My Neighbor Totoro

Adding on to the bloated discussion of the question of Assurance/De-assurance of My Neighbor Totoro, I would like to mention the importance of context regarding the film. We talked about the varying scenes of the fantastic and the realistic in various points of the movie- such as the juxtaposition between the marvelous forest and powers of the Totoros and the realistic countryside of postwar Japan.
This is the first point I would like to discuss- that the fantastic has powers to both assure and de-assure. Not only that, but the realistic also has powers to both assure and de-assure. In My Neighbor Totoro, the usage of magic and fantastic is mostly to offer a respite for the little girls in order to assuage their fears about their sick mother. There are few times when the fantastic actually unsettles. However, one does wonder why the Cat-Bus has so many legs and such yellow and even leering eyes.
In contrast, the reality in the film very much offers, in my opinion, conflicting sensations of comforting and unsettling. When we see the final arrival of the dad in the movie, we share the same sense of relief shared by the girls. This transition from the fantastic to the realistic offers a perfect way to assure the audience- we are so glad that the Dad arrived that we forget about Totoro and the magical. The joy of reality, however, is short-lived as very soon the girls find out that the return of their mother from the hospital is postponed due to some additional unexplained illness. And in a subsequent turn of events, the reality worsens as Satsuke becomes lost in wild.
So far we have only talked about My Neighbor Totoro in relation to its narrative, but if we shift attention to the reality offered by other than the story of the two girls and their parents, we may find that the reality unsettles us even more. In a first example, when the family first moves into their new house, it is rickety and barely seems to be able to hold up itself. This is reminiscent of the state of affairs immediately after the war, and I believe the film is meant to show this- the primitiveness and desolation of post-war Japan. In a second example, in the scenes when the girls travel from their house to the hospital, we see more of the rural and economic destitution of the nation- a long, thin, unpaved road that can barely hold traffic, and the multitude of farmers working in the rice paddies alongside the road.
Finally, in a sort of meta-context, we should remember that My Neighbor Totoro was released along with a companion- the classic anti-war animation Grave of the Fireflies. It was intended at the time for the two films to complement each other; Grave dramatic remembers the hopelessness of post-war Japan and thus suffered in the box office for its overly realistic portrayal, on the other hand Totoro was supposed to mitigate the emotional despair by offering reassurance. At the same time, one could reason that the very fact that both films relate back to the war at all begs the audience to sympathize with, and thus emotionally attach to, the on-screen portrayals of the impoverished citizenry.

Castle in the Sky

One of the themes we talked about in class last week was the theme on class/caste division- such as that between people of the sky (Sheeta) and people who lived on the earth (Pazu). One conclusion we reached was the transcendence of his class status by Pazu, who rose from the "Earthly" to the "Heavenly" by virtue of his connection with Sheeta. However, I feel that this particular relation is especially the way in which we should not look at Castle in the Sky. The foremost reason is that this point of view is one of the past. That is, it is one that existed in the history of Laputa, and not in the present. As Muska recalls to Sheeta, the people of the sky were once superior and mighty leaders of the world and their magic and machines ruled all of the earth. And in those times, the status of being part of the "Sky People" might well have been one that attracted universal desire and admiration but- with the declination of that civilization and the migration from the sky to the earth- not anymore.

In the present, there exist no longer the forgotten people of Laputa, except for two- Sheeta and Muska. There also no longer exist a division in class between those who live above the earth and those who live on it. For now, no one remembers the past glory of Laputa, again except for Muska. Indeed, if there is anyone who attempts to cross between castes it is the evil Muska himself. Muska, as we see in the film, tries all he could to restore the former potential of Laputa and instill within himself all of that power. Thus, Muska attempts to forgo his earthly bounds and reach for the sky, metaphorically and realistically, and create a class that contains only himself (although he also claims Sheeta as part of this caste). But he fails. The reason for Muska's failure has been given throughout the film- it is human's unfailing endeavor to become all-powerful, be it with technology or magic or both. That was the Achilles heel of the old Laputa- the insatiable taste for power- and it is also the downfall of Muska who embodies the brief reemergence of a new Laputa.

On the other hand, while Sheeta may be the heir to the old and powerful civilization- the last of her caste (along with Muska), it is clear that she reviles the aspect of Laputa that is represented by Muska. This attitude has been instilled in Sheeta by her grandmother, who cautioned her to never use her spells unless in grave danger, as well as the old man in the cave (Uncle Pom), who reminds both Sheeta and Pazu that magic originates from the earth, not from the sky. We see this attitude displayed as Sheeta refuses to be the "queen" of Laputa when given the chance and insists on returning to the earth with Pazu. Sheeta, as we come to learn, sees herself as belonging to the earth, and not as royalty that is part of a long lost past. She lives alone on an isolated farm and supports herself single-handedly after the deaths of her parents and grandmother, and does not even find out about her past until revealed by Muska.

And when I look at Pazu, I don't see a boy that is tired and disillusioned with his community. Instead, I see a boy that is surprised and fascinated with the object that has just fallen from the sky, as well as with the stories of his father's adventures. And when given the chance, Pazu jumps on the adventure with enthusiasm- not because of any pejorative feelings for his community, but rather because of the excitement and unknown that lie beyond it. In addition, having seen all of Miyazaki's films, it is never the director's intention, as far as I can tell, to have his characters stand for something as superficial as class status, even though one can read it this way. In contrast, the director's intention here, as in many of his other films, is to highlight the futility in humans' unending search for fame and fortune without regards to the balance of nature (embodied by the sky and earth respectively). Humans are meant to live as part of the earth as one entity, and not separated by class, potential of magic or technology , or illusions of power.

Nausicaa

The second time watching the anime, there are quite a few details I that enjoy to have noticed. The color blue, as we can tell from the legend of the messiah to the "calm" eye color of the ohmu, is an all important theme in Nausicaa. However, those are not the only moments of the film when the color helps to construct the narrative and becomes a central plot device. Even from the very start, blue is immediately made crucial to the plot and obviously important to the audience. As we see Nausicaa gliding through the air on her glider and then disembarking and entering the cave in the opening scene, the blue dress that the princess wears camouflages her to the background of the cave wall as well as the open sky. This suggests that the princess has an innate affinity with nature and the open forest, both of which are shunned by the rest of the world for their poison.
In fact, one can even go as far as saying that Nausicaa belongs to the "wild" more than she belongs to the civilized environment of human society. This view is further supported when the audience sees the frustration and anger that surface from within Nausicaa when she is constrained to civilization and her subsequent desire to return to the wild. We see these with the death of Nausicaa's father and Yupa's discovery of her underground laboratory that serves a refuge for Nausicaa in her times of distress. No scene is more obvious, however, than the one that shows Nausicaa struggling against the soldiers of Pejite and crying, "Let my fly!" as she attempts to fly back to warn her people of the ohmu invasion. Beside the obvious intent of getting back on her glider, the quote may well have revealed a sub-conscious longing to fly forever and escape from the death and fighting among humans.
One more comment on Nausicaa's flying- her glider, when looked from afar, looks very much like a bird and I believe it to be far from unintentional on the part of Miyazaki- she is meant to be a bird at heart.

A few other things which grabbed my attention while watching the film, but may have not had important consequences in the film. They are the eerie resemblance of Lord Yupa's arrival in the valley of the wind to the arrival of Gandalf in the Shire in the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring, and the one and only mention of "God" when Nausicaa prays for the safety of the valley (this surprised me as there is no blatant religious overtone whatsoever in any other part of the film).