Submitted by Justin Sevakis on 20 September 1999:
With no further ado, here is my review of Yamada-kun
My Neighbors the Yamadas
Vintage: 1999
Company: Shochiku Films/Studio Ghibli
Length: 104 Min.
Version reviewed: Theatrical subtitle
Not available... yet!
All Ages (Nothing objectionable)
While
the rest of New York City was singing Konya wa Hurricane a few days
ago, the faithful of us got in line at Museum of Modern Art on 53rd Street
between 5th and 6th avenues to see the collective work of our God-figures,
Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata, better known as Studio Ghibli. I had my
ticket, and was all set to get in on Thursday when the crew announced that
due to the weather, they, along with the rest of Manhattan, would be
shutting down at 2 PM. While paper-pushers all over the city grinned as
they got a half-day off, those of us that had come for the North American
premiere of My Neighbor the Yamadas grimaced, lugging our dead
bodies plus eight pounds of water that had blown past our umbrellas back
to wherever we came from.
Today
was a different matter entirely. After being treated to theatrical
subtitled presentations of Porco Rosso (which went over very well), Grave
of the Fireflies (not a dry eye in the house, despite a subtitling job
that was so bad, they mixed up dialogue between Setsuko and the aunt), and
a rare presentation of On Your Mark, we finally got to see the
newest Ghibli film, seen for the first time outside of Japan. My
Neighbors the Yamadas stuck out like a sore thumb in the company of
past Ghibli works, but standing on its own, it works quite well.
The
Yamadas are a fairly normal Japanese family... There's husband and wife
Takashi and Matsuko, kids Noboru and Nonoko, and grandma Shige, as well as
Pochi the Dog. In the style of the newspaper comic by Hisaichi Ishi, the
film is presented as a series of ongoing vignettes, some of which continue
for a while, while others are short and self-contained. Most of them are
quite charming, and all offer the same insight into the characters as the
best comic strips do.
A
typical scenario involved the family coming back from a trip to the mall,
only to discover that they've left daughter, doe-eyed Nonoko, behind!
Nonoko comes to the conclusion that every single member of her family has
gone astray. While she's keeping her cool and helping out a smaller child
that lost his mother, the rest of the family is going insane trying to
figure out where she could be. Another incident involves Grandma Shige
trying to stare down a motorcycle gang. There's also Mr. Yamada's flight
of fancy as the Masked Rider, and the day Mrs. Yamada put too much ginger
in the miso soup, throwing the whole family into a total short-term memory
breakdown.
Yamadas
is the first Ghibli feature to make liberal use of computers for the
animation process, and in this one, new techniques were invented to make
each piece of art water-color drawn, something that would have been
impossible with traditional animation techniques. Several items are
obviously rendered and rotoscoped (although never losing that ink-sketched
look), and while the final product probably wasn't worth the insane
production costs and delays, it is visually striking and quite unique,
especially when matched with the wit of a newspaper comic strip and the
optimistic Takahata sense of humor that was saw glimpses of in Pom-Poko.
The result is somewhere between My Neighbor Totoro and the
collective works of animator Bill Plympton.
While
the subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) commentary about family life in
Japan is a real breath of fresh air in terms of humor and satire in anime,
the entire look and concept of Yamadas makes it sadly unmarketable to the
mainstream media market of any country. Yamadas disappointed in the
Japanese box office (they're hoping to make back some amount of money from
video sales), and many Ghibli fans came away disappointed with the
minimalist art style and lack of a contiguous story. While most of the
complainers are obviously missing the forest for the trees, it's easy to
see their point. And while Takahata may have drawn out his fantasy a bit
longer than was necessary (like in Pom-Poko), the real rewards are
the same deep characters that we get from only the best comic strips in
America. The wacky sense of nostalgia with which the film approaches
childhood and family bickering brought back memories of Bill Watterson's
timeless "Calvin & Hobbes" strip... In my mind, there are
certainly worse things to dredge up.
Justin Sevakis
Editor-in-chief, AnimeNewsNetwork.com
Submitted by Justin Sevakis on 28 September,
1999:
The typically senior citizen audience approached
these typically open-mindedly, and as I egged them on and told them of
just how widely acclaimed the films were, and at some point a few of them
started to lionize me! Bizarre... just for knowing about Ghibli!! I got
the typical questions for those new to anime ("Why are their eyes so
big? / Why do they look Caucasian?"), which I answered to the best of
my ability.
I already posted the incident where Miyazaki-sama
himself came in, nearly causing me to mess my pants. ^_^ I'll not
embarrass myself further.
About the prints... Most of them were pristine
and obviously new. Yamada-kun was subtitled oddly, in the black
portion below the frame, causing it to not fit properly on screen. The
poor projectionist was going nuts trying to figure out how to frame it
properly. I *THINK* he ended cutting off the top of the screen, but I'm
not sure. Still looked great, and I loved the translation. Parts of Kiki
(mostly the beginning) were a bit beat-up looking, but Omoide Poro Poro
was a MESS. It looked to be spliced together from different prints (each
reel had different tinting & projection depth, causing poor focus),
looked like it was shown after being drug through a sandbox filled with
messy kids and juice boxes, and had subtitles that were horribly
translated by someone who obviously didn't know Japanese very well and
didn't seem to have too firm a grasp of English either.
As I've already mentioned, the sub of Grave of
the Fireflies was NOT the Central Park Media translation, and was
rather weak as well. (Lots of spelling and grammar errors, as well as
mixing up some lines of dialogue.) However, most of the translations were
wonderful, with Porco Rosso being one of the best I've ever seen.
They actually managed to faithfully translate all of the pig jokes! Totoro
was also very good, although I was disappointed that they didn't translate
the fun opening theme.
By the end of the festival, everyone had fallen
in love with Ghibli, and Porco Rosso went over especially well.
Parents could be heard ranting and raving after Totoro just how wonderful
it was. It was quite special.
Justin Sevakis
Editor-in-chief, AnimeNewsNetwork.com
Submitted
by Pamela Scoville (via Andrew Osmond) on 3 October, 1999:
*JUST YOU WAIT A
MoMA!*
From September 16 through September 27 the Museum
of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York was home to a retrospective of Ghibli
movies, and fans of the great Japanese animators Hayao Miyazaki and Isao
Takahata flocked -- among them *Pamela D. Scoville* of the Animation Art
Guild, yearning publicly to learn more about anime and not so publicly for
... but read on and find out for yourself. -- Andrew Osmond
It wasn't MoMA's fault that Hurricane Floyd
washed out (almost literally!) the first evening of the Ghibli
retrospective, but there were other problems in trying to catch every
movie -- as husband Paul and I did -- that could have been avoided. The
timings of the screenings seemed fairly haphazard, so that in order to
catch them all one had to watch one's diary with a ruthless military
precision: was today's evening performance going to be at 5pm, 6pm, 8pm or
...? We got only one of them wrong, accordingly missing the first
half-hour of Miyazaki's Porco Rosso. Another evening we arrived in
good time for a 5pm screening of Takahata's Whisper of the Heart
only to be told that, at the last minute, the start had been put back
until 6pm; the cinema was only half-full that evening, and we suspect the
empty seats represented the people who hadn't been able to change their
plans for the latter part of the evening. Publicity was virtually
nonexistent: we first heard about the festival from a UK friend rather
than from anything we came across in New York -- indeed, the only
publicity we ever saw was in MoMA's members-only releases.
And more important than all of this was that
there was a food ban in the theatre ... which meant: NO POPCORN.
The plan had been to start the retrospective off
with a bang on the evening of the 16th with the US premiere of Takahata's
new movie, My Neighbors the Yamadas. Thanks to Hurricane Floyd,
this was shifted to the 17th, replacing Only Yesterday (screened
again later). The result was that, grimly popcornless, we saw it directly
after Takahata's classic about devastated wartime and postwar Japan, Grave
of the Fireflies, which made the two movies either a grotesque
mismatch or a perfect pairing, depending on your attitude -- one dour,
depressing, very moving and (with reservations about the animation; as
with so much anime cartooned rather than acted facial expressions)
brilliant, the other in a completely different, caricaturist style I've
never seen in anime before, and also brilliant in its own hilariously
funny mode. Actually, I liked having the relief of Yamadas after
the austerity of Fireflies as otherwise we'd have gone home gloomy.
Sunday 19th, and it was My Neighbor Totoro,
Miyazaki's charming fable of a magical rural creature. This was probably
my own favorite movie of the festival, popcorn or no popcorn, although
Paul was distressed by the way it suddenly ended, seemingly leaving much
of the story still to be told. That evening we missed the first half-hour
of Miyazaki's Porco Rosso, as noted, but what we saw was enough to
make us decide to pick up the video if ever we saw it.
The following day was another with two movies. In
the afternoon there was Yoshifumi Kondo's Whisper of the Heart
(with screenplay, storyboard and production by Miyazaki), a long (2hr)
story of youthful love and awakening potential in Tokyo. Sounds grim, but
in fact it was utterly entrancing; we were both surprised when it came to
an end, because it certainly didn't feel as if two hours had passed. Once
more I was distracted by some of the animation, in particular the
rudimentary way in which walking was animated. Paul just loved the
movie without qualification. In the evening we saw Miyazaki's Nausicaä
of the Valley of the Wind, a post-environmental-apocalypse movie which
Paul liked (although, he confessed, not as much as the first time he'd
seen it) and I didn't. It had some lovely bits, but not enough of them. By
the time it was halfway done I was sorely needing popcorn.
We had a day off, then on Thursday watched
Takahata's PomPoko. The first half-hour was tremendous, but Paul
was not alone in catnapping during the remainder; if I'd wanted to start a
riot over the ban on popcorn this would have been the time to do it,
because most of the people in the cinema seemed just to be hanging in
there stoically, no one wanting to be the first to sneak out. This was the
only screening we saw in which the audience didn't applaud at the end.
Another day off. Saturday saw us at a midday
screening of Miyazaki's Castle in the Sky (aka Laputa,
etc.). This was pretty good, and Paul thought it was better than that.
He'd liked it a fair amount on video, but was startled by how much more he
enjoyed it on the big screen, theorizing that perhaps the video version
he'd seen had been unwisely edited. He added that he was disappointed that
The Castle of Cagliostro wasn't showing in the festival; although
it's not a Ghibli movie it's a Miyazaki one, and he felt it would have
nicely rounded things out.
By a
coincidence-that-was-presumably-no-coincidence, on Sunday there was, not
as part of MoMA's retrospective but as one of the movies on show at the
New York Film Festival at Lincoln Center, the US premiere of the
English-language version of the Miyazaki/Ghibli hit Princess Mononoke,
in its original Japanese version one of the biggest box-office successes
of all time. Presumably the MoMA organizers had been brought in to help
out the folk at the Lincoln Center: not only was there still no popcorn,
but the performance started 25 minutes late, by which time the audience --
who felt they deserved at least some kind of public apology for the delay,
having paid $14+ per seat -- were slow-handclapping. Finally a panjandrum
appeared with the sorry explanation: "These things take time."
This was so patronizing -- he might have done us the courtesy of lying --
that it made the audience angrier. This was a pity, because unbeknownst to
us Miyazaki himself was waiting in the wings ready to say a few
introductory words. Before his appearance various other people involved in
the production were introduced, notably Neil Gaiman, responsible for the
English-language adaptation and for some reason obviously regarded by the
panjandrum as less important in the scheme of things than, say, the duo
responsible for casting the voices. Which they had done very badly: all
through the movie we were conscious that we were watching a
near-masterpiece but that somehow it wasn't stirring us the way it
should, and this was attributable to the voice-track -- not the
adaptation, which was perfectly serviceable, but the voicing itself, which
was poorly cast and flatly directed. We both decided that we'd like to see
the Japanese-with-subtitles version; contrary to the usual case, this may
well be the version of choice.
After Mononoke we ate with a couple of
anime experts. The excellent Ryoko Toyama, in California for a few months
from Japan to research at Berkeley, was in New York for only a couple of
days to catch the screening; she's been a friend of a friend for a while,
so it was great to meet her in person. Also with us was Tom Wilkes, who'd
bravely come to New York on a day trip from Boston for the premiere, and
was catching a 1.00am train home that night; we thoroughly enjoyed meeting
him as well, and hope to see more of both in future. The fact that this
was so emphasized something else we'd been saying about the MoMA festival:
this dinner was precisely the sort of outing you expect at a festival,
where part of the whole event is that you meet people of like mind and
make new friends. Because of the very scattered nature of the MoMA
screenings, there was none of this. Why couldn't they have concentrated
everything into a couple of weekends, so that between the movies something
of this festival/convention spirit would have been spontaneously
generated?
It was back to MoMA the following day for the
final item of the retrospective, Takahata's Only Yesterday. This
didn't start well, and not just because I was grumpy about the great
popcorn dearth. We were stuck in front of a Pompous Anime Bore who was
pontificating to some Adoring Acolyte about his wondrous knowledge of the
field, which knowledge seemed to consist of reeling off long lists of
movie titles each punctuated by "And I've got a copy of that".
Paul made a weak joke about hoping the MoMA organizers hadn't without
notice replaced the movie with a documentary on Japanese agriculture,
which proved unfortunate because, midway through, this overlong film, what
should turn up but a tedious polemic on the virtues of organic farming?
The subtitling was also unfortunate, being in parts incomprehensible. One
line had the female narrator, slowly falling in love with handsome Toshio,
apparently say: "That summer Toshio showed me many pleasurable things
on the farm." This made Paul snort. Matters got worse when we heard
squeaks from the Adoring Acolyte behind us as he tried desperately not to
giggle in the presence of the Pompous Anime Bore. Not the way to treat
Great Art, but it passed five minutes of what was, as noted, an overlong
movie -- although I enjoyed it more than Paul did.
All in all, we were glad to have undergone our
ten anime-packed days, but equally glad to get life back onto a more
sensible schedule again. Most of the movies were interesting and deserving
of a second view; some were excellent, or at least thoroughly enjoyable
(which is, come to think of it, much the same thing). Neither of us had
known much about anime beforehand, and had seen far less of it than our
professional interests would recommend; of course, that still pertains,
but at least we feel better equipped to explore the rest of the world of
anime. So in that respect we owe a hearty thanks to MoMA for staging this
retrospective.
Pamela Scoville
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