Nerding Out On: Studio Ghibli

In this week’s Nerding, Screen Editor Jess O’Kane talks Studio Ghibli, the wise old owl of anime and one of Japan’s most recognisable filmmakers.

Japan’s best export since J-Pop and underpant vending machines, Studio Ghibli has been enthralling us since the mid-80’s with achingly gorgeous anime that threatens to make Aardman and Pixar look amateurish.

Image credit: Cartoon Brew

With the release of two new features this year, it’s worth remembering how much times have changed since Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata were just two students in an intensely geeky subculture.

In the years between Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind and 2002’s Oscar nominated Spirited Away, anime has been propelled from a cultural niche into the international market.

Part of this success is a consequence of Ghibli’s willingness to adapt to the interests of Western viewers. Not least, in attracting recognisable actors like Dakota Fanning, Minnie Driver and Billy Crudup to voice their American counterparts.

But more importantly, I think, is Miyazaki and Takahata’s absolute commitment to producing honest, powerful and memorable storytelling. Perhaps more than any other director in recent times, Miyazaki invests in his fantastic worlds and characters as if they were mere extensions of his own. It’s a quality that makes his films unforgettable, unique and universal.

The Classic

There are very few films that can form a truly sophisticated, complex vision without compromising on enjoyment, but Princess Mononoke is one of them.

Image Credit: Miramax Films

Partway between a historical epic, bildungsroman, and ecological meditation, it’s the film that made Miyazaki’s name in the West and which for many still defines his artistic oeuvre.

Set during the Muromachi period, the film euphemises political conflict in the form of a demon boar god, Nago, who curses a young prince called Ashitaka with superhuman strength that will eventually kill him.

As he journeys to find a cure, Ashitaka’s struggle is played out upon Miyazaki’s astonishingly beautiful landscape, which comes to signify both protection and alienation. The real struggle is between man and this precious ecosystem, a theme that seems particularly poignant as Japan joins the West in becoming increasingly industrialised.

The Cult Favourite

A word to the wise: don’t watch Grave of the Fireflies if you’re feeling at all despondent with life.

It’s a despairing, unflinchingly dark sore thumb in the Ghibli catalogue, and one of the best war films ever made. Set during the last year of World War II, the film charts Japan’s rise and decline as a military power through the eyes of two young siblings, Seita and Setsuko.

Image credit: Leeds Film

Like their mother country, the lives of these children are in limbo, hinging on the uncommon kindness of strangers and an aunt who resents their presence.

Left to fend for themselves in the dark underbelly of Sannomiya Station, Takahata powerfully depicts the haunting facelessness of a world that can’t afford to care, imbuing every scene with a melancholic palette of browns and blues.

Grave of the Fireflies is a testament to the fact that animation can go where live action could only scrape the surface. For that reason alone, it remains as brave and affecting a movie as it was over twenty years ago.

The Runt

I hate doing this sometimes, I really do. But hey, even geniuses have bad days, or in this case: sons of geniuses.

After an illustrious career as a landscape gardener and curator of the Ghibli museum, Gorō Miyazaki decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and direct Tales from Earthsea, based on the books by American author Ursula K. Le Guin.

Image credit: Flavor Wire

Visually, it’s every bit as beautiful as we’d expect from a Ghibli film, but if you were expecting all those “mainstream” perks like steady plotting, decent voice acting and sense of direction, then Gorō ain’t got time for that.

Instead what we get is a haphazard gluing of the source material which renders the entire piece aimless and frustratingly convoluted. What could have been an epic tale in the same vein as Mononoke turns into two hours of a hilariously strangled Timothy Dalton muttering life tips at a Prince who looks just as confused as us.

Thankfully, Miyazaki Jr. redeemed himself last year with the far better From Up on Poppy Hill.  Here’s hoping it’s a sign of things to come.

The Verdict

Visually stunning and thematically daring, Studio Ghibli continues to prove the significance of Japanese cinema in the global scene. And perhaps more importantly, their success challenges our conception of what qualifies as cinematic, bankable and feasible. Although, those underpant vending machines are pretty impressive too…

 Jess O’Kane, Screen Online Editor

Superwomen: Empowered and sexy, or made powerless by sexism?

As part of our Comic Week feature we have been reviewing key figures of the comic-book franchise. But we are yet to analyse the role of any superwomen. In answer to this problem, Elizabeth Moore considers the presentation of women within comicbooks. Are they empowered or powerless? Is there a sexist undertone to the highly eroticised images? Do these superwomen present strong role-models? And are their superpowers simply masking a frightening sexualisation?

Comic book heroes are designed to be idealised versions of humanity: strong, beautiful and perfect, representing all that we could be (you know, minus the superhuman powers). But from a female perspective, this is not neccessarily an image that we should idealise. There are three main issues with the portrayal of heroines in graphic novels: bodies, poses, and costume.

All superheroes have impossible physiques; it’s a part of their fantastical appeal, but the way in which these bodies are gendered proves problematic. For example, Superman’s modern appeal comes from his huge muscles and superhuman strength. However, his female counterpart Superwomen has the focus placed upon her sizable breasts. We have to think why these features are prioritised, and let’s be honest, unless Wonder Woman’s chest holds some sort of super power that I don’t know about, we have a simple case of sexualisation and objectification.

Some of you will be aware of the Hawkeye Initiative, a blog that satirising the characterisation of female heroes by drawing Hawkeye in many of the overly-provocative poses that the superwomen are placed in. Pushing his posterior out, extending his limbs ineffectually, and placing his chest and groin as the central focus of the image, Hawkeye looks ridiculous. Although humorous, the sexualised images of women on comic-book covers arguably show them in poses akin to those of page-three models (see Poison Ivy’s seductive stare, and Catwoman’s handling of a fetishised whip as an example). In fact, when you think about it, the ways in which heroines fight in comics would be fairly powerless, their anatomic integrity sacrificed for the sake of showing more leg, or making their chests more visible. Alright, the male poses aren’t exactly structurally powerful, but at least they retain some dignity within it.

Finally, there’s the costumes, spanning from the skin-tight, low cut suits of the deliberately provocative Catwoman to the exhibitionist ‘boob window’ of Power Girl’s unitard: all superwomen find themselves exposing at least one part of themselves for no discernible reason. Think again to Wonder Woman: yes, she could allegedly deflect bullets with her unbreakable bracelets, but at no point does it say that she is completely invulnerable to weaponry, so in what way is it a good idea to run around with not much more on than armour-plated underwear? Perhaps these images signal sexual empowerment, liberation, and freedom? Looking at the combination of suggestive poses and costume, I think not.

Developed during the same time frame as the “pin-up girl” phenomenon, it’s unsurprising that superwomen have taken on this sensualised iconography; years on, why are we still stuck with the same sexualised imagery? Essentially, the times have changed, but the readership has not. The most recent statistics for DC’s “New 52” series show that only 7% of their readership is female, meaning the sphere is still very much a male one, catering to their ideals. But maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. After all, it is only fantasy, and these characters, no matter how controversial, are memorable. Yes, we could probably do with fewer T&A tributes in female-centred comics, and almost certainly a more realistic spin put on the shapes and costumes of these characters, but what would the appeal of comics be if we sacrificed all their fantastical elements in favour of supposed realism? All that’s needed is a more appropriate balance of fantasy and dignity.

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By Elizabeth Moore