A-Directed by Mami Sunada Review by Jon Kissel |  |
Studio Ghibli, the Japanese animation house, has enough hits and great films to stand side by side with any other studio. Founded by directors Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata and producer Toshio Suzuki, Ghibli has reliably cranked out masterpieces for thirty years, including My Neighbor Totoro, Grave of the Fireflies, and Spirited Away. Masters work there, transporting viewers to magical realms and enrapturing them with pure emotional storytelling. In The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness, Mami Sunada visits the grounds of Studio Ghibli to record the creation of Miyazaki's and Takahata's latest films. Sunada takes a Wiseman-esque fly on the wall approach, plopping her camera down, melting into the furniture, and recording the normal workings of Ghibli at an abnormal time. Luckily for her, Miyazaki is in a reflective mode, opining on his career and the state of Japan while he races to finish what may be his final film.
Spending time with the three founders allows Sunada to demonstrate their complementary manners. Takahata appears to be the tortured genius, rarely on camera as he struggles to release his film, The Tale of Princess Kaguya, on schedule. Compared to Miyazaki, his films have always been more serious and internal, so his mien is not terribly surprising and he doesn't get enough screentime to suggest differently. Suzuki is an accommodator, doing whatever he can to make sure his partners get what they need. He's a cheerful presence and a producer's producer, able to motivate his directors into taking new projects and lightly cajoling them with constructive criticism. Time with Miyazaki takes up the vast majority of the film. Based on how difficult he is to pin down, this is a suitable choice. Permanently clad in an apron with a shock of white hair, he could be a Japanese Santa, and he often exudes the jolliness that goes along with that role. He's also deeply introspective and occasionally morose, wondering what he did all these films for.
In capturing an old man plumbing the depths of his life, The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness elevates itself. It would have been easy and still enlightening for Sunada to make this a workplace, process-oriented doc. There is some of that, and it's fascinating to watch Miyazaki work, but watching an icon earnestly question his icon status is the stuff that great documentaries are made of. Sunada surely couldn't have known she would be making this kind of film when Ghibli agreed to let her film. She begins her film with gentle strings over shots of the reverent Ghibli facility, settling on the Totoro cutout that marks the entrance. This is a unique place, but within, a man is grappling with universal regrets and questions as his life's work comes to an end.
To see Miyazaki wonder if everything he's done is worth it, when it so plainly is, is devastating. How can the giddy madness of Spirited Away be the fruit of a mere 'hobby?' How can a man who beautifully instilled rapturous joy in My Neighbor Totoro be such a pessimist? If a pessimist is an optimist that has been disabused of his earlier hope, then Miyazaki fits that bill. In seeing the rise of a more militaristic society within his country, the man who has repeatedly put anti-war messages in his films is coming to terms with their inconsequential nature. Born during WWII, Miyazaki recalls his first memory of fleeing from the fire bombings, and of how his father allowed a family to stay with them after their home burnt down. In awe of his father's generosity, he wonders what that family would think of the world if the door had been shut to them. Those ripples in a communal pond are exactly the kind of impacts that Miyazaki's films have had on peoples' lives, and it's a tragedy if he cannot see it that way.
Even with his pessimism, Miyazaki is an irresistible figure. His final film also happened to be his most adult, and the only one he says made him cry. The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness ends with his retirement press conference. A few scenes earlier, he wonders if he's happy. If this man, with all he's built and all the happiness he's engendered in his fans, isn't happy, who could be? A-
In capturing an old man plumbing the depths of his life, The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness elevates itself. It would have been easy and still enlightening for Sunada to make this a workplace, process-oriented doc. There is some of that, and it's fascinating to watch Miyazaki work, but watching an icon earnestly question his icon status is the stuff that great documentaries are made of. Sunada surely couldn't have known she would be making this kind of film when Ghibli agreed to let her film. She begins her film with gentle strings over shots of the reverent Ghibli facility, settling on the Totoro cutout that marks the entrance. This is a unique place, but within, a man is grappling with universal regrets and questions as his life's work comes to an end.
To see Miyazaki wonder if everything he's done is worth it, when it so plainly is, is devastating. How can the giddy madness of Spirited Away be the fruit of a mere 'hobby?' How can a man who beautifully instilled rapturous joy in My Neighbor Totoro be such a pessimist? If a pessimist is an optimist that has been disabused of his earlier hope, then Miyazaki fits that bill. In seeing the rise of a more militaristic society within his country, the man who has repeatedly put anti-war messages in his films is coming to terms with their inconsequential nature. Born during WWII, Miyazaki recalls his first memory of fleeing from the fire bombings, and of how his father allowed a family to stay with them after their home burnt down. In awe of his father's generosity, he wonders what that family would think of the world if the door had been shut to them. Those ripples in a communal pond are exactly the kind of impacts that Miyazaki's films have had on peoples' lives, and it's a tragedy if he cannot see it that way.
Even with his pessimism, Miyazaki is an irresistible figure. His final film also happened to be his most adult, and the only one he says made him cry. The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness ends with his retirement press conference. A few scenes earlier, he wonders if he's happy. If this man, with all he's built and all the happiness he's engendered in his fans, isn't happy, who could be? A-
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