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Ambition is contagious, and Mimi wo Sumaseba stands in a separate category among Studio Ghibli's filmography. It manufactured a subdued idea of romanticism, in this case, toward the arts. Even as I say this, I'm still inclined to maintain neutrality regarding Yoshifumi Kondou's direction slightly deviating from what had been established by Miyazaki and Takahata alternating up to that point (excluding Umi ga Kikoeru) because the film's reserved personality is not without its pros and cons. Two students stumble upon a chance encounter through books, sparking a connection that's only genuinely romantic in its outcome, not subtext. It's unclear when their relationship takes that substantial step from just mutual encouragement, mostly figuratively, as you're eventually aware much has happened, but the freeform pace refuses to indicate progression, allowing a natural state of blissful daily life encompassing joys and sorrows alike. However, the very things that appeal to the patient viewer may pose faulty believability to the attentive one. The leads' dynamic isn't concurrently developed, so their shared feelings are already doubtful; furthermore, the extension of implications in the final act diverts into blind optimism while retconning a somewhat unnecessary detail, a conclusion I would've preferred to be vague.
The production values are uniformly solid across the board, namely general animation. There are numerous impressive instances of motion, and I was particularly attracted to the character acting, although not an uncommon trait for Ghibli features. Nonetheless, the minor changes in body language and the storyboarding in lengthy cuts are engaging. Mimi wo Sumaseba's color scheme is a familiar one, as the sun-dappled settings in a suburban location effectively create the mood of a close-knit town, accompanied by a fairly upbeat score from Yuji Nomi, including a questionable Japanese rendition of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads". I was fond of the fantastical sequence, which I consider an important distinction between this and the studio's actual fantasy films, not because of the obvious genre difference, but the pure accessibility of a coming-of-age tale that successfully conceptualizes imagination as a talent. Kondou's shot framing is intimate, and the visual directing softly incorporates recurring metaphors, only barred by sometimes underwhelming sound design. There is satisfaction in witnessing the birth of inspiration, even more so when one is the influence.
