Tonari no Totoro

Before the "what the fuck is wrong with you, a 5 on a ghibli movie, kill yourself" settles in, I want to assure you that the movie did everything that it set out to be outstandingly and if I was from that target audience, I would probably consider it nothing short of a masterpiece. I usually prefer to criticize a show for what it tried to be but failed while presenting every factor I deemed important about the movie and why eventually it was only an average experience for me. In this case, I don't have a lot to criticize on what the movie actually tried to do because it was succesful in what it did. So all I can present is what factored into my experience only a 5 with what the movie has had done and has not done.

Starting with the movie's strong suits, the artistic side of it is outstanding. While the obligatory "for its time, it looks incredible" compliment must be said, I'll do one more and say that for our time, I wish people would pay as much attention to detail in animation as was done in Tonari no Totoro and would look at least half as good. The animation has plenty of small details throw in that makes each frame look lively and realistic. As an example there will be some scenes with children crying. Have you ever seen someone cry in an anime? I will assume that most of the time, depending on what you watch of course, crying doesn't rise any red flags. However, watching a child cry in this made me realize something. Most people don't even put any effort into the way they display someone crying and see it as something simple and easy to portray. However, in Totoro, when the child started crying I could see the range of emotions she went through and react realistically, the same way any child of that age would. All down to the point of starting to cry silently because she was upset then up to the outburst of emotion, screaming and bawling as soon as she was given attention again the way children do when they are given attention in these situations. It may seem a ridiculous thing to pick out the level of detail for animation, but that's what I found most impressive. The range of emotions displayed in a few frames was done as right as anyone could ever do them and I can't imagine someone outdoing this kid.

Ok, now the movie so far was 10/10 children cry real. Anyway, up next I'm gonna talk about, more of the art, and rather, its significance in this movie. You see there's a point to the art actually being this well animated and that is that its goal is to be as captivating as anything can be. Yeah, sure, anything has to be captivating, but in this situation, you have to keep in mind, the audience was intended to be children. Children are impressionable. And I assure this was artstyle was very impressive if it still is today back then. But the reason it also has to be captivating it is because it's trying to display the innocence of children, which is the artistic goal of the movie. Which it does. Quite well. To the point where everyone praises it. So I praised it on that front enough. But I have to add, since its audience seemed to have been children, it has build an impressive world with imaginative designs in a realistic looking manner. To the point where adults can watch it to feel like a kid again and children can watch it to be amazed by the movie's world.

But here's where my praise stops and my gripes with the movie starts... well... you see... I was bored. Yes, despite the amazingly looking visuals that occasionally made me so impressed I forgot all about how bored I was for a short while and despite being 100% on board with what the movie has displayed, I still was bored. Why? Because it is mostly comprised of the children fucking around and showing off how well designed everything is, as well as put focus on what they're trying to display in the movie. The movie piles on a lot and a lot of scenes together for artistic value and to continuously display how innocent a child is. I get it. So what?

What do you mean "so what?", that's the point of the movie?

Yes, and why would I watch something solely meant to display that. Quite frankly, there's a lot of things intended for kids that are sweet, innocent and whatnot and have a point in their story, even if simple and meant for children to understand and teach them good values. However this movie spends an hour on children and then realizes something needs to happen as for the story to have some sort of tension by the point where you'd have ingrained the target audience into your brain and know everything's gonna be alright. The story is a tool to display art, rather than to display a engaging narrative.

Yeah, but the story's goal was to show off the children's innocence. It's only your fault if you can't appreciate that.

Yeah, finally something that we can agree. Frankly if you enjoy a movie that is artistic and the theme that I've described in the review, it will be outstanding. But do you enjoy stories? Do you enjoy it when you learn something? Do you enjoy it when you see someone have some sort of struggle and have some type of conflict? Do you enjoy it when something you watch tries to drive home a point or multiple points? Are you entertaining by these things? Because they are absent here. As a child or enough of a childlike mentality, you could admire and yonder or feel nostalgic over how your own childhood was due to the movie, but, if that's not what you're looking for... You're likely to get bored... just like me. Unless you're watching it for the amazing visuals. In which case, congratulations again.

Most often times when something succeeds in what it sets out to be it is often free of criticism because there is no point to it because it's already succeeded. But just because it succeeded in something doesn't mean it will succeed in entertaining you. If narrative is something you really want in the movie, a series of connected events that do drive a point across, this is not something you should watch. If you value the artistic side of a show more than anything, this is a masterpiece that you should not miss, this movie is for you.

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Childhood is a blossoming period of learning and developing one's own idiosyncrasies. It has always been a sedate stage in which little youngsters define themselves through their senseless antics—ones that appear innocent but are of an elusive nature, and are merely an inadvertent expression of the capricious phase that is childhood. However, since kids are so full of youthful tendencies, very few directors have managed to portray the rascals in a sincere and realistic manner. But among those select few is an irreplaceable Ghibli film which has become a sensation both within its native community and the western world—and that film is Hayao Miyazaki's My Neighbor Totoro.

My Neighbor Totoro is, simply put, a child's imagination brought to life; fanciful tales that become reality, replete with picturesque wonders that reveal the magical and mysterious. Hidden from adult eyes, the otherworldly rewards only those of pure heart. Spirits and mystic guardians of the forest, they embody the creativity and candidness of children—content to experience the simple joys of life and the beauty of nature. With down-to-earth characterization, Satsuki and Mei are splendid lenses into the film's world, their optimism and enthusiasm ensuring every little discovery resonates with the audience—a magical tale that is an adventure for kids, and an opportunity to revisit childhood for adults; a genuine moment of reflection.

Although the setting lacks depth, My Neighbor Totoro alleviates this by deftly weaving together fantasy and realism. Very little is explained and detailed, but its integration of the imaginary is both natural and unobtrusive. A big house nestled amidst greenery, uninhabited for decades, a likely home to the mysterious. Satsuki and Mei, true to their age, are explorers of the unknown—their interactions with the rich environment are not only a delight to observe, but also a reflection of the curiosity inherent within every child.

Unveiled with mystique, uncanny soot creatures emerge from the house's floor and scamper into the shadows as the heroines enthusiastically tour the dark rooms of their new abode. Even if slightly scared at first, Satsuki and Mei's fear quickly gives way to curiosity, then excitement, and finally delight. The two adventurous sisters stumble upon a new world, and like any child would, wholeheartedly embrace its magic. This very sense of wonder is what leads them to the mythical spirit Totoro, protector and guardian of the forest. Intimidating in size, but gentle in nature, the fuzzy giant embraces the two of them with otherworldly tenderness. In an ever-so-subtle way, he becomes a link between the characters and the forest itself, introducing them to many of its magic wonders.

In essence, My Neighbor Totoro is more about inspiring one's imagination—an honest message about the importance of childhood and a connection with nature—than creating a fantasy backdrop. Complexity is absent, but the presentation is delivered with finesse and flair. Much of this is due to the laid-back pace and the amiable guidance of the protagonists, slowly hinting at the mysteries that may be hidden in the nooks and crannies of dark rooms and lush forests. All the viewer needs to do is to sit down, relax, and enjoy the magic unfold.

Allowing their daughters the liberty to go and explore the surroundings of their new home, Satsuki and Mei's parents are often absent physically, but present in spirit. As caring guardians, the parents concern themselves with their troublesome daredevils in an earnest and honest fashion. These carefree dynamics connect the otherwise distant adult world with the children's, instilling a sense of trust and intimacy among the family. In this sense, Miyazaki makes a conscious effort of displaying human relationships in a sincere and natural style.

True to Ghibli's reputation, My Neighbor Totoro's visuals are masterfully crafted with great attention to even the most minute details. Rich with body language and facial expressions, the screenplay succeeds in the art of showing and not just telling, breathing nuance and realism into the cast's actions and interactions. These subtleties add striking believability to the characters, as adults and children alike look and behave according to their ages. The physical environments, too, are vividly detailed, setting the stage for the integration of the cast and fantasy—be it the cluttered rooms of a house recently moved into, or the green vastness and richness of the countryside.

Likewise, the film's sound department is remarkably well-polished. Joe Hisaishi's compositions harmoniously blend with the mood of the scenes—the tempo is upbeat in situations of excitement and discovery, while smooth when tension is low. The timing is delicate, but more than anything, the tracks themselves are what stand out most. Charming and varied, the melodic tunes make extraordinary scenes even more memorable. The careful management not only soothes body and mind, but also permits the soundtrack to lace key scenes with vivid and meaningful tonality. Interesting to note, though, is that for most of the movie, there is no background music. Instead, focus is placed on environmental sounds, allowing the countryside setting to weave its own atmosphere. In concordance with the naturalistic tone of the story, this adds a more organic touch to the presentation—one focused on painting nature in its purest form.

A tale intended for kids, yet a journey fit for audiences of all ages, My Neighbor Totoro is a splendid story that encapsulates the beauty of childhood. The film's wonderful portrayal of Satsuki and Mei's imagination conveys a true sense of jollity present in most children. Beyond its realism, the film delivers a dazzlingly magical experience by way of its supernatural encounters with the manifestations of nature. But this occurs ever so gently, that one could consider it a dream-like tale that both begins and ends in blissful serenity. A true classic, My Neighbor Totoro will remain in the hearts of many as a heartwarming experience of one of the purest and most beautiful memories: a frolicsome childhood, never to be forgotten.

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This review is the final product of a team composed of members from the "Critics and Connoisseurs" club. The writers were:

Stellio
Parial

Editing was done by:

RMNDolphy
Don_Don_Kun

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I remember Totoro was my favorite anime. I'd pop it in the VCR player (yes, old school, I know) and watching it with my little brother when I was a little girl. Somewhere around 14 years later, it's still my favorite movie, and probably always will be.

Totoro's story is incredible: it captures the imagination of two girls with very different personalities. Satsuki, the older, responsible girl who takes care of household responsibilities while her mother is sick, and little Mei, a veritable firecracker who's curiosity knows no limits. What made this movie so incredible was how well it captured the imagination of kids their age. Just watching it makes you think back about all those fun things you did when you were younger, whether you're helping your parents with chores or you're outside picking acorns off the grass. I think thanks to this movie, I spent a good chunk of my childhood looking through bushes and trying to find crevices in trees so I could find where Totoro's house was! Ah, lots of memories...

Miyazaki's artwork is stunning. Despite the fact that by now, it's obviously somewhat older, the animation is still superior to anything Disney can throw at us. His specialization in artwork of nature make this film a delightful piece of eye candy.

The music! How cute! The opening sounds like one of those little tunes my mother would sing to me in Korean when I was younger. I've always loved the music in Miyazaki's movies and this one is no exception.

Totoro is easily still my favorite movie in the world for over a decade. Highly recommended to watch, rewatch, and watch with everyone else.

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This movie is perfect, in its own deeply weird way. It is indestructibly built and sprawlingly self-contained. It spends its brief runtime on just half a dozen characters and fewer locations, but i really don’t know if there is a more exhaustive way to explore its heartbreaking, intimate views on hope and dread.

Miyazaki’s best works always embrace the undercurrent of darkness in his concepts, touching on the unsettling to bring the levity more weight. It’s the same here—the threat of death is always present, either Mei's or her mom’s, and the entire film is constructed around the rambling search for a miracle to save their mother’s life. The mom’s sickness remains in the background the whole time, generalizing her disease to an unshakable feeling of bad things on the horizon. And there is nothing Satsuki or Mei can ever do to stop it but live their lives like they believe in the fantastical and have never had a worry in their life. Which they do! Darkness and levity, side by side. 

In this movie the impossible and the real both exist, superimposed. If Totoro is real, then their mom can get better, then their family can end up okay. And he both is real and isn’t, in the same contradictory way that you have hope for the best to get by while knowing that it will never come true in order to act on the chance of succeeding anyway. The dream of Totoro's tree was true but it wasn’t; the miraculous is not singular but all around us, shrouding even the most commonplace things in an indelible sense of magic.

Probably, their mom will die. The dad knows, and the kids know too, somewhere deep inside. But in that moment when Miyazaki cuts to credits, you believe wholly and overwhelmingly that she *will* get better and that things will turn out alright, regardless of the odds. It posits not that hope is effective or powerful—not that it produces results—but that it is indispensable to not break down in the face of it all. That it is an integral part of the human condition. Totoro’s power as a symbol, the microscopic miracles that make up the world around us, is that he lets you believe in the macroscopic miracles as well.

The climate crisis of a civilization is happening in our lifetime. The biggest police brutality protests in a half-century have just accomplished absolutely nothing. We are in the middle of a pandemic that will probably kill tens of thousands more before it’s done. As i am writing this, the future looks terrible—and honestly, nihilism would probably be a perfectly reasonable response. Probably, the earth will collapse in on itself. Probably, Joe Biden will continue in the esteemed tradition of austerity politics and leave vast swathes of the country out to rot in the pandemic and decay in the recession. Probably, we will see police shoot another Black man sometime next year. But in the face of such all-consuming dread and uncertainty, you have to hope. And you have to recognize that hope will do nothing. And you have to do what you can.

This movie means a lot to me. Joe Hisaishi is a legend. Miyazaki is a genius.

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