The Snow Queen.

Boastful young Kai is taken by the Snow Queen.

The Snow Queen

Release Date: Nov. 1, 1957. Running Time: 60 minutes. Screenplay: Georgiy Grebner, Nikolai Erdman, Lev Atamanov. Based on the story by: Hans Christian Andersen. Producer: Lev Atamanov. Director: Lev Atamanov.

Version Reviewed: Russian, with English subtitles.


THE PLOT:

Kai and his best friend, Gerda, plant two roses and express their hope that the roses will grow together and be inseparable, "just like us." When winter comes, they listen in rapt attention as Gerda's grandmother tells the story of The Snow Queen, who commands the snow and ice. When Gerda becomes frightened, Kai swears that he will protect her, boasting that he'll put the Snow Queen on the fire if she comes near.

His careless boast is heard, and the Queen sends splinters of ice into him: into his eye, so that he sees only evil; and into his heart, so that he feels no warmth. Kai's personality changes in an instant, with him stomping on the flowers he planted with Gerda and mocking her for crying. Gerda holds out hope that he will recover - only to watch in horror as the Snow Queen comes for him, taking him away on her icy chariot.

Gerda embarks on a journey to find her "sworn brother," meeting various obstacles and helpers along the way. Meanwhile, the Queen tries to remold Kai in her own image:

"The aroma of flowers, beauty and joy, poetry and love - Those things do not exist... You must forget!"

The cursed Kai becomes a cruel bully.

CHARACTERS:

Gerda: She is heartbroken when Kai becomes mean and cold, but she refuses to give up on their friendship. After the Snow Queen takes him, she sets off after him, refusing to be dissuaded even by the sea itself. Her innocent devotion wins over most of the people she meets, gaining her needed allies on her long journey.

Kai: In early scenes, he's the visual counterpart of Gerda, colorful and joyful to match her. After the Snow Queen claims him, his skin becomes unnaturally pale, emphasizing his transformation. Most effective, though, is the too-brief interval between him being infected with the ice splinters and being taken, when he transforms into a bully, seeming to be offended by the sight of others' joy - a narrative beat that I think should have been held for a scene or two longer.

The Snow Queen: We see her first in long shot, a pale figure on a lonely throne in an enormous palace of ice. She is incensed by Kai's boast about putting her on the fire, but her revenge is complete enough after she infects him with the ice splinters. When she takes him for her own, there's a sense that she's trying to alleviate her own solitude. She can't help but kiss him when he climbs into her chariot, only for him to complain about the cold, at which point she promises not to kiss him again.

Ole Lukoie: Or "Ol' Dreamy" in the English dubbed version. He is the storyteller, a diminutive and enthusiastic figure who responds with excessive emotion to each turn of his tale. He carries two umbrellas, a colorful one that he uses to send dreams to good children, and one that is all black that he uses to cover naughty children so that they don't dream at all.

Ole Lukoie becomes emotional while narrating the story.

EARLY INFLUENCE - MIYAZAKI:

In 1964, a young Hayao Miyazaki had become disillusioned with his job as an inbetween animator at Toei. He had reached the point of considering a career change. It was a viewing of this movie that reignited his passion for animation. He has stated that without The Snow Queen, he doubted he would have continued as an animator, going so far as to label the film: "My destiny and my favorite film."

I can't find any record of Isao Takahata crediting The Snow Queen as an influence, but I definitely notice visual similarities between this film's Snow Queen and Grunwald, the villain of Takahata's first feature, The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun - likely too much visual similarity to be coincidence.


VERSIONS:

The Snow Queen was the first Soviet film purchased by any major U. S. movie studio, with an English dub released in the US and Canada in 1959. This makes this not only an influential animated work, but also an interesting footnote to late 1950s Cold War history.

Both the English and Russian language versions are readily available - though as far as I can determine, no home video release includes both versions. I chose to base this review on the Russian version, as the American release adds a prologue and, more importantly, completely changes the original film's music score.

Gerda, kidnapped by bandits, is menaced by a robber girl.

THOUGHTS:

Unlike The King and the Mockingbird, which was quite loosely adapted from The Shepherdess and Chimney Sweep, Lev Atamanov's The Snow Queen is quite faithful to the original story. All religious elements from Hans Christian Anderson's tale have been removed, but the rest of it remains intact.

Arguably, some of it is faithful to a fault. Anderson's tale is episodic, with Gerda going from one scenario to the next, and that remains true here. You could easily remove a sequence in which she falls under the sway of a witch without it impacting the rest of the story - and I'd argue that the overall narrative would be stronger if that had been done. This particular episode is the least effective, consisting of approximately five minutes in which: Gerda meets the witch, falls asleep, then remembers Kai and escapes, all with no real conflict.

The other major episodes flow into each other much better. Gerda finds a palace, which she initially thinks is the Snow Queen's, and she sneaks in to search for Kai. It's the wrong place, but the sequence builds nicely as she and the pair of ravens helping her evade palace guards while closing on the sleeping quarters. This is followed by a brush with bandits, in which she's threatened by a knife-wielding robber girl... only to end up winning the girl over with her sincerity.

The ending feels a bit abrupt thanks to a change from Anderson's story. In the original, Kai is given a challenge to free himself. In the movie, the Queen is less a captor than a would-be adoptive mother, so there is no such challenge. I'm also left reflecting that the loose narrative is likely why most adaptations have been considerably less faithful to the original text than this is.

What's notable here isn't the narrative so much as the art. Several images remain indelible: The Snow Queen's angry eyes appearing in Gerda's mirror; a bird protecting its young from the deep freeze as the Queen flies by; Gerda struggling against an ice storm as she approaches the palace, her red coat a splash of color in a landscape of pure white; and the change in Kai's skin tone, from bright and lively to icy snow and, eventually, back again.

It's these moments and images that keep the movie engaging, even when the story seems thin. I'm not sure it's that well-told a story - but as a visual work, it is a feast for the eyes from start to finish, from the well-drawn backgrounds to the high quality of the animation.

The Snow Queen oversees her frigid, ice-covered domain.

OVERALL:

The Snow Queen is a mostly faithful adaptation... of a story that arguably best translates to film with a few creative liberties. As a work of art to watch and study, however, it is impressive. Character designs lend them a spark that isn't necessarily on the page, and the movie is constantly delivering some new amazing visual for the audience to absorb.

On a story basis, I would feel generous awarding this a "6." But movies aren't just their narratives. The artistry on display is such that I cannot award anything but a positive review, even if this is a movie I'm unlikely to personally revisit.


Overall Rating: 7/10.

Next: My last return to live action for a while, for a sample of a film movement that was an inspiration for Isao Takahata's projects.

Previous Review: The King and the Mockingbird

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The King and the Mockingbird.

The mockingbird introduces himself to the young lovers.

Also Released As: The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep, The King and Mr. Bird, The Curious Adventures of Mr. Wonderbird.

Release Date: Sept. 1952; March 19, 1980 (completed). Running Time: 63 minutes (1952)/84 minutes. Screenplay: Paul Grimault, Jacques Prèvert. Based on the story, The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep, by: Hans Christian Andersen. Producer: Andrè Sarrut, Robert Dorfmann. Director: Paul Grimault.

Version Reviewed: 2003 restored version, French with English subtitles (primary); 1952 version, English (reference).


THE PLOT:

The Kingdom of Tachycardia is ruled over by the tyrannical King Charles V + III = VIII + VIII = XVI. The king is vain and cruel, basking in the toadying of his subjects and then capriciously activating traps that consign them to fates that are unknown but certainly unpleasant. This includes the artist who has painted his most recent portrait. A press of a button consigns the unfortunate young man to the depths, while the portrait gains a place of honor in the king's private apartment.

That night, the king's various artworks come to life. A painted chimney sweep and shepherd girl hold hands across their respective picture frames. But the king's likeness was captured too well, and his portrait sneers as he insists that he will marry the shepherdess. The boy and girl escape their 2-dimensional existence and escape, prompting the painted king to do the same - deposing the real monarch so that he can turn all the resources of the kingdom toward one goal: the capture of the shepherdess and the chimney sweep!

The young couple finds an ally in the form of the mockingbird, a confident patriarch who is able to talk and think his way out of trouble and who bears a grudge against the king. With the bird's help, they manage to evade capture. But the chase brings them ever deeper into the king's citadel, a place laden with dangers...

The tyrannical King Charles is deposed by his own painting!

CHARACTERS:

Mockingbird: King Charles, a self-styled hunter (whose servants do all his actual hunting), was responsible for the death of his beloved wife. As a result, he despises the monarch, taunting and mocking him at every opportunity. He has by far the most dialogue of any character, as he's a fast talker able to calm the lovers' rattled nerves, heckle the king, and even rally allies. In the 1980 release, which is the basis of this review, Jean Martin provides the bird's voice. He's wonderful, deep-voiced and extravagant in a way that perfectly suits the character.

King Charles: As either human or painting, King Charles has zero redeeming qualities. The character art makes every piece of him slightly disproportionate in a way that emphasizes his depravity. He has giant ears, a long nose, a round and chinless face, a jutting stomach, and stubby legs. Meanwhile, thick lips turn his every smile into a malevolent sneer. His movements are comical, but his sadism is unmistakable: one second teasing his subjects with a hint of favor, and the next pressing a button or yanking a drawstring to send them plummeting to the depths.

Shepherdess/Chimney Sweep: The two young lovers, who are less active than acted upon. They earn the mockingbird's loyalty after the chimney sweep rescues one of his chicks from certain death, and the bird repays that favor repeatedly throughout the story. The two barely speak, mostly just clinging together and reacting to the various oddities and horrors within the citadel while attempting to escape the evil king's clutches.

A still from the tacked-on ending to the 1952 release.

THE 1952 RELEASE AND ITS INFLUENCE ON GHIBLI:

This movie has been cited as an inspiration by both Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki - but the version they saw was very different from director Paul Grimault's final release.

Grimault began production in 1948, but the animation fell behind schedule. When he was about 80% complete, the film was taken away from him by producer Andrè Sarrut, who released it in 1952 over Grimault's objections. This version was no disaster, winning the Special Jury Prize at the 1952 Venice Film Festival and earning a BAFTA nomination in 1958, and it's been cited as an influence by many animators of the time, including both Takahata and Miyazaki, as well as legendary Japanese animator Yasuo Ōtsuka.

Grimault regained the rights in 1967, and in 1980 he was able to complete his version. The story is mostly the same, but sequences are extended so that they can breathe, and the surreal visuals are on fuller display. Notable additions include: a sequence that introduces the factory where "voluntary workers" (prisoners) are sentenced to hard labor; a full introduction to the king's painting (the true villain of the piece); a new ending; and several scenes that have been re-animated so that the same actions happen in more visually interesting settings.

There are some visual mismatches between the original and new footage, notably involving a pride of captive lions. Still, as a movie to watch, I think the 1980 release is easily the superior one. The 1952 version is still a good film, though, and it's actually more significant because of its broad influence. Sadly, most prints of the original version were destroyed after Grimault gained control of the rights. The English dub was spared, as it had dropped into the public domain, and it can be viewed in its entirety on the Wikipedia page for The King and the Mockingbird... but it's in poor quality, with faded colors and visual instability.

It's still worth a look to see the actual film that inspired so many animators. It's actually a pretty good dub: Peter Ustinov provides the voice of the Mockingbird, and Max Adrian goes full ham as the evil king. I'm happy that Grimault was able to complete his masterpiece, and I think his version is the better... but the earlier version is still a worthy film, and an important one, and I'm strongly of the opinion that it should also be available in a high-quality release.

The king finally captures the heroes. The artwork throughout
makes remarkable use of vertical space.

ARTISTIC ACHIEVEMENT:

"We were formed by the films and filmmakers of the 1950s... It was through watching Le Roi et l’Oiseau by Paul Grimault that I understood how it was necessary to use space in a vertical manner."
-Hayao Miyazaki, Le Monde.

The King and the Mockingbird is an artistic achievement, a visual feast that works on multiple thematic levels as well as aesthetic ones.

Miyazaki made particular note about the use of vertical space - and the verticality is immediately apparent. The Kingdom of Tachycardia is essentially a single giant structure. Chambers hang off the sides of enormous pillars, not integrated into the architecture but rather existing like pustules around an infected sore. King Charles rides impossibly tall elevators to his private chambers at the very top. When he and his men are alerted that the chimney sweep and shepherdess have fled into the citadel, they give chase by hopping onto rafts, following a canal down a waterfall to descend the full height of their structure in seconds.

His apartment may be up high, but the king's true domain is below. The king disposes of inconvenient subjects by opening floor traps, sending them plummeting into the depths, and the only civilian population we see ekes out an existence underground. Meanwhile, his tormenter, the mockingbird, taunts him and makes his escape into the sky. The bird is only captured within the citadel, a seemingly endless labyrinth that offers no sky for escape, and which is home to peasants who associate birds with their salvation, but who don't actually know what birds look like.

The king's power is represented in large part through mechanization. The mockingbird flies and the young lovers run, clutching to each other for comfort. By contrast, the stubby-legged monarch barely even walks. He rides around on increasingly ridiculous-looking conveyances that Dr. Seuss might have created had he ever dabbled in steampunk.

After about the 20-minute mark, the king is replaced by his own portrait, making him a literal facsimile of a man... something that makes no actual difference to the story. The king was already soulless, and it seems appropriate that a man who is human in name only gets replaced by his own, two-dimensional reproduction.

This marriage of artistic technique and theme is likely one reason that Isao Takahata praised the movie for its "union between literature and animation." In a 2014 extract for the British Film Institute, Takahata would go further, discussing the serious, even political themes tucked beneath the film's visuals and humor and stating: "If I had not seen this film, I would have never imagined entering the world of animation."

The king's subterranean subjects are shocked by their
ruler's final conveyance: a destructive giant robot!

OTHER MUSINGS:

Lest I make this film sound like a depressingly "worthy" artifact to endure only in film or art classes, let me make one other thing very clear: The King and the Mockingbird is an extremely entertaining motion picture.

Grimault's visuals remain dazzling, and they are often quite funny. When a guard fails to bring the king the shepherdess and chimney sweep, the king makes a show of laughing. Then he rides his mobile throne out of the room, the door closing behind him - only to return a second later, fixing the guard with a glare and reaching slowly for the fatal button. At which point the guard dances around the room, evading the trap as if trying to steer clear of a targeting sight, in a scene that combines slapstick and dark humor to great effect.

The king and mockingbird are both dominant figures, one a small statured, sadistic tyrant, the other a colorful figure who talks fast and thinks faster. They lend energy to every scene in which they feature, and most scenes feature one or the other. The bird denounces the king in one of the movie's first scenes, labeling him a murderer. He then flies up to the monarch's apartment to torment him through the window.

Later, the mockingbird uses his wits to distract the guards while the shepherdess and chimney sweep escape the authorities' first attempt to capture them. He eventually rouses allies with a speech that appeals to their sympathies... but only after first using loaded sensory language to stir up their own interests.

The story is well-paced. The first third or so takes time to establish the characters, using a few long scenes to set up the kingdom and the characters. Once the pursuit begins, scenes become shorter and editing becomes faster. There's a small pause after a crisis point arrives, but then activity and editing become rapid and frenetic approaching the climax. The final sequence is expertly judged, as several individually absurd elements are brought together to bring the situation to its close.

The mockingbird mocks the monarch from atop his own statue.

OVERALL:

The King and the Mockingbird is a joy to watch on a visual level, with Paul Grimault's art remaining impressive today. It's also expertly paced, often funny but with a thematic core that keeps it feeling substantial. It remains a fine film to watch, not only to appreciate its artistry, but also simply to enjoy.


Overall Rating: 10/10.

Next: An animated fable from the Soviet Union, one that Miyazaki has credited with keeping him from abandoning animation entirely...

Previous Review: Bicycle Thieves
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Bicycle Thieves.

Antonio (Lamberto Maggiorani) and his wife, Maria
(Lianella Carell), just before everything goes wrong.

Bicycle Thieves

Original Title: Ladri di biciclette. Also Released As: The Bicycle Thief.

Release Date: Nov. 24, 1948. Running Time: 89 minutes. Screenplay: Oreste Biancoli, Suso D'Amico, Vittorio De Sica, Adolfo Franci, Gerardo Guerrieri, Gherardo Gherardi, Cesare Zavattini. Story by: Cesare Zavattini. Producer: Giuseppe Amato, Vittorio De Sica. Director: Vittorio De Sica.

Version Reviewed: Italian, with English subtitles.


THE PLOT:

Antonio Ricci (Lamberto Maggiorani) is one of multitudes of unemployed workers in post-war Rome, living in poverty with his wife, Maria (Lianella Carell), and their son, Bruno (Enzo Staiola). One day, he receives a job putting up posters. The job requires a bicycle, and he's recently pawned his - but after his wife sells their bedsheets, he is able to buy it back.

The job pays well and is the answer to Antonio's prayers. But while he's working at the top of a ladder, disaster strikes: a thief (Vittorio Antunucci) steals his bicycle. He files a police report, but the authorities offer little hope of retrieval.

This leaves Antonio and Bruno searching the streets of Rome on their own, hoping against hope that they will be able to find the stolen bike so that Antonio can keep the job that he so badly needs.

Antonio with his son, Bruno (Enzo Staiola).

CHARACTERS:

Antonio: The theft of his bicycle, which he knows will mean the loss of his job, makes him increasingly desperate. At one point, he descends to staggering around casting looks in random directions, as if his bike will appear by magic. He becomes snappish with his adoring son, even slapping him in a moment of frustration - something he feels immediately and overwhelmingly guilty about. The job gave him a chance to truly provide for his family, something he likely hasn't been able to do since the war. The thought of losing that is more than just the loss of money - It's the loss of his own self-respect.

Bruno: Antonio's young son. Bruno adores his father, and he is devastated when Antonio slaps him, something it takes several minutes of screen time for him to forgive. A sad irony of Antonio's situation is that Bruno has a job, which we see when Antonio drops him off before bicycling off to his own first day. Antonio is certainly aware that if he loses his job, his young son will be doing more for the family than he is. The relationship between father and son is the emotional center, and the film constantly cuts to Bruno watching his father's quixotic quest. He really only gets one moment to behave as a child: when Antonio takes him to a restaurant and orders him a mozzarella sandwich, which Bruno eats by tugging the cheese out like a string.

Maria: She doesn't hesitate when Antonio tells her about the job, which he fears he can't take since he pawned the bicycle. She immediately strips the sheets from their bed and marches to the pawnshop, determined to get the money needed to buy the bike back. There's a certain weariness in this, as if she's become a little too accustomed to solving her husband's problems, but her fondness shows when she lets herself share in his excitement at the new job.

Baiocco: A friend of Antonio's, Baiocco is both older and more street-smart. Though he doesn't appear to be a criminal himself, he seems to have some knowledge of how the city's thieves operate. He takes Antonio to the markets where stolen goods are stripped for parts and resold, which he sees as the most likely path to recovering the bicycle.

The Thief: Though he has only minimal screen time, the bicycle thief (Vittorio Antunucci) is a memorable presence. He wears a German cap, invoking the war, and his face is hard, even rodent-like in its shrewd watchfulness. He's a vile man, totally unrepentant, and he's supported by seemingly an entire neighborhood of criminals. At the same time, he's just as much in poverty as Antonio, and there's something pathetic about him. His very callousness speaks to this, as if the world just plain beat the decency out of him.

Bruno enjoys a mozzarella sandwich.

EARLY INFLUENCE - TAKAHATA:

Bicycle Thieves is probably the best-known film of the 1940s Italian neorealist movement. Italian neorealism centered on working class people, filmed on location and in a documentary style, usually with non-professional actors. The goal was to make the viewers feel as if they were watching a slice of life rather than a constructed story.

This approach would become strongly favored by Isao Takahata. Certainly, echoes of this movie, both in narrative and stylistic terms, can be seen in fare such as the television series, 3,000 Leagues in Search of Mother, and his first animated Ghibli film, Grave of the Fireflies.

Bicycle Thieves has been cited as a major influence for Takahata. This puts him in good company. Just within Ghibli circles, the film was named as an inspiration by Michael Dudok de Wit, who would direct the 2016 release, The Red Turtle. It has also been lauded by a long list of notable directors, including François Truffaut, Ken Loach, and Martin Scorsese. This is a film that had a genuine, lasting impact on world cinema as a whole.

Antonio's search becomes increasingly desperate.

THOUGHTS:

Some "great" movies don't get discovered until long after release. Bicycle Thieves is not one of them. This film was internationally recognized almost immediately, and it was one of a handful of foreign language films to win an Oscar before "Best Foreign Language Film" became an annual award.

Though it's almost 80 years old, it remains a fine film to watch. It was shot entirely in real locations, and that lends authenticity even very good studio backlots can't capture. Director Vittorio De Sica uses music sparingly, letting the actors, story, and dialogue carry the drama. When the music does come up, either to cover transitions or to emphasize mood, Alessandro Cicognini's score is a perfect companion: simple, even repetitive, but also emotional and haunting.

Antonio's situation is achingly relatable. While treating Bruno to a meal at a restaurant, he talks about what the job meant. He breaks down the numbers: salary, plus overtime, plus family allowance. Enough to escape poverty, to jump up to grasp the next rung on what's less a social ladder than a fire escape that dangles tantalizingly out of arm's reach. Meanwhile, a wealthy family dines at the next table, the adults ignoring them while their young son glances at the unkempt Bruno with open disdain.

Antonio and Bruno take a moment to pause
during their hopeless search.

There are enough moments of light to keep the viewing experience from becoming 90 minutes of despair. Antonio, upon receiving the job, is initially in a dark mood because he already pawned the bicycle. His wife lifts him out of it by selling the sheets to get it back. This opening episode seems narratively irrelevant, as the story itself would work if Antonio simply had his bicycle at the outset - but by showing him in a black mood, we get an early reminder that something may occur to pull him out again.

The scenes of him talking excitedly about the new job show the genuine warmth within this family. Even after the bicycle is stolen, there is a moment in which he is terrified that a "drowned boy" might be his own son; it isn't, but it reminds both him and us that his situation could be infinitely worse. Then there's the restaurant scene, in which Bruno happily plays with his mozzarella sandwich, something that's clearly a rare treat for him.

It's certainly downbeat - but these moments keep life in it, and that keeps it enjoyable to watch.


OVERALL:

Bicycle Thieves is considered a seminal film, and it deserves that status. It's beautifully shot. The Rome locations add texture that could not have been replicated in a studio, and the themes about poverty and the seeming impossibility of social mobility are all too relevant today. Its 90 minutes don't exactly fly by, and its atmosphere is quite depressing in its very authenticity. It has a hypnotic quality, however, and there is no chore in watching it.


Overall Rating: 10/10.

Next: A 1950s French animated feature that inspired Miyazaki, Takahata, and a full generation of animators - though if its director had his way, it would not have been released to even have that impact...

Next Review: The King and the Mockingbird

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Part 1: Before Ghibli - Inspirations and Early Works.

Early Inspirations:

Bicycle Thieves
Release Date: Nov. 24, 1948

The King and the Mockingbird

Release Date: Sept. 1952 (original release)

Release Date: Mar. 19, 1980 (director's completed version)

The Snow Queen

Release Date: Nov. 1, 1957


Background and Rating Scale

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My Ghibli Journey: Background and Ratings Scale

It was actually a few years ago that I decided to go through the films of Studio Ghibli... and, as that time scale indicates, it's been a bit of journey to get to the point of actually posting.

Prep work began with a bit of research into the history of anime. Any research into the history of anime in America quickly leads to the (non-Ghibli related) series, Robotech. I remembered that series from my childhood, and I could see that I was going to be prepping for the Ghibli series for a while, so I decided to review that series while working on this in the background.

I set a simple target: I would begin posting after I had finished my last Robotech review. That was August 2023 - just shy of three years. In that time, my concept for this Ghibli journey has greatly expanded.


EXPANDING SCOPE:

My original intent was to start with Hayao Miyazaki's Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, whose success led to the studio's founding, and go from there.

Research led me to expand my scope, however. If I was including Nausicaä, then I was already including one title that predated Studio Ghibli. It made no sense to exclude so many of the titles that came before it, but that were equally critical to the careers of Ghibli's most prominent filmmakers.

I was also conscious of not wanting to make this just into a film series about Hayao Miyazaki. I was already of the opinion that Isao Takahata's Ghibli work was just as important to the studio's reputation. If Miyazaki is the marquee name, then Takahata is the arthouse auteur - and without his titles, I think Ghibli's output would lack a sense of substance and texture. Beyond that, many of both filmmakers' early works were made together, with Takahata frequently directing and Miyazaki working in animation.

So I kept pushing back in time to fold in their earliest titles. My new starting point became Takahata's first directed feature, The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun, on which Miyazaki worked as key animator. Then I moved further back, to pick up a couple of classic animes for which Takahata served as Assistant Director. And then I moved still further back, deciding to incorporate some of both filmmaker's early film inspirations.

Perhaps it's a pitfall of a lengthy prep time that the scope of this project expanded to such a degree - but at the same time, I think something would be lost if I had simply started with Nausicaä.


THE PHASES OF THIS REVIEW SERIES

This review series will be divided into four phases, which I'm currently titling: Inspirations & Early Works; The Road to Ghibli; Ghibli's Rise; and Ghibli's Later Years.

1. Before Ghibli - Inspirations & Early Works: This first phase will look at a handful of the works that inspired either Takahata, or Miyazaki, or in at least one instance, both. This will include both live action and animated movies. From here, I'll continue with films and series they worked on while at Toei Animation. The final entry in this section will be 1971's Animal Treasure Island, which credits Hayao Miyazaki for its adaptation.

2. The Road to Ghibli: This section will cover the works by Takahata and Miyazaki after they left Toei. This will include the various series on which they collaborated, as well as their individual works once they went their separate ways. At this stage, I will stop including works where neither was the driving force (for example, I will not include the anime series, A Dog of Flanders, even though Takahta directed individual episodes). The final entry here will be the movie that led to Ghibli's founding, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind.

3. Ghibli's Rise: This section will look at Ghibli's rise to prominence and its heyday, covering the studio's output through the 1980s and 1990s as their releases gained international recognition. The final entry will be 2001's Spirited Away, which is generally recognized as Ghibli's most widely popular release.

4. Ghibli's Later Years: The final section will cover the studio's later releases, starting with Hiroyuki Morida's 2002 film, The Cat Returns and moving forward through their 21st century output.


RATING SCALE:

I've tried to emphasize in past review series that I apply ratings within review series. It would be ridiculous to judge an episode of Robotech, or an entry in the Hellraiser or Rambo film franchises, against something like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest or Casablanca, so those review series have enjoyed a more generous curve.

The films and series I'll be reviewing for this series are both diverse in nature and of generally high quality. As a result, the review curve is going to be a bit strict, more similar to my Best Picture reviews than to the average TV or film review series.

As a baseline, my scores for this review series will translate as follows:

9 - 10: Outstanding. Essential viewing. I regard the title as a masterpiece or at least very close to it.
7 - 8: Very Good. I can do some nit-picking, or maybe I see one fault that irritates me, but it's still a quality work.
5 - 6: Okay. Watchable, even entertaining, and likely has artistic merit, but with some notable flaws.
4: Below Average. Though not entirely without merit, this title falls well short of its ambitions.
2 - 3: Bad. This title misses the mark, though there may be some glimpses of potential in the final product.
1: Terrible. A waste of time and talent. I'll honestly be surprised if I award a "1" to any title in this review series.

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