The Moment I Became Infatuated!?

Ever since I can remember, animation has always been something that has infatuated me. Whether it was the many numerous times I would wake-up on a Saturday morning as a little mini-Alex to watch either Pokémon or Batman: The Animated Series with my older brothers or this time now, where I actively pursuit animated films or T.V. series (specifically anime-related) that can fill my own pleasurable void, animation – specifically drawn/cel animation – has always managed to beguile my own interests and, in return, has made me curious of the medium to watch more and even study its intricacies at an academic level. This goes specifically for Japanese animation; a genre in itself that although occupies an inherently alluring visualisation that seemingly balances fantasy with reality, it encourages stories and concepts that are mature yet engaging to perceive. Unlike the practise of Western animation, Japanese anime caters to all audiences by enveloping a variety of ideas that linger with you long after watching. While my introduction to anime came about at an early age, it wasn’t until the day in which my mum went ahead and bought both Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle on DVD that my interest in the aforesaid medium peaked my interest and made me want to know more about Japanese animation. As much as I enjoyed both films when first watching them both, there was something about Howl’s Moving Castle that bewildered me and as the years went on, where I watched Hayao Miyazaki’s film sporadically to this day, I personally and critically understood why this was the case…

Based on Diana Wynne Jones’ novel of the same name, Hayao Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle depicts its story around Sophie Hatter, a young milliner, who is disastrously cursed by The Witch of the Waste’s and turns into a 90 year-old woman. Unable to not only tell anyone of her plight but to continue working at her late father’s hat-shop as well, Sophie ventures into the hills and mountains in hopes to mitigate her now elderly self. However, once marooned in the cold depths of the wastes, she encounters a moving mechanical castle which belongs to the infamously young and handsome wizard, Howl. Within the castle, Sophie soon befriends some unlikely individuals in the forms of Markl, Howl’s young apprentice, Calcifer, a fire-demon who is the source of the castles magic and contractually bound to Howl, and the aforesaid wizard himself who bears severely internal problems of his own. Agreeing to stay as a cleaning-lady of the castle, Sophie soon learns of Howl’s frantic and dangerous world and gets caught-up in a predicament that threatens their lives…

While many Studio Ghibli devotees will significantly adhere towards many of Miyazaki’s and Takahata’s acclaimed works of My Neighbour Totoro, Grave of the Fireflies and Spirited Away in being their favourites, it can’t be understated really how Howl’s Moving Castle, to this day, remains to be a significant animated-feature for both Miyazaki and Ghibli. Not only can it be seen as a film that forced Miyazaki out of ‘retirement’ (replacing Mamoru Hosoda who was expected to direct the project but pulled out) and further shaped the aforesaid studio’s acclaimed recognition in the West, following on from Spirited Away’s in being the only hand-drawn non-English animated feature to win an Academy Award, but it’s a Ghibli that amalgamates formulaic and distinctive themes. While it’s apparent to fathom the inclinations of ‘flight’ and ‘war’ within this 2004 feature, ideas which Miyazaki himself has dabbled with in preceding features, what’s intersting to perceive when watching Howl’s Moving Castle is how it burrows deeply into relatable themes of change and vanity by weaving them into an intimate and touching romantic story between two characters that mirror one another. Although the romance genre isn’t necessarily a specific strain that I would naturally gleam towards, considering contemporary films of this kind tend to follow a inevitable and specific structure that’s been told in many preceding occasions, the intertwining relationship between Sophie and Howl is oddly more compelling than what’s depicted in live-action since the two characters individually go through apprehensive changes that older audiences can associate themselves with. Throughout the course of the narrative, the hinged heroes face the inevitability of who they are and subsequently metamorphose; change through either magic or inherent behaviour. As with Chihiro in Spirited Away, both Sophie and Howl face identity-crises in themselves and in one another; both physically and mentally. Sophie, who reluctantly leads a life as a milliner unsure of what she really wants, incontrovertibly transforms into a 90 year-old woman by the Witch of the Waste’s, impacting on her physical appearance and metaphorically reflecting her own personality and what she feels about herself. Yet, paradoxically, being that she feels there’s no chance of reverting back to her old self, she inadvertently becomes more free and confident in herself; tackling tasks and scenarios with aplomb because she has nothing to lose. This seemingly contrasts with Howl’s change. A narcissistic man so beholden to his own image and vanity that the thought of losing his handsome looks is enough to send him in a life-threatening yet exaggerated bout of depression – “What’s the point of living if I can’t be beautiful?” These sulky episodes are compounded by Howl’s basic loss of humanity; the result of a pact that has rendered him once powerful, but also vulnerable by hiding behind disguises in an attempt to disregard any responsibility or confrontation. It’s only when he attempts to do any form of good in coveting the on-going war, by either plaguing battle ships or discharging a bomber in front of Sophie, that the cost of his humanity is stringent by transfiguring into a giant black bird. It’s these respective changes between Sophie and Howl that makes their relationship feel so genuine and not wholly one-dimensional compared to relationships depicted in lesser features. It is this specific complex nature between these two characters why I personally favour Howl’s Moving Castle more than most of Ghibli’s filmography.  

Filled with intricately Victorian-esque detailing and lavishly sumptuous artistry and expression that both delights and frightens, Howl’s Moving Castle viscerally presents of colour and design that’s that come to be synonymous with nearly every Studio Ghibli feature. While it’s fantastically visual grandeur leaps off the screen more than most films of similar ilk, what’s paramount to perceive in relation to mastery animation that’s executed in Miyazaki’s film, more than any of his past-works, is the effective-subtly of particular movement; whether it’s coming from a specific character or vehicle of some kind. It’s these purposefully implemented nuances, from a character walking in a distinctive way or how the character of Markl rabidly cuts and eats his food (eluding to the mannerisms of how Japanese people eat), that gives Howl’s Moving Castle this sense of realism and odd familiarity despite its overly fantastical backdrop. Even if it’s the mute and mysterious scarecrow of Turnip Head helping the residence of the castle by hanging clothes to dry, the characters that are displayed come with familiar idiosyncrasies; body movements or facial expressions that convey this sense of odd intimacy that in turn engages towards the world of the film. Beyond the overly-effective subtly of precise animation implemented, it’s hard not to watch Howl’s Moving Castle without noticing the design. The Victorian-styled steam-driven cities, with their trains and timely mechanical vehicles, are viscerally supplemented by the astounding motifs of flying machines and the vast array of people that comprise not only the cities, but in the wilderness as well. Akin to mining town that’s depicted in Laputa: Castle in the Sky and the port city of Koriko seen in Kiki’s Delivery Service, Miyzaki’s 2004 fantastical feature brims with enriched life that not a lot of Ghibli films can take credit for. While there is use of CGI amidst the predominantly cel animation aesthetic, the use of it is subtle and seamless and never distracts you from the drawn efforts that are displayed. As with every Studio Ghibli film that he’s been a part of, the music supplied by Joe Hisaishi is simply wonderful to listen and, at times, mesmeric when the certain events of the story unfold. From the moment in which Howl faces-off against Madame Suliman to the concluding moments when Sophie traverses into the past to discover the moment in which Howl catches a star, non of those moments would have had the same amount of impact or weight if it wasn’t for the score performed by the New Japan Philharmonic.

Despite the amount of times I’ve come to watch Howl’s Moving Castle and take-in, for myself, the films potent and grandiose animation style and the themes that are threaded throughout the entirety of the context itself, if there’s one thing that never gets tiresome to watch, it’s the characters themselves and how all of them significantly contribute towards not only the story, but in building an engrossing world as well. Aside the obvious two of Sophie and Howl, the rest of the quirky family – Calcifer, Markl, Turnip Head and Hin – never truly feel like unnecessary add-ons. They all have their purpose in progressing the story and shaping the world that Miyazaki presents us. Peculiarly similar how the character of Ray from In Bruges mopes around Martin McDonagh’s film as a stroppy kid or a conflicted adult, Howl is part charming, part child, with an odd twist of daring. The complex nature of his character, as we’ve highlighted, is very much integral to the story and it’s this convolution that I’ve personally related with. Although there is some clarity of his actions, using disguises to run away from people and responsibilities to be free, you can’t help but wonder what he’s really doing. What’s his ultimate goal in doing the things that he’s doing? Some answers are never resolved, and you’re left with questions that are never explained. However, it’s this ambiguity that many Ghibli-lovers will appreciate. Sophie, on the other end of the spectrum, is the perfect contrast to Howl’s perplexing demeanour. While they both share similarities in the sense that they both don’t know what they want from the respective lives, which is metaphorically questioned by the physical changes and their subsequent acceptance of who they are as a result of this metamorphosis, Sophie is ultimately endearing in her search for happiness. With well-written dialogue and intriguing character growth, it’s easy to be bewitched by her authenticity since she not only has sarcastically witty sense of humour as an old woman, but she upholds a sense of self-doubt that many audiences can relate with.

Over the many years that I’ve come to profoundly acknowledge Japanese animation for what it is and how, in return, it has greatly impacted me into learning more about its methodologies and curious inspirations, there have only been a select few anime shows and films that have truly captivated my own view point, and Hayao Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle is one of them. As early as I can remember watching shows like Pokémon, Dragon ball Z or even Cardcaptors on weekends or just before going to school and being enthused by each of these shows’ stories and animations style, it wasn’t until watching Howl’s Moving Castle where I fully appreciated Japanese animation and what it was capable of bringing forth onto the screen. It’s a film that has allowed to delve deeply into a medium I now love by writing not only a thesis piece on for my University degree, but also essay pieces that are view-able in a recently published book. Again, while it’s not a film that Ghibli die-hards will naturally gleam towards as there favourite said studio animated feature, there’s a lot of charm within Howl’s Moving Castle that can’t underestimated. Everything from the exquisite artistry right up-to the characters that all feel real despite the fantastical nature of the plot, Hayao Miyazaki’s 2004 animated feature is one of Studio Ghibli’s unsung heroes and can be seen as an important film for Miyazaki’s and Ghibli’s iconography…

On that note, it’s time for me to end this week’s Film Review. As always everyone, thank you for reading my special film review of Hayao Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle in celebrating the fact that I’ve now done over 100 film reviews in total! If anyone has an opinion on either the film or the review itself, you’re more than welcome to comment your thoughts down below. For next week, I’ll be sticking with the anime film by reviewing Studio Ponoc’s first feature film, Mary and the Witch’s Flower. Once again, thank you for reading this film review and I hope you’ve all enjoyed the read! Adieu!

★★★★★ – Alex Rabbitte