Howl's Moving Castle

PIXAR Studios, the reigning kings of American animation, work with classic formulas and high concepts. What if toys came to life when kids weren't around? What if kids really did see monsters under their bed when parents turned out the lights?

That's why it's sort of surprising how much all the PIXAR guys worship Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki. Not that he's not an animator to be admired. Miyazaki's films rank among the most visually-impressive traditionally animated films of all time. It's just that his mode of storytelling is so far removed from what PIXAR does. Or what anyone else does, really.

Every Miyazaki film is a completely original, unique, handmade creation. Personally, I think some of them work better than others. But every single one of the man's films contains elaborate flights of fancy, a tremendous outpouring of imagination and ingenuity, and beautiful, richly-detailed animation. Howl's Moving Castle is no different. In fact, along with Nausicaa: Valley of the Wind and Princess Mononoke, I'd say it ranks with Miyazaki's best work to date.

It's without a doubt the best animated film of 2005, and on the short list of the best animated films of the decade thus far. A total triumph.



This is the story of a girl named Sophie, who is turned into an old woman by an evil witch before stumbling upon the enchanted castle of a wizard named Howl, who uses the magic powers of a fire demon named Calcifer to fight against a twisted, tyrannical regime that would engulf the entire world in non-stop war.

Where does Hayao come up with this stuff?

Unlike Miyazaki's last film, Spirited Away, which practically required a Master's Degree in Japanese Folklore just to understand what the hell was going on, Howl's Moving Castle deftly bounces between exciting set pieces. Sure, it's confusing, particularly because most of the main characters have a tendency to morphn into other forms (a standard Miyazaki motif), but the film never gives you a chance to get lost. Carefully following the ins and outs of plot takes a backseat to tone and wild imagery, and even if it doesn't all make total sense, the movie eventually develops a curious logic all its own.

Howl's castle, lumbering on spindly mechanical legs and coughing smoke through a flat, grassy Wasteland, takes on a looming, ominous presence in the film. Like it's master, the castle seems to change its form throughout the film. Sometimes, it's like a small two-story home; other times, it's an amorphous, mysterious cathedral filled with shadowy corridors and secret, locked hideaways. Along with the non-verbal magical scarecrow, Turnip, and the silent dog, the castle demonstrates Miyazaki's amazing ability with character - using only subtle gestures and sound effects, his animation can breathe life into essentailly inanimate objects.

All too often, modern animated films are tempted to fall back on celebrity voice casts to give their characters personality. Honestly, do any of the characters in Shrek define themselves through their physical mannerisms and outward behavior? Even their facial expressions are kind of indistinct - the filmmakers rely on Mike Myers and Eddie Murphy to do the heavy lifting, to make their characters likable.

What Miyazaki and PIXAR share is a reliance on, and reverence for, the techniques pioneered in previous generations, largely by Walt Disney and his early team of animators. Really breathing life into still drawings using craft and careful, studied technique. It's truly something marvelous to see when done correctly. In one scene, Sophie is trying to pull a crashed helicopter (of sorts) out of the front end of the castle. As she pushes with all her force, the castle itself pulls in the opposite direction, and almost seems to wince from the effort. The animation captures the castle's "expression," the intense effort of pulling backwards to free itself from the plane. It's just one amazing sequence out of many.

Additionally, the level of detail in the film's animation is nothing short of remarkable. From the backgrounds teeming with trees, puffy clouds and mountain-side villages to the tiny observed details of Howl's bedroom to the endless grassy fields stretching out into the horizon, every shot of Howl's Moving Castle is downright painterly. A triumph of traditional animated (jazzed up, obviously, for the digital age), Howl's Moving Castle is one of those perfect little counter-points against those who would argue that CG Animation alone is the wave of the future.

So all that being said, if I had to guess as to what Miyazaki's trying to say with the film...I think it's probably something about the confusion of adolesence. Having been transformed into an old woman by the evil Witch of the Waste, Sophie discovers that with age comes certain handicaps and responsibilites, but also great wisdom and confidence. She discovers a world of activity and import beyond her own immediate, personal needs, and finds great satisfaction in helping others and joining with a cause and a community.

But you could probably make up any number of "explanations" for the story of the film. The point isn't so much what specifically is being said, but the way Miyazaki creates an entirely new universe from whole cloth, and populates it with bizarre characters and fascinating innovations.