My Neighbor Totoro
This movie was my introduction to Studio Ghibli before I even know what Studio Ghibli was. I watched My Neighbor Totoro so much growing up. So much. Its frames are essentially imprinted in my mind, so returning to it is emotional just from the familiarity alone – not to mention the intentionally emotional story beats.
Those beats are also ingrained deeply in my consciousness. I don’t know how else to say it, but I FELT this movie as a child. It captured my imagination so entirely that my emotions were right there for the taking. I have visceral memories of watching this movie, and they come flooding back every time I re-watch it.
You guys know what I’m talking about – we all have these movies.
Because of the simplicity and purity of the story telling, the emotions I feel today, as an adult, are not that different than those I felt so deeply as a kid. I think this is a rarity in re-visiting films from our childhood.
Just as an example, the first time I re-watched Disney’s The Little Mermaid as an adult, (having not seeing it since I was probably 8)… It would be an understatement to say I was disappointed. Somehow the movie I remembered loving as a kid, the emotions I felt, the journey it took me on. They weren’t there when I watched it as an adult – it felt almost as if I was watching an entirely different movie.
Don’t worry, I now appreciate that film for what it is and have found a whole new love for it.
I’m just saying that the weight of the childhood experience can shade the way these movies impact us when we revisit them – sometimes negatively.
The flip can be true as well I suppose – a fondness or nostalgia could lead us to look past flaws that others might find glaring. Definitely true.
Regardless, it’s such a nice feeling when something that meant something to you as a child can still mean something to you as an adult. I’m not just talking about nostalgia here. The emotions I feel when I re-watch this movie are not the happy/sad feelings of remembering how this movie used to make me feel. I’m truly feeling everything all over again.
It’s quite special and I know I’m probably not the only one who feels that way about this film.
SPOILER ZONE
Even as a kid, I knew that this was different from other animation films in my regular rotation. It stood apart from the others (although even then I have to say I had excellent taste in my favorites). It’s hard to say why, but fair warning – I’m going to spend the rest of this post pretty much trying to figure that out.
Let’s start by taking (more than) a minute to appreciate the animation in this movie. (I know, I know… Hot take: Miyazaki films are good at animation…)
For me, the animation finds a way to be at once visceral, grounded and real, while also being completely ethereal, magical and imaginative. How does it do that?? Like how a Cat Bus magically appears in front of Satsuki, and yet she sinks deeply into the bench inside and can dig her fingers into its fur.
Like how the Cat Bus moves faster than it seemingly should, flying effortlessly, but causes the grass on the ground to ripple with the violent wind it generates.
Its Totoro’s light grip on his too-small umbrella or his easy jumping with his too-big form paired with the weight of the raindrops as they come crashing down and they sound they make on the ground and on Satsuki’s umbrella
It’s how Totoro floats to the top of his tree while the girls cling to his fur, wind whipping in their face. It’s his complete silence except for the earth-rattling roar he emits.
I could go on and on, but I think it’s this dichotomy, the ethereal and the visceral, that made these images so impactful on me as a child and the reason they have stayed with me through the years.
I can’t begin to analyze how the animation is able to do this. Likely, that is a job for some true animation experts, and I’m sure there are pages and pages already written about it.
But, it’s worth taking a step back to truly appreciate the effect it has on the audience, and especially the impact it has when that audience is intended to be children. Other Miyazaki films like Princess Mononoke or even Howl’s Moving Castle have more adult themes or darker images. Of course, I still love these movies, I watch them over and over again, I think about them when I’m not watching them. But, to me, the combination of Miyazaki’s animation with the purity of storytelling in My Neighbor Totoro is something truly special.
The Sisters
Another reason this movie connected with me as a child and, I think, holds up as an adult is that I can’t think of a truer representation of children in animation. The two sisters, how they act, how they react. You identify as a child and you recognize as an adult. It’s so pure and so real.
PLUS who doesn’t want to live in a world where there are forest spirits living in the woods behind your house that come to visit you, although you may not be able to always see them? As a kid, I know this was an extremely appealing idea to me. It was and remains a dream of mind. In fact, I say let’s all go through life assuming that is the world we live in. It doesn’t hurt anything and I think it makes everything feel a little more connected, a little more beautiful and a little more fun.
Like the animation style, the story mixes the magical with the real.
Back to the verity of the sisters…. I think this struck me the most upon this re-watch. One of my favorite examples is the way Mei chases Satsuki around whenever they are together. Just a few feet behind, mirroring everything her big sister does. Satsuki does a cartwheel, Mei tries one. Satsuki runs, Mei runs. Satsuki finds an acorn, Mei wants one too!
I also love how the sisters yell loudly when they are frightened to scare off whatever they fear (in this case the dust spirits). Eyes wide they shout “Come out!” or “ARGHHH”. Along these line, I cannot get enough of the way Mei grabs her dress when she is scared in the attic, but determined to be brave. It’s so real, such a toddler behavior.
Similarly, when Satsuki runs to find a telephone to reach her father, Mei races after her. She loses her. When Satsuki finds her, her face is scrunched. It’s the face of a toddler who is angry because she felt left behind, frustrated that she’s too small and too young, and scared that she lost her sister. When she opens her mouth, a simple wail comes out.
Regarding Satsuki – the way she tries so hard to be good, responsible, patient, calm, positive and brave for her sister (but also for her father)… I think anyone who’s an oldest sibling can feel this responsibility even if it’s subconsciously. Almost even more real are the cracks we see in her calm - when she snaps at Mei or breaks down to Granny by the water pump. These moments remind us she too is just a little girl.
I identified so much with everything these girls were feeling. I’ve never had a parent sick in the hospital, but that’s what I mean about the purity of this movie. The feelings and expressions are so true, the plot and circumstances are almost irrelevant.
NOTE: In a bit of research I learned that this film is semi-autobiographical, and that Miyazaki’s mother was hospitalized for some time with tuberculosis. Perhaps that is what makes the emotions feel so real throughout this film. Or, I think it might just be that he’s a brilliant storyteller.
The Dichotomy
The overwhelming tone of this film is a combination of sad, fearful and hopeful. Seemingly opposite emotions, but isn’t it so human to be feeling them at the same time?
Sometimes sadness or fear leads, and sometimes hope, but they are both ever-present. In the face of fears and sadness we try to remain hopeful. But even in our most optimistic moments, the fears and sadness can linger under the surface.
Even the opening of the movie evokes this – the girls move into the new house. They rush forward with excitement! But quickly, the house seems a little scarier than we thought at first (dust spirits, and heavy winds make us uncertain). The next day, we learn that Mother is in the hospital – now there’s a bit of sadness and some new fears. But the girls remain happy and optimistic both on their way to and from the hospital.
To me, the scene at the bus stop also captures so much of this. The girls arrive happy and excited to meet their father. The first bus comes and goes – no Father. But, they remain hopeful. “I’m sure he’ll be on the next one.” Satsuki says – letting her sister know she needn’t feel scared for their father. However, after what seems like hours, Satsuki can’t stop the worries from creeping up herself. We can see that she’s trying to stay positive – “I’m sure the bus will come soon” she says to Mei (but also to herself).
At this point, the thought of going home without knowing where their father is seems more terrifying than just staying still and waiting. Waiting and doing everything you can to hold the worst thoughts at bay. She holds them off (with the help of Totoro), but you can see those fears were lurking pretty close to the surface, building with every second. When her father finally arrives, she rushes forward and he’s surprised by her emotional reaction
It’s the same when Mei disappears. The neighbors are calm, resolute, conducting a search, holding off their fears. When Granny shows Satsuki the shoe that might be Mei’s, we see it on her face. She’s held the worst thoughts at bay – she still has hope. It might not be Mei’s. But, the fear that the shoe does belong to Mei, that she’s drowned, is great and ever-growing. Then tension is right there on her face, it’s almost like she’s begging Satsuki for the news she hopes to hear. When Satsuki confirms that the shoe isn’t Mei’s, Granny collapses from the relief.
And maybe that’s also part of why this connected so much with me as a child. As a kid, you are feeling everything at once, but you don’t quite understand why. You see adults feeling the same, but rarely being honest about it. Any explanation from parents or elders feels like a simplification and doesn’t acknowledge how complex and difficult life really is. Yet, in this movie, you see something that actually feels true to your experience. I couldn’t get enough of it then, and I still can’t now.
Who knows, maybe I’m completely biased from growing up with this movie. But, as one of the simpler Miyazaki films, I feel it can get sidelined as the “kiddie” one, and this is a tragedy to me. Is it simple? Yes. Is it pure? Sure. Is it told from the perspective of a child? You bet. Does that mean we should stop watching it after the age of 10? You would be doing yourself a huge disservice.
THE BOTTOM LINE:
It’s hard for me to take the emotions out of this one… So I won’t. This movie means a lot to me, but I also know that it’s merits reach well beyond my personal story. While arguably the simplest Miyazaki film, it remains one of the most beautiful to me. I could not recommended it more to anyone who has a child or who has ever been one.
