From: R. J. Dalton
It's been a long time since I actually sat down and watched a movie, but, after class, job, school work and the requiste two hours a day of reading, I found I had some spare time (where it came from, I haven't the slightest clue). I decided to watch Totoro, which I've had in my collection for months, but haven't found the time to really sit down and enjoy.
I could go on about the general beauty of Miyazaki's work, but I've done that more than enough times. This time, I'd like to talk about the small moments; for, as all good Miyazaki accolytes understand, it's the little details that make the master's work not just good, but excellent.
So, where to begin?
If ever you get the chance to really analyze Totoro, take a look at the expressions of the characters. I think in Totoro, more than any other film, Miyazaki has captured the expressions of his characters so profoundly, especially so in the case of the children and the creatures.
All of the characters have very simple expressions that are easy to overlook, yet they express so much with their gestures that even when the characters never say a word, volumes of ideas are communicated between them.
For one example, let's look at Kanta, the quiet, shy, but extremely expressive little boy. Kanta is at that age when it's still "wrong" for boys to like girls, and he behaves exactly as would be expected of such an individual. He looks away when he first sees Mei and Satsuki, with a look that says "Oh no, girls!" Later, when he's sent to deliver a package to Ba-chan, he is forced into a conversation with Satsuki. Being shy, he can't seem to form a coherent sentence and simply hands her the bag and runs off, then with his boyhood pride at stake, he runs back and shouts, "Hey, that house is haunted!" as an explanation of his behavior. This kind of subtlety in his relationship with the other characters is continued throughout the film, but, at the same time he does grow more accustomed to their presence.
My favorite example, however, has got to be the big Totoro. At first glance, many of his expressions seem vacant and dull, or over-simplified, but this only seems so to those who are expecting more human-like expressions. Totoro's expressions are a perfect mix between human and animal expressions. It tells that the creature is possessed of human intelligence, but on a simpler scale. From his wide-eyed curiosity, to his big, goofy grin, Totoro expresses the whole range of human emotions with but the smallest change in facial gestures.
These same gestures fill in for all the words the creature never says and then some. In watching each scene with him, you can construct entire wordless conversations. Go ahead and give it a try; imagine for yourself what the creature would be saying if it had the words.
Another brilliant aspect fo the film is the settings. The first image that strikes you is a beautiful pastoral community. Rice feilds around a dusty, country road and in the background, mountains and forests. The location of this town is firmly established, by the little transiant moments that usually wouldn't think about. The long walks it takes to get to any given location, the several hour bike ride to get to the hospital, and many other moments give you a sense of location for a town that's as close to the middle of nowhere you can get without actually being there. Other small moments, such as when we're allowed to watch a toad walk across the street in the rain, or a snail crawl up a reed by the river, give you a sense of the general attitude of the setting; laid-back, easy-going, but determined.
And with it's hidden shrines expressing the many secrets the area holds (note the Kitsune statues hidden by the bus stop) the setting has a personality that makes all the more appealing.
The way that all the people come together when Mei gets lost toward the end of the film also gives the community of people a personallity. A hard-working, caring group that centers it's life around serving each other.
There's something invigorating about watching little children. Rold Dahl once said, "There's nothing more dangerous than the adult mind." While he meant it to mean that adults are not really very creative people, I think that the idea behind the quote still applies strongly to this movie. The adult mind is like a dark hallway full of closed doors. Years of exposure to meaningless social protocol has turned their world is a place of can'ts and won'ts. But children, anything is possible to them. An adult may look in a dark forest and see lions and tigers and bears (oh my!), but to a child, that forest may be full of friendly ghosts and creatures willing to help you with your problems. Little children are the most imaginative creatures on the earth and with this film, Miyazaki has perfectly captured the bright-eyed wonder of the young mind. He has also captured the energy, the fearless curiosity and the emotional power of children. To see Mei running around the yard, picking flowers and exploring is a scene so brimming with childish excitement, that you become infected by its energy and emotion. Mei's statement of "You're the flower shop, dad!" is simple, yet so profound in its own way that you can't help but smile.
Another thing that I've always loved about Miyazaki's work is the influence of classic literature. Miyazaki is clearly a literary-minded individual, something which is sadly uncommon in the film world today. It's clear that he not only reads, but enjoys classic novels from all over the world, from Guliver's Travels to The Princess who Loved Insects. The scene with Mei chasing the little white Totoro through the feild, then falling into it's den is evocative of a certain young girl chasing a white rabbit and falling through the rabbit hole into a place beyond imagination. There are so many sublte moments that evoke the power of classic literature that you feel like your reading a good book rather than watching a movie.
All of these elements combine in Totoro to make a statement of the utmost profoundness; sometimes, we need to let go of our foolish adult world and see the beauty of it through the eyes of a child. Christ's commandment to be as little children may not have been on the master's mind when he wrote this story, but it's nonetheless the perfect expression of the sentiment.
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