SPOILER-FREE REVIEW
A beautifully animated ode to classic films and a love letter to the early days of aviation, Porco Rosso is yet another soaring aerial adventure from Hayao Miyazaki.
Porco Rosso. In English, it translates directly to “Crimson Pig”, a description which admittedly undersells the spectacle contained within Studio Ghibli’s sixth feature film. There’s very little draw to that, and I reckon that not many English speakers would be attracted to a film with a name that inelegant. But the Italian Porco Rosso sounds exotic or even romantic, and that perfectly encapsulates the feeling and tone that director Hayao Miyazaki sought to capture in this film. Attractive to children and adults, though for vastly different reasons, it’s a lovely ode to classic films that seeks to capture that sense of adventure and passion, while retaining an intelligent and meaningful core message.
Miyazaki’s fondness and love for aviation is made evident in many of his films, from the very first shots of Nausicaa soaring through the skies on her glider (1984) to his fictionalised depiction of the life of a prominent Japanese fighter plane designer in The Wind Rises (2013). It’s particularly evident in this movie, which focuses on the life of a former World War I air ace transformed into a pig by supernatural means. However, its main character’s curse isn’t the main focus of the movie; rather it turns to the tale of Porco’s conflict with air pirates in the skies over the Adriatic Sea. After Porco tussles with them and saves a cruise ship from their clutches, the pirates decide to hire a cocky American flying ace by the name of Donald Curtis in order to settle their score.
Set during the Great Depression of the 30s, this is one of Miyazaki’s most historical pieces. When prompted by an old friend and comrade to rejoin the Italian Air Force, Porco dismisses him out of hand, stating that he’d “rather be a pig than a fascist” in reference to the war looming on the horizon and stating his preference for the life of a swashbuckling bounty hunter with no allegiances. It’s a film that delights in the romantic image of the gentleman pilot, with a fondness for the sportsmanship, fair play and honour that frequently accompany the stories of early pilots and flying aces. Similarly, the Europe it depicts is oddly paradoxical: politically unstable and in the grip of grinding poverty, but with a rustic charm and plenty of heart and soul. But fascism remains a distant spectre, and it isn’t necessarily a political film in the traditional sense, but more a backdrop against which the free-spirited lifestyle of its main character is slowly fading out of existence.
That highlights the excellent conflict and compelling characterisation within Porco Rosso. Despite his own bravado and charm, Porco lives in isolation in a hidden cove, with survivor’s guilt from events in his past that the movie explains in a beautifully animated flashback. In creating a movie full of romance and adventure, Miyazaki has not forgotten the underlying sense of melancholy and mystery that helped define those classic films he was inspired by. Porco’s confidence, borne of many years of experience in the air, is at a stark contrast to the fame-hungry and cocky Curtis, who serves as our hero’s nemesis and mostly respectable rival. The film draws its humour from the conflict between the two, and with the air pirates, who are charming comic bad guys rather than serious villains. It’s a curious mix of humour and seriousness: the result of a shift in tone during production related to the turmoil in the region during the early 90s when this film was being made, but there’s always a good balance between good fun and moments of emotional depth.
In this cast of wonderful characters, its two female leads hold their own. Fio, the seventeen-year-old granddaughter of Porco’s old friend Piccolo, is richly characterised as a clever and plucky engineer, who works tirelessly to redesign Porco’s plane despite his misgivings over her youth and her gender. A scene in which her grandfather apologises to the Almighty for letting women build a plane (all the men have left town in search of work) while saying grace at the dinner table only reinforces the historicity. But upon hearing this, Fio looks up from her wine and winks at Porco, flustering him considerably. That little moment, which is typical of many Ghibli films, washes away any lingering doubts about her skill and competence, and wins her a place in Ghibli’s roster of well-written female leads. The same is true for Gina, Porco’s childhood friend, who manages an idyllic island resort where our good guys and bad guys retire at the day’s end: where neutrality is enforced through her own grace and charm. She becomes the object of affection for both men, and indeed for all the pilots who frequent the resort. In the end, perhaps it’s all subtle wish fulfilment about winning the girl, making your dreams reality and triumphing over your rivals. Its characters subtly regret the missed opportunities in their pasts, but as Miyazaki frequently likes to remind us with his films: there’s really nothing wrong with dreaming a little.
I’d like to write more about the quality of the animation, but it’s a Ghibli film and truth be told, I’d struggle to find anything more to say without sounding like a stuck record. Of course, it’s marvellous from the very first frame to the very last, with gorgeous visuals, energetic aerial sequences with considerable flair that wouldn’t be out of place in Popeye and a stirring orchestral soundtrack that lends both beauty and grace to the whole affair. Its depiction of Europe as a foreign yet utterly charming locale wouldn’t be out of place in a tourist guidebook.
It’s a fine yarn with its vintage biplanes, and the begoggled heroes and baddies flying them. Regardless, it’s every inch the captivating romantic adventure that its title implicitly promises, and one that’s sure to make you believe that some pigs can fly.
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