REVIEW: The Tale of Princess Kaguya

It's sometimes easy to forget that Studio Ghibli, the revolutionary Japanese animation studio, was founded by two men. The first, Hayao Miyazaki, has fostered a place in the hearts of audiences worldwide; his films exhibit a boundlessly imaginative evocation of magic and fantasy, of childhood wonder, of passionate pro-ecological and feminist ideology. His fans range from John Lasseter to Jonathan Ross and, in 2001, his film Spirited Away broke ground by being the first foreign film to win the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature.

Yet oft forgotten in these discussions is our second man, Isao Takahata, who, despite never reaching the same level of breath and popularity (at least in the West) as Miyazaki, is arguably equally instrumental to the studio's success. His first film for the studio, Grave of the Fireflies, was overshadowed by the popular My Neighbour Totoro, although it is now considered one of the finest films about Japan in World War II, and one of the finest animated films of all time. His other work is often equally impressive yet critically ignored; only Pom Poko, an oddball eco-fantasy about a group of shape-shifting raccoon dogs, has received an English dub.

However, I hope that his obscurity in the West will be lessened by The Tale of Princess Kaguya, which is on track to become one of my favourite films of the year. It's a masterpiece of spiritual animated beauty, whose exquisite hand-drawn aesthetic is matched by an astonishingly moving and humane story, filled to the brim with realistic and compelling characters.

The story begins with the hallmarks of a classic fairy tale. A woodcutter is harvesting bamboo in the forest, when a sudden beam of light draws his eye to one of the trunks. As he approaches a stem suddenly emerges from the ground in front of him, and unfolds to reveal a tiny woman sitting cross-legged among its roots. He takes it home to his wife and explains that he has been blessed from heaven with a tiny princess; she takes hold of it, and it suddenly transforms into a screaming baby. Without a second thought, the couple decide to raise the child themselves, for what else are they to do?

Only this isn't a normal child, it's one with an abnormally rapid growth pattern. Whenever "Princess" laughs, she grows, and it's not long until she begins playing with the local country boys, who affectionately name her "L'il Bamboo". Takahata treats us to a beautiful vision of accelerated childhood, which should be familiar to anyone who's ever had children. There's also a touch of Totoro charm to it all - Princess and her family lead a life of countryside humility yet they're far from unhappy, particularly when it comes to her exploring nature in a way only a child can. When chasing a pheasant through a forest or stealing from a melon farm it's the details which impress, such as a lingering "pillow" shot of a ladybird leaving its nest, or the wind making ripples in a tumultuous sea of trees.

Much of the appeal comes from the lovely animated style, consciously rougher than previous Ghibli projects but all the more charming for it. It's like a cross between woodblock and watercolour, with exaggerated, personal character designs fitting in seamlessly with realistic depictions of cherry blossom trees. The colour doesn't usually stay within the lines but that's fine, it's the vividness of life that matters, and its impressionistic elements are the icing on the cake; a brilliant sequence mid-way sees our heroine dash through the forest, and the trees turn ashen-grey, like they're drawn with charcoal, to show her distress.

The story soon develops into something recognisable when the father discovers a cache of gold and silks in the forest. He's determined to turn his makeshift daughter into a real princess, as he thinks that'll make her happy, so they leave for the city in hopes of never having to return to their old life. News spreads of the princess' beauty; when a wise man arrives to assess the girl he names her Kaguya-hime, which apparently means "princess of flexible bamboos scattering light".

This is all based on an old piece of Japanese folklore, The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. I'm unaware of how popular this is in Japan, or how many revisions and interpretations it has received over the years; all I know is that it feels like a typically subversive Ghibli interpretation. Kaguya may be from the moon but she's a very human heroine, who can stand proudly alongside characters such as Kiki and Chihiro as a young girl realistically struggling with her imminent ascent into adulthood. It really stood in stark contrast to Cinderella, whose principal character's desire to marry a beautiful prince is shown to be shallow and dated; much of the film is concerned with Kaguya having to deal with five aggressive royal suitors, whom she deals with in humiliating, empowering fashion.

In my mind this is what animated films should be. Tender, funny, almost heartbreakingly sad - its climax is an emotional tour de force - and with a timeless appeal for children and adults alike. It might not necessarily be the most innovative Ghibli work in terms of story and structure but it's still magical, and deserves nothing less than your full attention.

★★★★★

TV REVIEW: Community: Age of Yahoo!

Season 6, Episode 1: "Ladders" and Episode 2: "Lawnmower Maintenance and Postnatal Care"

So Community has been rescued from the jowls of cancellation for the third time. Great! But this time it's different, in that the show has left the dissatisfied feathers of its peacock parent (known to some as simply 'NBC') for the open arms of Yahoo!, a website I'm sure many of us thought was as relevant as AOL. But a good thing is a good thing, and from early reports it seems that Community has found a healthier, happier home in the online domain.

Joel McHale gave an interview recently where he explained that the key difference between NBC and Yahoo! is that the latter is actually excited to produce, promote, and generally participate in the making of the show. It shouldn't come as a surprise, in that while Community has always had an astonishingly loyal fan base it never even cracked the ratings list of TV's Top 100 - which, for cable executives, translates into a worthless pile of crap. Without the support of fans of both the show and Dan Harmon, its showrunner with a uniquely appealing public persona, it's hard to imagine Community being more than a one-season wonder to be found at the bargin bin of ASDA, among shows like Flashforward and Firefly (sorry). However, the fans have spoken, Community's back - but how has the transition actually affected the show?

Well, for a start it's longer, at 29 minutes per episode as opposed to 25. That's good. The cast has had another re-shuffle, with Yvette Nicole Brown departing to take care of her ill father. With only four of the original seven study group members remaining (along with Dean Pelton and Chang, obviously) can the dynamic of the show survive? Of course it can, it's Community. Two new cast members have been drafted in to fill the void: Paget Brewster, as a member of administrative staff, and Keith David, as an eccentric inventor who enrols at the college.

The former is the subject of the first episode, which is keenly involved in finding its feet in new territory. It's a new year at Greendale, and while the 'Save Greendale Committee' has been successful in refurbishing the college it still hasn't done enough - as is demonstrated when the roof collapses from too many Frisbees. Enter Francesca 'Frankie' Dart (Brewster), who threatens to upset the wacky shenanigans of the study group by being, you know, a sane, rational person who doesn't belong in a sitcom. The group resists, setting up an underground speakeasy from the 50s to drink and live out a fantasy, and through the power of montage succeed in turning the campus into a zone of insane merriment.

Of course, it doesn't take a genius to see that living an insane lifestyle is really dangerous, so when a Ladders seminar goes wrong the group realises that Frankie might have a place among them after all. For while Community is often a show about crazy people doing crazy things in funny situations, I've actually liked it best when it's been grounded in reality. As much as I enjoyed the previous season, I really wanted to see more storylines about, say, Jeff being a teacher, rather than the (admittedly excellent) homages to Zodiac and G.I. Joe. And with the announcement that a concept episode won't crop up until Episode 8, it's clear that this season looks to be more grounded, which I think is rather wonderful. Part of this may come from the fact that Community doesn't need to do novel things anymore to attract viewership. At NBC it was "Look, we're doing Apollo 13! Now we're doing Pulp Fiction! Please watch us!" But now the series can breathe and, most importantly, be itself.

This doesn't mean it won't be very funny, though. While Episode 1 is a good set-up, Episode 2 is where things really comes to life. The two storylines, where Dean Pelton buys a virtual reality machine and where Britta discovers that her parents have been trying to contact her again through her friends, both generate big laughs, particularly in the former's send up of 90s era computer graphics (you'll see what I mean - there's a great reference to Disclosure). Yet their conclusion is rather sweet as well, and drives home the message that while change can be scary it can also be superficial, and that everything we value can, essentially, stay the same - a message which really does apply to the show. Harmon has stated that Community can go on for at least three more seasons, and I think that's true; it's certainly outgrown its promise of #sixseasonsandamovie. And while I think some fans might be dissatisfied by everything 'new' about the show, for me, it's still the same old Community.

REVIEW: Cinderella

I have to admit, I didn't have high expectations going into Cinderella. It's one of the more boring fairy tales for one, lacking much of the nastiness present in Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel, and this latest Disney adaptation looked like it was going to be played worryingly straight. In an age where fairy tales have been told over and over again it's par for the course for new iterations to have a modern twist - you know, where Cinderella works at a coffee shop in New York and Prince Charming is a hobo or a well-groomed dog or something. Indeed, the myth has already been subverted by Disney at least twice in the past ten years, first with Enchanted and then, in much nastier fashion, with Into The Woods, which saw Cinderella get bored with her prince and join an anti-Giant hit squad instead. And now, having seen the film, I can say that my thoughts remain largely the same. It's a toothless, regressive film, one which will likely delight its guaranteed audience of young girls but will disappoint anyone expecting more.

I'll talk about the plot but I'm sure you know the score. Ella (Lilly James) lives happy life with parents (Ben Chaplin and Hayley Atwell), parents die, evil stepmother (Cate Blanchett) takes over, with irritating stepdaughters in tow (Sophie McShera and Holliday Grainger), and denies Ella (dubbed Cinder-Ella after she sleeps by a fireplace) a chance to hook up with royal hottie Richard Madden. Cinders decides fuck it, she'll try anyway, stumbles across her Fairy Godmother (Helena Bonham Carter) who gives her a sweet outfit and ride. She rocks up to the ball - late, I might add - and dazzles everyone with her ridiculously thin waist, then dashes home before the spell wears off, blah blah blah, prince finds her, happy ever after.

Technically it's almost flawless, in that everything the story needs happens with clockwork precision. The big set-pieces are well-handled, it all looks nice - particularly the costumes - and the CGI, while necessary, is never too intrusive. And the characters are pretty well-cast, even if some of the actors do run on autopilot (Helena Bonham Carter, I'm looking at you).

But it's also so boring, so sentimental, and does nothing to address some of the more problematic elements of the story. Consider how this princess holds up when compared to some of Disney's more recent female heroines - think Rapunzel, think Merida, think Anna and Elsa for God's sake. These women didn't need a prince to save them from their misfortunes, they did it themselves, and something bothers me about the way Cinderella just accepts her stepmother's abuse. I don't know, maybe it was a little unrealistic of me to hope that Disney would film the version where Cinderella feeds the stepsisters to the stepmother, Titus Andronicus-style, but I can't help but think that by refusing to add anything modern or dark, or even anything particularly funny, it's playing a far too safe game.

And this is Kenneth Branagh! It doesn't seem to fit the profile that he'd make something so lifeless. I suppose he's a man of tradition (his Shakespeare adaptations, for better or worse, are a world away from Michael Almereyda's), and of late he's become quite a dull studio director - though at least Thor had some humour in the middle. I think ultimately Cinderella does the job of being a mildly diverting film for children, and maybe that's all Branagh set out to accomplish. But for me, that's just not good enough.

★★

REVIEW: It Follows

Ever since Michael Myers committed his first killing spree in 1978, audiences have come to expect certain things of the horror genre. You know the drill - the walking psychopath, the screaming, irrational teenagers, the virginal heroine, etc. All of these have been worn into the ground by cheap horror flicks of the 80s and 90s, yet somehow second-time director David Robert Mitchell has breathed new life into these tropes to create an inventive, scary experience.

The film centres around Jay (Maika Monroe), a sultry American teenager who thinks she might have found true love in Hugh (Jake Weary). After a slightly strange visit to the cinema - where Hugh claims he can see a girl in a yellow dress - they spend a night at the beach, and consummate their relationship in the back of his car. All seems well until Hugh breaks out the chloroform and Jay finds herself tied to a wheelchair, whereupon she's informed that she's inherited a curse. Never a good first date. A naked woman walks up the train tracks toward her - at a creepily slow, measured pace - and we're informed that she's The Follower, a supernatural entity that will relentlessly, fatally pursue Jay from now on, like a ghostly Terminator. She doesn't believe it at first but, after a few close-calls at her school and home, she bands together with her (remarkably supportive) friends to stop the creature once and for all.

What distinguishes It Follows from the rest of its type is that scares aren't the only thing on its mind. Mitchell's previous film, The Myth of the American Sleepover, was very much concerned with the relationships between its young subjects, and there's something similar going on here. Jay and her friends Paul, Yara and Kelly all feel remarkably well-defined, and much of the film is invested in portraying them as naive and listless - there's a recurring motif of floating in pools, which comes into important play during the climax. Throughout the horror these characters seem to be struggling to navigate the labyrinth of adolescence, particularly when it comes to sex - the clever twist to the curse is that it can only be passed on through having further sex, a world away from Halloween's apparent condemnation of "immoral" youth. There's a great line towards the end, where one characters asks another, post-coitus, whether they "feel any different." The answer is no. Sex isn't demonised or punished, it's just another one of those things - albeit with the potential to be accompanied with the world's worst STD.

Although having said that, it's still a world away from Dazed & Confused. Mitchell creates a palpable sense of dread throughout, never really going for jump-scares but generating that horrible feeling that there's something in the corner of your eye, lurking off the edge of the frame just waiting to emerge. A sequence at a beach is a terrifying high point, as is a scene which ends in the world's most disturbing instance of dry-humping. I thought I stayed quite composed throughout the screening, but as I left I became increasingly irate and paranoid, especially when a blonde woman decided to follow me home from the tube (she apparently lives two doors away).

It all adds up to a smart film, although I still don't think it's quite as smart as it thinks it is. When I heard it was a smash hit at Cannes I had (perhaps too) high hopes for it to be a slice of arthouse brilliance, in the same vein as The Babadook. Yet the film still indulges in plenty of genre familiarities, not all welcome - the gory conclusion of the opening sequence was out of place, and drew far too many laughs from the audience. And as much as I liked the synth-heavy soundtrack and beautiful camera work, I still found myself only able to admire it rather than love it (as I'd hoped). Still, this is one of the best bits of American horror in years, and you'd be crazy to miss it. Just don't expect to be able to walk home alone without checking over your shoulder every other step.

★★★★

NEWS: Before I Wake - Trailer

Last year I favourably reviewed Mike Flanagan's Oculus, a creepily effective horror film about a haunted mirror, and in my write-up I mentioned that I wanted to see what he'd do next. The answer is finally here, and - surprise! - it's another horror film. Stick to your strengths, I guess. This one's called Before I Wake, and the basic premise outlined by its new trailer (which gave a bit too much away) centres around dreams and nightmares coming to life. More specifically, the dreams and nightmares belong to a (suitably creepy) child adopted by beleaguered parents Kate Bosworth and Thomas Jane, who seem to be looking to replace their dead son with a newer, fresher model.

Again, it looks like traumatic family units are on the menu, as well as a healthy dash of conspiracy thriller and, of course, horrifying supernatural beasties with hollowed out eyeballs. Whether it can match the claustrophobic dread and inventiveness of his previous film is unknown, although there certainly seems to be promise depth-wise. Let's just hope CGI and jump-scares are kept to a minimum.

FEATURE: My Favourite Genre, The Neo-Noir

Why did I become a film critic? Because I love films. Not all films, mind - I didn't become a film critic so I could review Death to Smoochy. But I love a good film, a film that evokes strong emotions in me, that takes me to a glamorous place of escapist fantasy or comments on life in a way I find meaningful and compelling.

More importantly, I like a film that caters to my personal tastes. Of course, over the years I've found those personal tastes harder and harder to define. What kinds of films do I like? I liked Boyhood, for sure, but does that mean I have an unconditional love for all independent American cinema? Hell no. Men, Women & Children saw to that. I loved The Babadook, but was that because it was a good bit of horror cinema, or was it because it was the only good bit of horror cinema amid a sea of Annabelle-scented turge? I'd say the latter.

I love films, but not all films - and most of the films I love, I love because they do something new, they surprise me with unheard of delights and dramas, prompt genuine laughter or fear. And finally, most importantly, I don't love a film just because it's covering a subject matter or genre I like, I love a film because it's a good film by my own standards. I liked 2001: A Space Odyssey, I disliked Interstellar. Do they cover a similar subject? Yes. Are they both similar and a world apart? Of course. Writing, acting, directing, sound design, and that implacable element some people call "magic", are just some of the factors I use to determine the good from the bad, the star-spangled from the stinkers. For the most part, genre doesn't really enter into the equation.

However. I pride myself on being a man of contradictions, and one these is the fact that there is a genre which I'm more likely to look upon favourably, to ignore that voice in the back of my head shouting "bad acting! shoddy character development! would you LOOK at that mise-en-scéne?" and just enjoy the experience.

L.A. Confidential - Great film, but suffers from a distinct lack of rain and serial killers.

It's the neo-noir, in case you hadn't guessed from the title, although it's a very specific kind of neo-noir I have in mind. For the unaware, the neo-noir genre takes elements from the film noirs of the 1940s and 50s - crime, violence, the main character being a bit of a dick - and pops them in a modern environment. L.A. Confidential would be a prime candidate, even though it's a period piece, since it twists our perception of genre into something new and original (with brains, sex appeal, and Kevin Spacey).

But as much as I liked that film, it's not exactly what I'm thinking of when I try and pinpoint my favourite genre. It needs to be gloomier, less glamour and fizz but still with a level of smart, professional polish. It's almost always the kind of film with a serial killer in it, but it's not the serial killer film, that's something else. Mine has to have policemen and detectives working hard to "crack the case", but with an extra element of something...different.

Community - The perfect parody?

Hmm. So you know that Community episode with the Ass-Crack Bandit? Basically that. Blue filter? Check. A perpetual environment of rain? Check. Press conferences, red herrings, chases down dark alleyways and through crummy apartment buildings? Check check check. I prefer it when it's set in a small town (à la Twin Peaks) but that's not always necessary - cities can be even more oppressive, particularly when it's Seattle. Oh, and the protagonist has to become too involved in the case, and his superiors have to sit him down and have "the talk" where they recommend they should drop the case and take a fishing holiday or something.

So maybe it shouldn't be called the neo-noir but rather "rain-soaked police-procedural psychological neo-noir thriller". Or RSPPPNNT, if you're feeling lazy. Which I am.

The Community episode was a play on David Fincher's Zodiac, and I think that's one of the prime examples of a good RSPPPNNT. Layers of mystery, atmosphere, well-developed characters, they're all there, despite the omittance of a few key conditions, namely San Francisco being too damn pretty. Actually, if you combined it with Se7en's silly weather forecast and slick visual style you'd probably have genre perfection.

Insomnia - Al Pacino's haggard face is a thing of beauty. The unhappier the protagonist, the better.

I suppose some more examples would include Insomnia, The Pledge, and even Red Dragon in its more sensible moments. Insomnia is a personal favourite of mine, despite not featuring a single drop of rain or press conference. You've got a main character - played by Al Pacino no less - with unresolved issues, drafted in to "solve the case" in a small Alaskan town, who, after a healthy incident of buddy-murder, gets way too involved with local serial killer Robin Williams. The town is in perpetual daylight but this actually adds to the atmosphere, especially since there's more fog than a Wham! music video.

Come to think about it, my fondness for RSPPPNNT might stem from excessive TV-watching. The genre goes back a while, but I suspect my first proper exposure was the original (and superior) Danish version of The Killing. That ticked every box, with a palpable atmosphere of gloom and mystery (helped along by the fact that it's always fucking raining in Denmark). I'd also watched Red Riding, a Channel 4 series about the Yorkshire Ripper, which would have been perfect if it had made an ounce of sense. You could also include True Detective in my categorisation as well, although I think it's far too self-reflexive to take away genre pleasures.

Heavy Rain - the news vans, the sirens, the floodlights. ALL CRUCIAL.

Finally, there was David Cage's bizarre video game Heavy Rain, which paid homage to the genre through the filter of its quick time event gameplay. While not entirely successful, it at least tried to scratch the RSPPPNNT itch, although it was hampered by a) being fifteen hours long, b) having some truly awful dialogue, and c) lacking a scene where the main character makes a map of the killer's activity using pins and string, then stands back with his hands on his hips and goes "huh".

Yes, I haven't been outside in a while, but I'm one step closer to finding the perfect film, refining my personal tastes, and cracking this case once and for all.