SPOILER-FREE REVIEW
A heartwarming and joyous snapshot of childhood, My Neighbor Totoro’s simplicity and purity make it an instant and timeless classic.
To view My Neighbor Totoro as a child is to have a fantasy fulfilled, but to view it as an adult is to get a fleeting glimpse at utopia. In making this film, director Hayao Miyazaki sought to create a film for children without conflict, violence or malice, and it’s a true testament to the quality of this film that you leave it wishing the world could be that peaceful and straightforward. In growing up, we all lose something intangible about ourselves, but I’m grateful that I was allowed to see the world through a kid’s eyes one more time. A lot of reviews and features talk about how children love Totoro, but the truth is that just as many adults must have been drawn in by its most potent fantasy of all: a complex world of rules reduced to pure simplicity and kindness. I know I certainly was.
This is a film defined by elegance and simplicity. Its premise, which focuses on the lives of the two sisters Satsuki and Mei, who move into an old house in rural Japan alongside their father, is low-stakes and free of conflict. It serves as a stark contrast to many animated films, and indeed to many children’s films as well. There’s no central antagonist, no grand struggle between good and evil, and no big message to be taken away from watching this film. It just...is what it is.
It has a wonderfully whimsical tone. There are moments where it’s a little spooky and surreal, and there are moments where it’s purely joyous and fantastical. Miyazaki is present as the unseen hand behind the scenes; though his general philosophy of living in harmony with nature and the world is the key takeaway from many of his films, here it fades into beautiful watercolour backgrounds. The world is portrayed as being alive and worthy of our respect. None of our characters, even the adults, question the existence of unseen forest-dwelling spirits, content with the fact that some unexplainable magic remains in the world. The girls are well-drawn and lifelike, with a refreshing enthusiasm and joy for life that effortlessly crosses over from screen to viewer. In its own way, the rural rice fields and rolling hills have a timeless quality all of their own. Though the film ostensibly takes place in 1958, it could just as conceivably take place in the modern day. It’s no small wonder that this film has found lasting appeal seen from that perspective.
The folks at Ghibli have dedicated themselves towards giving that magic tangible presence in every single frame. The animation and visuals are spellbinding, with an attention to detail remarkable for the days when computer-assisted animation was still in its infancy. Its character designs are oddly cute and charming, and there are instantly timeless scenes including the famous bus stop shots; as the two sisters shelter from the rain underneath an umbrella, Totoro jostles the branches above them in joy, causing a sudden downpour of raindrops to come rattling down on them.
Totoro is less a film to be analysed and more an experience to be lived through. It’s tough to write a review for, truth be told, simply because it is exactly the conflict-free, low-stakes film Miyazaki intended it to be. There’s no pretense, no central conflict or characters to be dissected and analysed, and its world is simple and pure. But there’s incredible strength in that simplicity, and there’s no doubt that now more than ever we need a film to calm and to soothe, and to remind us that there’s still plenty of beauty in the world if you look in the right places.
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