation of children I have ever seen and it is here that the film really excels.



However my enduring memory and perhaps my favourite moment of the film was its depiction of a downcast and rainy early-afternoon. I have never seen any film (animated or live-action) so accurately evoke that time of day and the feeling that comes with it. As you can no doubt tell from this review: I loved ‘Ponyo’. It was purely and immensely joyful and if my fandom of Miyazaki has in any way compromised my judgement and rendered me unable to find any negatives in this film, then I am entirely happy with that outcome. In an age where most children's films have a post-modern, knowing cynicism about them, it is really refreshing to find something so sincere in its unabashed enthusiasm and childish naivety.

'Ponyo' is playing all week at the Duke of York's Picturehouse in Brighton (in subtitled and dubbed versions) and is rated 'U' by the BBFC.