Nivenus at the Desk XI: Ponyo on the Cliff and The Crystal Shard
Back again for more reviews. Not done with Star Trek and I’ll have some more of those to come, but first some regular reviews and a break from the Enterprise.
This time round I have something extra special. A treat if you will. I had, not very long ago, the unique opportunity to see Miyazaki’s new film, Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea - which will not be due for release in the United States until August 14. So you see, this time, I’m actually ahead of the game.
I’ll also be reviewing R.A. Salvatore’s The Crystal Shard, the first novel in the author’s Drizzt cycle.
EDIT: As I was preparing my animated triple review I decided my review of Ponyo's production values was unnecessarily harsh. So I've revised my rating there.
What the Score Means
10.0: Excellent. Terrific. Might not be perfect, but it's damn close. Best in the field.
9.0: Pretty damn good. I've seen better stuff, but not much. Most people should enjoy it.
8.0: Pretty good, if you really like this sort of stuff, but it might be more underwhelming if you're not. Even if you are one of the latter, though, I'd expect you to find it passingly amusing, if nothing else.
7.0: Good or average, but take note that your mileage may vary. In other words, if you're already a fan or predisposed to works like this you may really like it or think it's good. But if you're not, steer clear or at least approach with a cautiously open mind.
6.0: Meh. You might enjoy it, but I wouldn't guarantee it. If you do like it, it'll probably be a passing thing and I wouldn't count on it having any revisitable value. Semi-average, semi-poor. What I like to call "thoroughly mediocre."
5.0: This steps beyond thoroughly mediocre into the realm of true bad. I'd be surprised if anyone thought this was high quality and would be highly suspect of their opinions from the on on matters of criticism. It might not be horrible, but it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
4.0: Okay, we've definitely passed into bad here. This stuff actually will make you walk out of a movie theater it's so lame. It's not even stylistically bad. It's just boring bad and you likely won't have the patience to go through with it.
3.0: This is a weird little category few get to but a few deliberately reach for. So bad it's good. That is to say, if you take this at face value it's going to be horrific. But, if you just hang along for the ride and turn off your brain or, conversely, decide to get ridiculously symbolic about it, it can actually be very entertaining, if only for its comically bad quality.
2.0: Could be so bad it's good, but more likely this has verged into so bad it's horrible quality. There's nothing funny about it, except perhaps that the human mind could be so warped that it would actually produce the shit. Not fun.
0-1.0: Burn! Burrrrrrn! Burn the evil! It hurts!
Table of Contents
Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea
The Crystal Shard
Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea
Overview
I’ve been a fan of Miyazaki’s work for some time now. He’s not my favorite filmmaker, but he’s up there. It was his film Princess Mononoke that really introduced me to anime and to Japanese mythology, both of which have influenced my work substantially since (though, in retrospect, I have to give some of the credit to Neil Gaiman, who wrote the English dub). Because of that, there was no way I was going to pass up the opportunity that came to me a few weeks ago.
Over here at Pacific University I’m a member of the Japan Club. Normally, all that means is that, while practicing my poor grasp of the Japanese language, I make a few crafts or cook a few meals that are related in some way to a Japanese holiday. Occasionally, we watch a movie. A few weeks ago, right before the break, we got an unusual opportunity when one of the Club’s prominent members, a teacher’s assistant who’s originally from Japan, gave us the opportunity to do a small, private screening of Ponyo months before it would officially be released in the U.S.
In spite of the fact that I’d been disappointed by Miyazaki’s last film, Howl’s Moving Castle, and therefore had some apprehensions about Ponyo I wasn’t going to miss the chance to be literally one of the first Americans to see the film. So, I joined in on the excitement and put aside my skepticism and worries and instead embraced my general enthusiasm for Miyazaki’s work as a whole.
I wasn’t disappointed.
Sure, Ponyo was more childish than many of Miyazaki’s previous films, including stuff like Totoro, but this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. After all, WALL-E was, if anything, childish, but it was also a wonderfully and surprisingly charming film, even for a darker and edgier heart like mine. Any jadings were melted by Ponyo, whose wit and charm and overall cuteness just overwhelmed my wirings. More on that to come.
I don’t know if this is Miyazaki’s swan song (he previously claimed Mononoke and Spirited Away were) but if it is, it’s a good way to bring his illustrious career to an end.
Before I proceed any further into the gory details let me make one thing clear. This was the Japanese version of the film I watched, not the American dub that will be screened later this summer. As such, I will be rereviewing the film at a later date to make note of any changes in quality in the American dub. I also want to make it clear that I do not necessarily consider the Japanese version superior in any form or shape. In general, I have been very pleased with the treatment Miyazaki’s films have received in the US (as has Miyazaki himself, who defended his Western distributor Disney against self-described “purists”). In some ways, I view American dubs occasionally as superior. But there are differences, if for no other reason than that the voice cast is different and hence is unlikely to be of precisely the same quality. For that reason, make note of the fact that my opinion of the film may change slightly (or not at all) when the film makes its official debut in America.
Now, that said, let’s get on to the review.
Plot
At its heart, Ponyo tells a very simple story. There are no big reveals, no massive twists, no hidden meanings, none of that which complicates a story. However, this does not necessarily make it a bad story as most of what makes a story good is how strongly it appeals to and draws in an audience. So while Ponyo may not be very complex, it is still a strong story in other respects.
I think the best way to describe Ponyo is as a less depressing, Japanese version of The Little Mermaid. Ponyo, the titular character, is, after all, described several times as a mermaid by other characters (though, likely, the characters mean a ningyo or “Japanese mermaid,” which is far different than a Western one in many respects). In other ways, its very much like WALL-E, being, at its core, a very sweet but not quite sappy love story, full of innocent feeling and “awe” moments. What makes it so unusual is that, at the same time, the main characters are prepubescent children and I cannot, for the life of me, think of another romance that focuses exclusively on a hero and heroine of that age. Weird.
Deep in the sea off of the coast of Japan, a powerful magician named Fujimoto watches over a school of fish - evidently his children. The eldest of the bunch, named Brünnhilde, decides it would be much more fun to go for a swim than stay cooped up in the tank he’s made for them. Sneaking away from her father, Bünnhilde escapes her father but becomes caught up in the industrial waste of Japan. Trapped in a discarded bottle, she is rescued by a curious boy who lives on a cliff by the seashore, named Sōsuke. Concerned over her welfare and admiring of her, Sōsuke names Brünnhilde “Ponyo” and decides to take her home in a bucket (her requiring water to survive and being approximately the size of a goldfish, for which she is commonly mistaken by several characters).
Fujimoto has since discovered his daughter’s disappearance and is intent on reclaiming her, using “wave demons” at his command to try and recover her. Much of the drama of the film comes from Brünnhilde, who decides she likes the name Ponyo better and uses it for the rest of the film to describe herself, trying to keep away from her father and stay with Sōsuke, for whom she’s taken a great liking. The chaos unleashed by this conflict between father and daughter, magical world and normal world, is the backdrop for the real story, which is about the bonding between Ponyo and Sōsuke.
In many ways the plot of Ponyo may seem completely nonsensical. New elements, such as the fact that Ponyo’s refusal to return home may result in the world’s destruction, are introduced on the fly with little or no exposition. The reasons for this are never explained beyond the fact that Ponyo possesses “great power.” But these fantastical and wild elements do not detract the film the way that they did in, say, Howl’s Moving Castle, which seemed more like a wild trip through Miyazaki’s head overlaid with some overly anvilicious and internally inconsistent moral messages about the war in Iraq than an entertaining film. Rather, like in Spirited Away, the weirdness and wacky spontaneity is part of the charm.
There’s also evidence of a far better constructed mythology than is actually presented. While Ponyo’s powers are not particularly well explained as to their nature, their origin seems to be clear, which is that Ponyo is neither human nor fish but the child of a powerful ocean goddess and a sorcerer, the latter having abandoned the world of the humans to live with his love in an inverse to what his daughter seems to be trying to do in the film - which is to live in the human world with Sōsuke. This is the kind of work that Miyazaki excels at, bringing a world to life with broad, overlapping strokes that give just enough detail to let your imagination do the rest of the work. It’s not the kind of world-building I typically do nor typically enjoy, but Miyazaki is among the best at it.
The conclusion of the film is a bit weak, if only because it is so abrupt. This is a bit odd, given that typically Miyazaki’s films are far more stronger on their last note, bringing the film to a complete resolution that, while perhaps not quite what the audience was looking for, leaves the impression of a finished story. If Ponyo fails at anything storywise, it is this and, while the ending is ultimately satisfactory it leaves a pang for resolution, since, essentially, the film ends on its climax.
Ultimately, Ponyo has a strong, if simplistic story, whose power comes not from its unpredictability nor its complexity, but rather its passion and heart. This is a story that, like last year’s WALL-E depends entirely on the soft gushy meltiness of your heart for its success and it succeeds very well at exploiting that bit. Powerful in its emotional resonance, Ponyo’s main weakness comes from its abrupt ending, which leaves the impression that there should be more - if only a little bit.
Score: 8.8 (out of 10)
Characters
As is usual for Miyazaki films, the cast of Ponyo is a rich one. And, as is also typical, there are no clear heroes or villains, though in the case of Ponyo this is less due to moral ambiguity and the question of pacifism as in many Miyazaki films and more due to the fact that Ponyo aims to be an innocent story about childish love and devotion with magical themes thrown in.
At the center of the story we have Ponyo herself, also known as Brünnhilde. Like many Miyazaki heroines she’s rebellious, but she manifests this differently than previous Miyazaki heroines. Whereas San from Mononoke is rebellious in the most literal sense or the titular heroine of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind is rebellious in the sense that she refuses to budge from her moral values, Ponyo is more straight up impetuous. She’s a rogue, for no better reason really than the fact that she’s trying to go her own way, rather than the way her protective father desires for her.
This makes Ponyo closest really to Chihiro/Sen from Spirited Away, but it’s not a perfect analogy there either. Spirited Away is really about a girl learning to be mature and grow up. Here, the story is rather about a girl who’s already grown up, and whose father hasn’t quite realized that just yet. She’s already independent and ready to make her own decisions, even if they are sometimes brash ones. Ponyo isn’t a brat who needs to be educated about the world’s hardships (which is not to say she doesn’t have some bratty characteristics). Rather, she’s a fun-loving and brave girl who’s decided she wants something and isn’t willing to give it up just because her father’s afraid of the consequences involved.
Which brings us to Fujimoto, who is the closest that Ponyo comes to a villain. However, Fujimoto is not a malevolent figure. In fact, in just about every fashion he’s a protective character, one who looks out for the welfare of not himself but rather all of his children, for whom he reserves great love, even if this is sometimes not perceived by them. His fault is not that he is violent (he is not) but rather that he’s overprotective. He is the archetype of the father who cannot imagine why some young boy is worthy of his little angel.
This archetype is underlain by another facet of Fujimoto, however, which is that it is heavily inferred that what Ponyo is attempting is exactly what Fujimoto has already done. That is to say, she’s rejecting his world for the world of another for whom she cares. Fujimoto, a human in origin, has done the same thing for his beloved, Granmamare, Ponyo’s mother. In this way, Fujimoto is very unsubtly a hypocrite, though one with noble intentions.
One could almost imagine Ponyo as a film about sexuality in this respect, since it is essentially about a father giving his daughter over to another family in marriage. And, like many fathers, he’s afraid of the consequences of this “union.” These metaphors, I think, are unintentional for the most part, however, and more of a result of the fact that they’re true to human nature. Ponyo doesn’t have to be overtly sexual (and indeed, it would be inappropriate given that it is a children’s film in just about every respect) to deal with the same topics that more overtly explicit tales of a girl’s coming of age would.
Oddly in the case of Ponyo, whereas it would be usual for a girl coming of age to be confronted by her mother (much as male coming age of stories typically involve a confrontation with the father) this is not the case here. Rather, it is Ponyo’s mother whom Ponyo sympathizes the most with. This may have more than a little to do with the fact that the writer is, after all, a male (Miyazaki) who naturally sees the father as the antagonist but it might also be an accession to the fact that Ponyo isn’t truly an adolescent yet and hence hasn’t come in to the usual mother/daughter nemesis dynamic. By all appearances and action Ponyo is very clearly still a child, even if she’s one who is paradoxically ready to come unto her own and make decisions for herself.
However, this also means that Granmamare is inevitably the story’s most dull character. There’s no conflict surrounding her since no one can see anything but nice stuff about her. Ponyo adores her. Fujimoto accedes to her will and loves her deeply. The other characters who encounter her make note of her wisdom and beauty. If Granmamare were more principal a character, rather than the minor supporting character that she is, it would be tempting to call her a Mary Sue.
Then again, she is a goddess.
As for the mortal world, the cast is at least as charming here. Sōsuke, evidently based on Miyazaki’s son Gorō, with whom the director was estranged for a time, is the embodiment of childhood. It’s very rare that writers successively portray children in fiction, who often act like adults in child form. However, here Miyazaki captures essentially what a 10-year old boy would act like - completely bipolar, ranging from wildly enthusiastic to supremely bored, from energetic to catatonic, from adorable to a whiny brat. Ponyo does this to some extent as well, but it is Sōsuke, as a mortal, who gets the role of really embodying the heart and mind of a child.
Sōsuke is actually probably the most rounded character in the film, at times stealing the show from the titular Ponyo. Sōsuke’s reactions throughout the film are precisely what you would expect from a child of his age and maturity level. Ultimately, he may be a little more mature than his age merits since the implications of his union with Ponyo are rather explicitly marital but given that Japan’s legal age of marriage is 13, this might be less surprising to a Japanese audience than to an American one. If anything changes in the translation, I expect it to be this.
Sōsuke’s relationship with his mother, Risa, is a bit strange, though it’s one I’ve seen in reality. At first, I was confused as to whether Risa was Sōsuke’s mother or elder sister (or something else entirely), a situation that would have been less muddled if Sōsuke had called his mother kāsan or haha (both traditional Japanese ways of referring to one’s mother) rather than calling her by her name. This implies, like so much of the film, a hidden backstory, a piece layered subtly through subtext rather than exposition.
This bit, combined with the relationship of Kōichi, Sōsuke’s father, and Risa, that leads me to believe that Sōsuke’s parents are rather young - perhaps no older than their early 20s. Cultural context provides this inference to me more than anything else, since Kōichi and Risa do not appear to be married, which is rather unusual for Japanese couples with children (who, nowadays tend to be older than 30). However, Risa’s sometimes childish tantrum at a later point (which is comical more than anything else) also provides this subtext, which makes both Risa and Kōichi interesting characters.
Whatever the case, the family is clearly nontraditional, since Risa is a working mother, rather than a stay-at-home and Kōichi doesn’t work in a business, as is considered the Japanese working ideal, but rather as a fisherman.
None of the other characters are particularly notable, but this should give an impression of the charm and variety inherent in the cast. While there are a few weaknesses overall, Ponyo’s characters are rich, sympathetic, charming, and, best yet, real. More than anything, they reminded me of people that I’d known. The fact that Miyazaki can do that, even to a stranger like me who lives thousands of miles from Japan, is astounding and shows that he still has his edge.
Score: 9.6 (out of 10)
Production
Studio Ghibli is well-known for its animation - and rightly so. Even films that are otherwise unremarkable are imbued with life by Ghibli’s animation team, which has produced some of the most remarkable vistas in animation - anywhere. I vastly prefer their work to Pixar’s, no offense the latter, which still shows that 2D animation has a future.
Miyazaki tried to go one further in Ponyo and show that traditional, drawn animation still has a future (note that since Mononoke most of Ghibli’s work has been digitally enhanced or originated, though it is still 2D). Whether he succeeds or not is a matter of question, but he does manage to produce some very nice pieces in the process. The art is also noticeably, as a result of the reliance on hand-drawn animation rather than digital animation, more monochromatic than some of Ghibli’s more recent productions. The blues are very blue, the reds very red, and there’s not all that much variety in color. That’s not necessarily bad, however, and its fits with the childish simplicity and magical wonder of the film’s story.
That said, it’s also less memorable overall. While there are some impressive vistas the film doesn’t have the same “voom” (for lack of a better word) as Mononoke, Spirited Away, or Howl’s Moving Castle, all of which were, to borrow from TV Tropes lingo, outright scenery porn. Ponyo is nowhere near as spectacular and while the colorful imagery is enjoyable, it lacks the majesty of Miyazaki’s other recent pictures.
Similarly, the musical quality of Ponyo, were it to be held on its own, is fair in its own right. But it doesn’t have the epic and emotionally manipulative magnificence of other, previous work. I don’t know if it was specifically because that Ponyo was intentionally childish and simplistic or because that Joe Hisaishi’s star is fading, but Ponyo, apart from its cute (if otherwise unremarkable) main theme, does not stand out for its music. Which is a shame, since Miyazaki’s previous films all have wonderful soundtracks.
On the other hand, while the art and music may be somewhat disappointing, the voice cast is not. Unlike many, I am usually skeptical of Japanese voice casts since they seem to rely on overacting far more than their American counterparts. While this might appeal to some, particularly American fans who can see no wrong in Japan, it often grates me, particularly when Japanese voice actresses put their talents up and front. Miyazaki himself has said something similar: “All the Japanese female voice actors have voices that are very coquettish and wanting male attention, which was not what we wanted at all.”
My feelings precisely.
That said, this film actually manages to avoid that entirely. Somehow, by a miracle of grace, Miyazaki found a wonderful Japanese voice cast with genuine talent, rather than simply the good fortune to be Japanese and not American. All of the voice talent are excellent and avoid the traditional archetypes that I often hear (big gruff male, small squeaky female, annoyingly perky young man). In particular, the actresses stand out because none of them are “coquettish and wanting of male attention.” They sound like independent women and girls. Which is a great relief to my ears.
Thumbs up, Miyazaki, for finding your casting director. Whoever they were, they did a stand up job.
In the end, Ponyo meets the high production standards of Ghibli, though in unusual ways and only just barely. It’s a different face that Ghibli usually puts on, but for the most part I don’t mind it, though I do find the lack of a magnificent soundtrack a bit jarring.
Score: 7.6 (out of 10)
Summary
Plot: 8.8
Characters: 9.6
Production: 8.4
Overall: 8.9
The Crystal Shard
Overview
Whatever you think of him, one cannot truly deny that R.A. Salvatore has been one of the biggest writers to hit fantasy fiction outside of Tolkein or Rowling. Salvatore’s work on the Drizzt series, as well as his own original Demonwars IP, have sold like hot cakes and have cemented Drizzt as one of the archetypical characters of fantasy, who stands comfortably alongside Aragon, Conan, Elric, Frodo, or Harry Potter. How else, after all, can one explain the innumerable copycats that came after him?
So Drizzt is big. That’s essentially what I’m getting at here. And given that, there must be something about him that’s appealing. Which is why I initially began my journey into the works of Salvatore, in spite of the vast amount of condemnations and booing that preceded him.
Not so long ago, I did my second Nivenus at the Desk feature, which was a review of Sojourn, the third novel in the Dark Elf Trilogy, a series of prequel novels that took provided the backstory to Drizzt Do’Urden’s tale. In it, I related how I’d been surprisingly impressed, given my lackluster feelings towards the first and second novels. It seems that, indeed, once Drizzt was removed from the drow society he so despised he became more interesting of a character and his story more worthwhile.
So it was that I decided it was worth my time to read the fourth novel in the series, which, like in the case of A New Hope, is really the first, having been Salvatore’s first novel. It turned out to be an enlightening experience in many ways, highlighting further Salvatore’s weaknesses and his strengths, while also beginning to give me an idea of why Drizzt eventually emerged as Salvatore’s trademark character.
Plot
Though chronologically The Crystal Shard is the fourth novel in the Drizzt series by Salvatore, it is, in fact, the first novel in terms of writing. As such, like A New Hope its really the story that gets the series going and little or no knowledge of the previous three books is ultimately necessary, what details that are required knowledge being revealed in snippets of dialogue. In fact, other than featuring Drizzt as one of the central characters, The Crystal Shard has next to nothing to do with the previous novels. It’s the start of its own story.
In the far wastes of the remote northern land known as Icewind Dale dwell ten villages, united together in a loose confederacy and neighboring both a small dwarven hold and several nomadic barbarian tribes. As such, the novel starts off in what is essentially a nexus of several cultures naturally at odds with one another, whose tenuous hold on peace is primarily ensured by trade and mutual fear. This peace is threatened, however, when the barbarians are united under a powerful warlord for the first time in living memory, while beyond this more mundane conflict powers beyond the prediction of any who live in Icewind Dale brew, preparing to make the frozen land the first step in their path to world domination.
Though the story sounds as though it could lead very easily into Tolkeinesque high fantasy, it does not in fact do this. Rather, the story of The Crystal Shard has far more in common with the sword and sorcery sub-genre than it does high fantasy, with magic portrayed almost solely as dangerous or negative and the heroes being martial, rather than moralistic. As such, it became evident to me for the first time that the Drizzt stories are not Tolkeinesque in any shape or fashion. Thematically, they’re much closer to the Conan stories.
Moving on past this bit of world-building, for which Salvatore is not largely responsible other than his depiction of drow society, since he’s writing in the Forgotten Realms created by Ed Greenwood, we move on to other qualities of the story. The tale is a pretty straightforward one for the most part. Good and evil are not muddled in the slightest and there are no vast and unpredictable twists. The structure is fairly solid, with a strong climax and a natural, if swift and open-ended resolution.
That said, the book has a poor sense of pacing. The first third of the novel spends most of its time setting up the milieu in which the rest of the novel is set. As such, in a way that is surprising for a novel whose central premise is action-packed adventure, The Crystal Shard starts off rather slow. It is only a third of the way through the novel that the story actually starts, jumping ten years from the first portion to the timeframe of the rest.
Fortunately, once we get this slow and ultimately unnecessary portion (seriously, it could be cut down to a prologue or a few introductory chapters) the pace picks up substantially. The rest of the novel is an entertaining read, with a swiftly but smoothly ascending crisis, culminating in a powerful and dramatic climax. However, it’s an open question whether or not readers will have the patience to read this far.
Ultimately, like Sojourn, The Crystal Shard suffers from an underdeveloped story. There’s nothing bad about the story and while much of it is predictable, it is solid, with few evident plot holes. More, it’s the case that there’s too little to engage someone who’s experienced in the genre or who has come across such gems as Tolkein or Rowling. That said, it is evident that Salvatore’s skill has improved over the years, as The Dark Elf trilogy was ultimately more spontaneous and engaging than this simplistic tale ends up being.
Score: 6.7 (out of 10)
Characters
Characters are inevitably an important part of The Crystal Shard given that it’s a cast that would stick with Salvatore for most of the rest of his career. This is a group of characters who have become well-known throughout fans of the genre or of the FR franchise, even by those who dislike Salvatore’s work. So why are these characters so memorable?
Incidentally, there’s a funny thing about The Crystal Shard. It may be the first Drizzt novel, but Drizzt isn’t the main character - at least not intentionally. While more time is spent on him than any other character in the novel, it’s very, very clear that this was unintentional and that Drizzt’s rise to popularity was never supposed to happen, as confirmed in interviews with the author himself. Rather, it was Wulfgar, a young barbarian, who was the intended hero.
And Wulfgar makes a fine hero in many ways. He’s more than a little bit “been there, done that” but he’s well-rounded. In Wulfgar, you see a headstrong, talented young man with an ounce too much confidence and an ounce too little good sense, though not in the sense that he comes off as stupid but rather, simply brash. He’s good-hearted but keen to seeing things from one perspective too easily and with a lack of experience that holds him back somewhat.
But there’s a few problems with Wulfgar that make it clear why Drizzt overtook him, even though the latter’s role was obviously meant to be the wizened old mentor type rather than the straight up hero (it would sort of be like Dumbledore overtaking Harry as the protagonist of his own series). First, Wulfgar really has been done to death before. Wulfgar is a nicer Conan or a rougher around the edges Aragorn. He’s an action hero with big muscles. And fantasy fiction has had more than its share of fantasy heroes with big muscles.
Also, he’s really not that deep of a character. I said he’s well-rounded, which is to say, he’s got enough dimensions to make him interesting enough to read about. But he doesn’t have the personality, nor the internal drama, to make him interesting as the main character. The biggest drama that seems to overtake him is the conflict between the nomadic way of life he’s accustomed to and the new moralistic outlook Bruenor and Drizzt hammer into him. But he overcomes this obstacle about two thirds of the way through the novel, leaving little more for his story to build upon.
Lastly, Bruenor doesn’t appear until near the end of the first third of the book and we only step into his perspective after that. As a result, we’re already accustomed to following Drizzt, Regis, and Bruenor by the time that Wulfgar shows up. He seems like an intruder, an outsider in his own story. Where did this young barbarian come from? And why do we care? This is another reason why the entire first third should have been eliminated - it detracts from Wulfgar’s character rather heavily.
Drizzt, on the other hand, who overtakes Bruenor is far more interesting. While his character’s backstory makes him liable to emo wangsting he admirably avoids this for most of the story, dwelling on his past only occasionally and more in comparison to Wulfgar’s personal history than as a source of constant misery. More importantly, the fact that there’s a potential for wangst means that Drizzt has far more internal drama than Bruenor. And since internal drama is part of what makes written fiction work, that makes him a far more interesting character straight up.
Secondly, Drizzt is unique. Excuse me, was unique. But the fact that his character has been mercilessly copied cannot really be held against Drizzt anymore than the fact that every science fiction story seems to have its scoundrel with a heart of gold can be held against Han Solo. The success is, in fact, a sign of Drizzt’s strength as a character. The idea of a good-hearted outcast from a race that is supposedly “always evil” makes for a strong story and plays well with the assumptions often made in fantasy about good and evil, namely, that it can be divided along lines of race (incidentally, this was never Tolkein’s intention with orcs). So in his own way, Drizzt was downright subversive when his character debuted.
Which is not to say that no one had done a Drizzt-like character before. But nobody had done one as successfully as Salvatore ended up doing. And part of that success is because Drizzt is a genuinely sympathetic and interesting character, conflicted over his personal doubts and his outcast nature both within his ancestral homeland and without while retaining a heart of good. And like all great heroes Drizzt, at least in this novel, is not without his faults. His temper and confidence can often be his downfall and it sometimes appears that Drizzt wins his battles as much through luck or teamwork (both incidents happen later in the novel) as he does through skill. So, while he may turn into a Mary Sue in later books (I don’t know, I haven’t read them) here at least he is a very well-balanced character with strengths and character flaws alike.
As for other characters, the most prominent of the heroes is Regis. Regis is a bit unusual, the reasons of which are somewhat obvious if one knows their D&D history. Namely, Regis was a character created in a time when D&D halflings were in an unusual stepping stone period between hobbits and kenders, a period they’ve only emerged from relatively recently and not without injury. Regis is clearly modeled in some ways after Tolkeinesque hobbits. He loves food. He loves comfort. He shies away from danger.
In other ways, however, Regis is completely different. He’s a thief and proud of his work, in contrast with hobbits who are adverse to any kind of disruption of tradition or protocol. It’s a contrast that works, however, since it is the central turmoil in his character: the urge to avoid danger and embrace safety fighting the need to prove his talents. As such, Regis is filled with a charm that many fantasy supporting characters are - he’s the unwillful hero, the hero’s who’s first instinct is to run, hide, and pull the blankets over his head rather than so much as think of facing danger. And he faces the danger anyway.
As such, he makes a surprisingly interesting and enjoyable tertiary character.
The other heroes cannot be given so much credit, however. Bruenor Battlehammer, Drizzt’s friend and the leader of the dwarves in Icewind Dale is little more than the fantasy stereotype of dwarves given forms. I’ve said before in my review of Neverwinter Nights 2 that Khelgar Ironfist is not a dwarven stereotype but rather a well-rounded, engaging, and entertaining character. Bruenor is none of these. Rather, he’s a gruff man with a soft heart. End of description.
It’s really disappointing, given how well-rounded the rest of Salvatore’s heroes are. But Bruenor has a shallowness that is ultimately inescapable. He could have been replaced with an entirely different character and I would have hardly cared. Perhaps he and the far more interesting supporting character of Cassius could have replaced his role (that of the fatherly figure who defends Drizzt and reforms Wulfgar). But then, I suppose, there wouldn’t have been the dwarf vs. human dynamic. Oh, well.
Not much can really be said of Catti-brie. I know she becomes much more important in later books, which was hinted very strongly in the previous novel Sojourn, but here she’s just eye candy essentially. Yes, I know, it’s a novel so technically she can’t be eye candy but essentially all she does in the novel is flirt with Wulfgar and make pretty eyes at him (while he watches her nicely shaped bottom, so writes the writer). It’s kind of ironic, given Salvatore’s derision of the Uthgardt culture as anti-feminist, when he doesn’t really give Catti-brie anything to do.
As for the villains, they’re an odd mix. At the center of the novel’s tale is Akar Kessel, as much of an accidental villain as Regis is an accidental hero. As Regis comes across a magical item and is forced into heroics through its use, so does Akar Kessel discover the titular shard, Creshinibon, which urges him into becoming an evil overlord. Were it not for this magical impetus, Kessel would have likely died forgotten and unknown, given that his chief characteristic seems to be his stupidity, followed shortly by his overconfidence - a dangerous combination.
Kessel is utterly despicable in just about every manner, to a point that may be detrimental. There’s no drama in Kessel’s scenes, because there’s no way in which the audience can sympathize with him. On the other hand, this does make the other villains of the story stand out much more strongly.
First is Errtu, the balor demon who so heavily overshadows Kessel that the moments focusing on the latter in which he is not present feel deeply empty. Errtu, like Kessel, is not really in any way sympathetic, but he manages to do this without becoming boring because, well, he’s a demon and boy, does the author have fun with that concept. Unlike Kessel, who’s merely pathetically evil (seriously, it’s like making Grima Wormtongue the chief villain of Lord of the Rings), Errtu radiates malevolence. He’s pure evil and he loves it. I haven’t read a villain who was do despicably lovingly evil for a long, long while - I’d kind of forgotten that it was possible to do a villain that was interesting without making them somewhat good. But it is, and Errtu would think no more of killing a mortal than we would swatting at an irritating fly. He probably eats orc babies for breakfast, just for the Hells of it.
There’s also Heafstaag, a barbarian warlord along the lines typical of sword and sorcery or historical fiction. Again, this means a character who’s not particularly well developed in any shape or form. He hates weakness, thinks he’s the strong man, and ends up getting broken down by the real villain of the story. Not all that interesting.
On the other hand, Creshinibon is. Like the One Ring, Creshinibon is a character in of itself, though to an extent that is far more evident than in Lord of the Rings, where the One Ring was explicitly not an independent being but rather an extension of Sauron’s will. Unlike the One Ring, Creshinibon is an artifact with its own agenda and goals, which may or may not match those of its allies. In fact, the most interesting part of the villain interactions in The Crystal Shard is the fact that Creshinibon is playing everyone against each other. It cares no more for Errtu the powerful balor than it does Kessel the lowly mage’s apprentice, using both for its own gain.
And unlike the One Ring, Creshinibon can actually turn its bearer into a power for change, whereas the One Ring got stuck with Gollum for several centuries. That’s not to say that Creshinibon is inherently better than the One Ring. After all, it is in some ways a copy cat (though it doesn’t so much seem to corrupt its users as give them the means to make their ambitions a reality). But it is interesting and it makes an unusual villain.
All in all, the quality of characters in The Crystal Shard varies wildly. On the one hand, Drizzt makes an engaging hero and Regis complements him nicely with Errtu and Creshinibon providing two strong villains. On the other hand, the intended hero, Wulfgar, is somewhat lackluster and the chief villain Kessel is, frankly, downright pathetic. So, in the end, how much you enjoy the characters of The Crystal Shard depends largely upon how much emphasis you put on its strengths, versus its weaknesses.
Score:7.3 (out of 10)
Prose
As in the case of Sojourn, this is where Salvatore really stands out and where the appeal of his novels is enormously easy to see. I have come across few writers who can so easily capture the attention of an audience as Salvatore, whose prose is outright outstanding. Even though his characters can sometimes be shallow and his stories generic, Salvatore’s writing style exceeds virtually everything else on the market, as least in the quality of its prose.
As in Sojourn, the quality of the fight scenes is admirable. It is very, very hard to right combat in prose without either using too few details or giving too much. Salvatore really hits the sweet spot, making his fight scenes dramatic and engaging in a way I aspire to in my writing. It’s easy to imagine the fights, easy to see Drizzt dancing through combat with his twin blades, easy to see Wulfgar shake off the blows of giants or fell a mighty dragon. That is an accomplishment.
And the quality of prose doesn’t really end with the action sequences. Throughout the entire novel, Salvatore’s voice rings with a sincerity and descriptive clarity. This is not, however, to be sure the prose of a Tolkein. Where Salvatore shines is not in making layered and beautiful volumes of purple prose but in delivering information in short, terse bites that are easy to digest. It’s more Hemmingway than Tolkein.
Overall, the simple but engaging prose is the single best thing about The Crystal Shard and what sets it apart from most other fantasy works I’ve read
Score: 9.0 (out of 10)
Summary
Plot: 6.7
Characters: 7.3
Prose: 9.0
Overall: 7.7
This time round I have something extra special. A treat if you will. I had, not very long ago, the unique opportunity to see Miyazaki’s new film, Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea - which will not be due for release in the United States until August 14. So you see, this time, I’m actually ahead of the game.
I’ll also be reviewing R.A. Salvatore’s The Crystal Shard, the first novel in the author’s Drizzt cycle.
EDIT: As I was preparing my animated triple review I decided my review of Ponyo's production values was unnecessarily harsh. So I've revised my rating there.
What the Score Means
10.0: Excellent. Terrific. Might not be perfect, but it's damn close. Best in the field.
9.0: Pretty damn good. I've seen better stuff, but not much. Most people should enjoy it.
8.0: Pretty good, if you really like this sort of stuff, but it might be more underwhelming if you're not. Even if you are one of the latter, though, I'd expect you to find it passingly amusing, if nothing else.
7.0: Good or average, but take note that your mileage may vary. In other words, if you're already a fan or predisposed to works like this you may really like it or think it's good. But if you're not, steer clear or at least approach with a cautiously open mind.
6.0: Meh. You might enjoy it, but I wouldn't guarantee it. If you do like it, it'll probably be a passing thing and I wouldn't count on it having any revisitable value. Semi-average, semi-poor. What I like to call "thoroughly mediocre."
5.0: This steps beyond thoroughly mediocre into the realm of true bad. I'd be surprised if anyone thought this was high quality and would be highly suspect of their opinions from the on on matters of criticism. It might not be horrible, but it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
4.0: Okay, we've definitely passed into bad here. This stuff actually will make you walk out of a movie theater it's so lame. It's not even stylistically bad. It's just boring bad and you likely won't have the patience to go through with it.
3.0: This is a weird little category few get to but a few deliberately reach for. So bad it's good. That is to say, if you take this at face value it's going to be horrific. But, if you just hang along for the ride and turn off your brain or, conversely, decide to get ridiculously symbolic about it, it can actually be very entertaining, if only for its comically bad quality.
2.0: Could be so bad it's good, but more likely this has verged into so bad it's horrible quality. There's nothing funny about it, except perhaps that the human mind could be so warped that it would actually produce the shit. Not fun.
0-1.0: Burn! Burrrrrrn! Burn the evil! It hurts!
Table of Contents
Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea
The Crystal Shard
Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea
Overview
I’ve been a fan of Miyazaki’s work for some time now. He’s not my favorite filmmaker, but he’s up there. It was his film Princess Mononoke that really introduced me to anime and to Japanese mythology, both of which have influenced my work substantially since (though, in retrospect, I have to give some of the credit to Neil Gaiman, who wrote the English dub). Because of that, there was no way I was going to pass up the opportunity that came to me a few weeks ago.
Over here at Pacific University I’m a member of the Japan Club. Normally, all that means is that, while practicing my poor grasp of the Japanese language, I make a few crafts or cook a few meals that are related in some way to a Japanese holiday. Occasionally, we watch a movie. A few weeks ago, right before the break, we got an unusual opportunity when one of the Club’s prominent members, a teacher’s assistant who’s originally from Japan, gave us the opportunity to do a small, private screening of Ponyo months before it would officially be released in the U.S.
In spite of the fact that I’d been disappointed by Miyazaki’s last film, Howl’s Moving Castle, and therefore had some apprehensions about Ponyo I wasn’t going to miss the chance to be literally one of the first Americans to see the film. So, I joined in on the excitement and put aside my skepticism and worries and instead embraced my general enthusiasm for Miyazaki’s work as a whole.
I wasn’t disappointed.
Sure, Ponyo was more childish than many of Miyazaki’s previous films, including stuff like Totoro, but this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. After all, WALL-E was, if anything, childish, but it was also a wonderfully and surprisingly charming film, even for a darker and edgier heart like mine. Any jadings were melted by Ponyo, whose wit and charm and overall cuteness just overwhelmed my wirings. More on that to come.
I don’t know if this is Miyazaki’s swan song (he previously claimed Mononoke and Spirited Away were) but if it is, it’s a good way to bring his illustrious career to an end.
Before I proceed any further into the gory details let me make one thing clear. This was the Japanese version of the film I watched, not the American dub that will be screened later this summer. As such, I will be rereviewing the film at a later date to make note of any changes in quality in the American dub. I also want to make it clear that I do not necessarily consider the Japanese version superior in any form or shape. In general, I have been very pleased with the treatment Miyazaki’s films have received in the US (as has Miyazaki himself, who defended his Western distributor Disney against self-described “purists”). In some ways, I view American dubs occasionally as superior. But there are differences, if for no other reason than that the voice cast is different and hence is unlikely to be of precisely the same quality. For that reason, make note of the fact that my opinion of the film may change slightly (or not at all) when the film makes its official debut in America.
Now, that said, let’s get on to the review.
Plot
At its heart, Ponyo tells a very simple story. There are no big reveals, no massive twists, no hidden meanings, none of that which complicates a story. However, this does not necessarily make it a bad story as most of what makes a story good is how strongly it appeals to and draws in an audience. So while Ponyo may not be very complex, it is still a strong story in other respects.
I think the best way to describe Ponyo is as a less depressing, Japanese version of The Little Mermaid. Ponyo, the titular character, is, after all, described several times as a mermaid by other characters (though, likely, the characters mean a ningyo or “Japanese mermaid,” which is far different than a Western one in many respects). In other ways, its very much like WALL-E, being, at its core, a very sweet but not quite sappy love story, full of innocent feeling and “awe” moments. What makes it so unusual is that, at the same time, the main characters are prepubescent children and I cannot, for the life of me, think of another romance that focuses exclusively on a hero and heroine of that age. Weird.
Deep in the sea off of the coast of Japan, a powerful magician named Fujimoto watches over a school of fish - evidently his children. The eldest of the bunch, named Brünnhilde, decides it would be much more fun to go for a swim than stay cooped up in the tank he’s made for them. Sneaking away from her father, Bünnhilde escapes her father but becomes caught up in the industrial waste of Japan. Trapped in a discarded bottle, she is rescued by a curious boy who lives on a cliff by the seashore, named Sōsuke. Concerned over her welfare and admiring of her, Sōsuke names Brünnhilde “Ponyo” and decides to take her home in a bucket (her requiring water to survive and being approximately the size of a goldfish, for which she is commonly mistaken by several characters).
Fujimoto has since discovered his daughter’s disappearance and is intent on reclaiming her, using “wave demons” at his command to try and recover her. Much of the drama of the film comes from Brünnhilde, who decides she likes the name Ponyo better and uses it for the rest of the film to describe herself, trying to keep away from her father and stay with Sōsuke, for whom she’s taken a great liking. The chaos unleashed by this conflict between father and daughter, magical world and normal world, is the backdrop for the real story, which is about the bonding between Ponyo and Sōsuke.
In many ways the plot of Ponyo may seem completely nonsensical. New elements, such as the fact that Ponyo’s refusal to return home may result in the world’s destruction, are introduced on the fly with little or no exposition. The reasons for this are never explained beyond the fact that Ponyo possesses “great power.” But these fantastical and wild elements do not detract the film the way that they did in, say, Howl’s Moving Castle, which seemed more like a wild trip through Miyazaki’s head overlaid with some overly anvilicious and internally inconsistent moral messages about the war in Iraq than an entertaining film. Rather, like in Spirited Away, the weirdness and wacky spontaneity is part of the charm.
There’s also evidence of a far better constructed mythology than is actually presented. While Ponyo’s powers are not particularly well explained as to their nature, their origin seems to be clear, which is that Ponyo is neither human nor fish but the child of a powerful ocean goddess and a sorcerer, the latter having abandoned the world of the humans to live with his love in an inverse to what his daughter seems to be trying to do in the film - which is to live in the human world with Sōsuke. This is the kind of work that Miyazaki excels at, bringing a world to life with broad, overlapping strokes that give just enough detail to let your imagination do the rest of the work. It’s not the kind of world-building I typically do nor typically enjoy, but Miyazaki is among the best at it.
The conclusion of the film is a bit weak, if only because it is so abrupt. This is a bit odd, given that typically Miyazaki’s films are far more stronger on their last note, bringing the film to a complete resolution that, while perhaps not quite what the audience was looking for, leaves the impression of a finished story. If Ponyo fails at anything storywise, it is this and, while the ending is ultimately satisfactory it leaves a pang for resolution, since, essentially, the film ends on its climax.
Ultimately, Ponyo has a strong, if simplistic story, whose power comes not from its unpredictability nor its complexity, but rather its passion and heart. This is a story that, like last year’s WALL-E depends entirely on the soft gushy meltiness of your heart for its success and it succeeds very well at exploiting that bit. Powerful in its emotional resonance, Ponyo’s main weakness comes from its abrupt ending, which leaves the impression that there should be more - if only a little bit.
Score: 8.8 (out of 10)
Characters
As is usual for Miyazaki films, the cast of Ponyo is a rich one. And, as is also typical, there are no clear heroes or villains, though in the case of Ponyo this is less due to moral ambiguity and the question of pacifism as in many Miyazaki films and more due to the fact that Ponyo aims to be an innocent story about childish love and devotion with magical themes thrown in.
At the center of the story we have Ponyo herself, also known as Brünnhilde. Like many Miyazaki heroines she’s rebellious, but she manifests this differently than previous Miyazaki heroines. Whereas San from Mononoke is rebellious in the most literal sense or the titular heroine of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind is rebellious in the sense that she refuses to budge from her moral values, Ponyo is more straight up impetuous. She’s a rogue, for no better reason really than the fact that she’s trying to go her own way, rather than the way her protective father desires for her.
This makes Ponyo closest really to Chihiro/Sen from Spirited Away, but it’s not a perfect analogy there either. Spirited Away is really about a girl learning to be mature and grow up. Here, the story is rather about a girl who’s already grown up, and whose father hasn’t quite realized that just yet. She’s already independent and ready to make her own decisions, even if they are sometimes brash ones. Ponyo isn’t a brat who needs to be educated about the world’s hardships (which is not to say she doesn’t have some bratty characteristics). Rather, she’s a fun-loving and brave girl who’s decided she wants something and isn’t willing to give it up just because her father’s afraid of the consequences involved.
Which brings us to Fujimoto, who is the closest that Ponyo comes to a villain. However, Fujimoto is not a malevolent figure. In fact, in just about every fashion he’s a protective character, one who looks out for the welfare of not himself but rather all of his children, for whom he reserves great love, even if this is sometimes not perceived by them. His fault is not that he is violent (he is not) but rather that he’s overprotective. He is the archetype of the father who cannot imagine why some young boy is worthy of his little angel.
This archetype is underlain by another facet of Fujimoto, however, which is that it is heavily inferred that what Ponyo is attempting is exactly what Fujimoto has already done. That is to say, she’s rejecting his world for the world of another for whom she cares. Fujimoto, a human in origin, has done the same thing for his beloved, Granmamare, Ponyo’s mother. In this way, Fujimoto is very unsubtly a hypocrite, though one with noble intentions.
One could almost imagine Ponyo as a film about sexuality in this respect, since it is essentially about a father giving his daughter over to another family in marriage. And, like many fathers, he’s afraid of the consequences of this “union.” These metaphors, I think, are unintentional for the most part, however, and more of a result of the fact that they’re true to human nature. Ponyo doesn’t have to be overtly sexual (and indeed, it would be inappropriate given that it is a children’s film in just about every respect) to deal with the same topics that more overtly explicit tales of a girl’s coming of age would.
Oddly in the case of Ponyo, whereas it would be usual for a girl coming of age to be confronted by her mother (much as male coming age of stories typically involve a confrontation with the father) this is not the case here. Rather, it is Ponyo’s mother whom Ponyo sympathizes the most with. This may have more than a little to do with the fact that the writer is, after all, a male (Miyazaki) who naturally sees the father as the antagonist but it might also be an accession to the fact that Ponyo isn’t truly an adolescent yet and hence hasn’t come in to the usual mother/daughter nemesis dynamic. By all appearances and action Ponyo is very clearly still a child, even if she’s one who is paradoxically ready to come unto her own and make decisions for herself.
However, this also means that Granmamare is inevitably the story’s most dull character. There’s no conflict surrounding her since no one can see anything but nice stuff about her. Ponyo adores her. Fujimoto accedes to her will and loves her deeply. The other characters who encounter her make note of her wisdom and beauty. If Granmamare were more principal a character, rather than the minor supporting character that she is, it would be tempting to call her a Mary Sue.
Then again, she is a goddess.
As for the mortal world, the cast is at least as charming here. Sōsuke, evidently based on Miyazaki’s son Gorō, with whom the director was estranged for a time, is the embodiment of childhood. It’s very rare that writers successively portray children in fiction, who often act like adults in child form. However, here Miyazaki captures essentially what a 10-year old boy would act like - completely bipolar, ranging from wildly enthusiastic to supremely bored, from energetic to catatonic, from adorable to a whiny brat. Ponyo does this to some extent as well, but it is Sōsuke, as a mortal, who gets the role of really embodying the heart and mind of a child.
Sōsuke is actually probably the most rounded character in the film, at times stealing the show from the titular Ponyo. Sōsuke’s reactions throughout the film are precisely what you would expect from a child of his age and maturity level. Ultimately, he may be a little more mature than his age merits since the implications of his union with Ponyo are rather explicitly marital but given that Japan’s legal age of marriage is 13, this might be less surprising to a Japanese audience than to an American one. If anything changes in the translation, I expect it to be this.
Sōsuke’s relationship with his mother, Risa, is a bit strange, though it’s one I’ve seen in reality. At first, I was confused as to whether Risa was Sōsuke’s mother or elder sister (or something else entirely), a situation that would have been less muddled if Sōsuke had called his mother kāsan or haha (both traditional Japanese ways of referring to one’s mother) rather than calling her by her name. This implies, like so much of the film, a hidden backstory, a piece layered subtly through subtext rather than exposition.
This bit, combined with the relationship of Kōichi, Sōsuke’s father, and Risa, that leads me to believe that Sōsuke’s parents are rather young - perhaps no older than their early 20s. Cultural context provides this inference to me more than anything else, since Kōichi and Risa do not appear to be married, which is rather unusual for Japanese couples with children (who, nowadays tend to be older than 30). However, Risa’s sometimes childish tantrum at a later point (which is comical more than anything else) also provides this subtext, which makes both Risa and Kōichi interesting characters.
Whatever the case, the family is clearly nontraditional, since Risa is a working mother, rather than a stay-at-home and Kōichi doesn’t work in a business, as is considered the Japanese working ideal, but rather as a fisherman.
None of the other characters are particularly notable, but this should give an impression of the charm and variety inherent in the cast. While there are a few weaknesses overall, Ponyo’s characters are rich, sympathetic, charming, and, best yet, real. More than anything, they reminded me of people that I’d known. The fact that Miyazaki can do that, even to a stranger like me who lives thousands of miles from Japan, is astounding and shows that he still has his edge.
Score: 9.6 (out of 10)
Production
Studio Ghibli is well-known for its animation - and rightly so. Even films that are otherwise unremarkable are imbued with life by Ghibli’s animation team, which has produced some of the most remarkable vistas in animation - anywhere. I vastly prefer their work to Pixar’s, no offense the latter, which still shows that 2D animation has a future.
Miyazaki tried to go one further in Ponyo and show that traditional, drawn animation still has a future (note that since Mononoke most of Ghibli’s work has been digitally enhanced or originated, though it is still 2D). Whether he succeeds or not is a matter of question, but he does manage to produce some very nice pieces in the process. The art is also noticeably, as a result of the reliance on hand-drawn animation rather than digital animation, more monochromatic than some of Ghibli’s more recent productions. The blues are very blue, the reds very red, and there’s not all that much variety in color. That’s not necessarily bad, however, and its fits with the childish simplicity and magical wonder of the film’s story.
That said, it’s also less memorable overall. While there are some impressive vistas the film doesn’t have the same “voom” (for lack of a better word) as Mononoke, Spirited Away, or Howl’s Moving Castle, all of which were, to borrow from TV Tropes lingo, outright scenery porn. Ponyo is nowhere near as spectacular and while the colorful imagery is enjoyable, it lacks the majesty of Miyazaki’s other recent pictures.
Similarly, the musical quality of Ponyo, were it to be held on its own, is fair in its own right. But it doesn’t have the epic and emotionally manipulative magnificence of other, previous work. I don’t know if it was specifically because that Ponyo was intentionally childish and simplistic or because that Joe Hisaishi’s star is fading, but Ponyo, apart from its cute (if otherwise unremarkable) main theme, does not stand out for its music. Which is a shame, since Miyazaki’s previous films all have wonderful soundtracks.
On the other hand, while the art and music may be somewhat disappointing, the voice cast is not. Unlike many, I am usually skeptical of Japanese voice casts since they seem to rely on overacting far more than their American counterparts. While this might appeal to some, particularly American fans who can see no wrong in Japan, it often grates me, particularly when Japanese voice actresses put their talents up and front. Miyazaki himself has said something similar: “All the Japanese female voice actors have voices that are very coquettish and wanting male attention, which was not what we wanted at all.”
My feelings precisely.
That said, this film actually manages to avoid that entirely. Somehow, by a miracle of grace, Miyazaki found a wonderful Japanese voice cast with genuine talent, rather than simply the good fortune to be Japanese and not American. All of the voice talent are excellent and avoid the traditional archetypes that I often hear (big gruff male, small squeaky female, annoyingly perky young man). In particular, the actresses stand out because none of them are “coquettish and wanting of male attention.” They sound like independent women and girls. Which is a great relief to my ears.
Thumbs up, Miyazaki, for finding your casting director. Whoever they were, they did a stand up job.
In the end, Ponyo meets the high production standards of Ghibli, though in unusual ways and only just barely. It’s a different face that Ghibli usually puts on, but for the most part I don’t mind it, though I do find the lack of a magnificent soundtrack a bit jarring.
Score: 7.6 (out of 10)
Summary
Plot: 8.8
Characters: 9.6
Production: 8.4
Overall: 8.9
The Crystal Shard
Overview
Whatever you think of him, one cannot truly deny that R.A. Salvatore has been one of the biggest writers to hit fantasy fiction outside of Tolkein or Rowling. Salvatore’s work on the Drizzt series, as well as his own original Demonwars IP, have sold like hot cakes and have cemented Drizzt as one of the archetypical characters of fantasy, who stands comfortably alongside Aragon, Conan, Elric, Frodo, or Harry Potter. How else, after all, can one explain the innumerable copycats that came after him?
So Drizzt is big. That’s essentially what I’m getting at here. And given that, there must be something about him that’s appealing. Which is why I initially began my journey into the works of Salvatore, in spite of the vast amount of condemnations and booing that preceded him.
Not so long ago, I did my second Nivenus at the Desk feature, which was a review of Sojourn, the third novel in the Dark Elf Trilogy, a series of prequel novels that took provided the backstory to Drizzt Do’Urden’s tale. In it, I related how I’d been surprisingly impressed, given my lackluster feelings towards the first and second novels. It seems that, indeed, once Drizzt was removed from the drow society he so despised he became more interesting of a character and his story more worthwhile.
So it was that I decided it was worth my time to read the fourth novel in the series, which, like in the case of A New Hope, is really the first, having been Salvatore’s first novel. It turned out to be an enlightening experience in many ways, highlighting further Salvatore’s weaknesses and his strengths, while also beginning to give me an idea of why Drizzt eventually emerged as Salvatore’s trademark character.
Plot
Though chronologically The Crystal Shard is the fourth novel in the Drizzt series by Salvatore, it is, in fact, the first novel in terms of writing. As such, like A New Hope its really the story that gets the series going and little or no knowledge of the previous three books is ultimately necessary, what details that are required knowledge being revealed in snippets of dialogue. In fact, other than featuring Drizzt as one of the central characters, The Crystal Shard has next to nothing to do with the previous novels. It’s the start of its own story.
In the far wastes of the remote northern land known as Icewind Dale dwell ten villages, united together in a loose confederacy and neighboring both a small dwarven hold and several nomadic barbarian tribes. As such, the novel starts off in what is essentially a nexus of several cultures naturally at odds with one another, whose tenuous hold on peace is primarily ensured by trade and mutual fear. This peace is threatened, however, when the barbarians are united under a powerful warlord for the first time in living memory, while beyond this more mundane conflict powers beyond the prediction of any who live in Icewind Dale brew, preparing to make the frozen land the first step in their path to world domination.
Though the story sounds as though it could lead very easily into Tolkeinesque high fantasy, it does not in fact do this. Rather, the story of The Crystal Shard has far more in common with the sword and sorcery sub-genre than it does high fantasy, with magic portrayed almost solely as dangerous or negative and the heroes being martial, rather than moralistic. As such, it became evident to me for the first time that the Drizzt stories are not Tolkeinesque in any shape or fashion. Thematically, they’re much closer to the Conan stories.
Moving on past this bit of world-building, for which Salvatore is not largely responsible other than his depiction of drow society, since he’s writing in the Forgotten Realms created by Ed Greenwood, we move on to other qualities of the story. The tale is a pretty straightforward one for the most part. Good and evil are not muddled in the slightest and there are no vast and unpredictable twists. The structure is fairly solid, with a strong climax and a natural, if swift and open-ended resolution.
That said, the book has a poor sense of pacing. The first third of the novel spends most of its time setting up the milieu in which the rest of the novel is set. As such, in a way that is surprising for a novel whose central premise is action-packed adventure, The Crystal Shard starts off rather slow. It is only a third of the way through the novel that the story actually starts, jumping ten years from the first portion to the timeframe of the rest.
Fortunately, once we get this slow and ultimately unnecessary portion (seriously, it could be cut down to a prologue or a few introductory chapters) the pace picks up substantially. The rest of the novel is an entertaining read, with a swiftly but smoothly ascending crisis, culminating in a powerful and dramatic climax. However, it’s an open question whether or not readers will have the patience to read this far.
Ultimately, like Sojourn, The Crystal Shard suffers from an underdeveloped story. There’s nothing bad about the story and while much of it is predictable, it is solid, with few evident plot holes. More, it’s the case that there’s too little to engage someone who’s experienced in the genre or who has come across such gems as Tolkein or Rowling. That said, it is evident that Salvatore’s skill has improved over the years, as The Dark Elf trilogy was ultimately more spontaneous and engaging than this simplistic tale ends up being.
Score: 6.7 (out of 10)
Characters
Characters are inevitably an important part of The Crystal Shard given that it’s a cast that would stick with Salvatore for most of the rest of his career. This is a group of characters who have become well-known throughout fans of the genre or of the FR franchise, even by those who dislike Salvatore’s work. So why are these characters so memorable?
Incidentally, there’s a funny thing about The Crystal Shard. It may be the first Drizzt novel, but Drizzt isn’t the main character - at least not intentionally. While more time is spent on him than any other character in the novel, it’s very, very clear that this was unintentional and that Drizzt’s rise to popularity was never supposed to happen, as confirmed in interviews with the author himself. Rather, it was Wulfgar, a young barbarian, who was the intended hero.
And Wulfgar makes a fine hero in many ways. He’s more than a little bit “been there, done that” but he’s well-rounded. In Wulfgar, you see a headstrong, talented young man with an ounce too much confidence and an ounce too little good sense, though not in the sense that he comes off as stupid but rather, simply brash. He’s good-hearted but keen to seeing things from one perspective too easily and with a lack of experience that holds him back somewhat.
But there’s a few problems with Wulfgar that make it clear why Drizzt overtook him, even though the latter’s role was obviously meant to be the wizened old mentor type rather than the straight up hero (it would sort of be like Dumbledore overtaking Harry as the protagonist of his own series). First, Wulfgar really has been done to death before. Wulfgar is a nicer Conan or a rougher around the edges Aragorn. He’s an action hero with big muscles. And fantasy fiction has had more than its share of fantasy heroes with big muscles.
Also, he’s really not that deep of a character. I said he’s well-rounded, which is to say, he’s got enough dimensions to make him interesting enough to read about. But he doesn’t have the personality, nor the internal drama, to make him interesting as the main character. The biggest drama that seems to overtake him is the conflict between the nomadic way of life he’s accustomed to and the new moralistic outlook Bruenor and Drizzt hammer into him. But he overcomes this obstacle about two thirds of the way through the novel, leaving little more for his story to build upon.
Lastly, Bruenor doesn’t appear until near the end of the first third of the book and we only step into his perspective after that. As a result, we’re already accustomed to following Drizzt, Regis, and Bruenor by the time that Wulfgar shows up. He seems like an intruder, an outsider in his own story. Where did this young barbarian come from? And why do we care? This is another reason why the entire first third should have been eliminated - it detracts from Wulfgar’s character rather heavily.
Drizzt, on the other hand, who overtakes Bruenor is far more interesting. While his character’s backstory makes him liable to emo wangsting he admirably avoids this for most of the story, dwelling on his past only occasionally and more in comparison to Wulfgar’s personal history than as a source of constant misery. More importantly, the fact that there’s a potential for wangst means that Drizzt has far more internal drama than Bruenor. And since internal drama is part of what makes written fiction work, that makes him a far more interesting character straight up.
Secondly, Drizzt is unique. Excuse me, was unique. But the fact that his character has been mercilessly copied cannot really be held against Drizzt anymore than the fact that every science fiction story seems to have its scoundrel with a heart of gold can be held against Han Solo. The success is, in fact, a sign of Drizzt’s strength as a character. The idea of a good-hearted outcast from a race that is supposedly “always evil” makes for a strong story and plays well with the assumptions often made in fantasy about good and evil, namely, that it can be divided along lines of race (incidentally, this was never Tolkein’s intention with orcs). So in his own way, Drizzt was downright subversive when his character debuted.
Which is not to say that no one had done a Drizzt-like character before. But nobody had done one as successfully as Salvatore ended up doing. And part of that success is because Drizzt is a genuinely sympathetic and interesting character, conflicted over his personal doubts and his outcast nature both within his ancestral homeland and without while retaining a heart of good. And like all great heroes Drizzt, at least in this novel, is not without his faults. His temper and confidence can often be his downfall and it sometimes appears that Drizzt wins his battles as much through luck or teamwork (both incidents happen later in the novel) as he does through skill. So, while he may turn into a Mary Sue in later books (I don’t know, I haven’t read them) here at least he is a very well-balanced character with strengths and character flaws alike.
As for other characters, the most prominent of the heroes is Regis. Regis is a bit unusual, the reasons of which are somewhat obvious if one knows their D&D history. Namely, Regis was a character created in a time when D&D halflings were in an unusual stepping stone period between hobbits and kenders, a period they’ve only emerged from relatively recently and not without injury. Regis is clearly modeled in some ways after Tolkeinesque hobbits. He loves food. He loves comfort. He shies away from danger.
In other ways, however, Regis is completely different. He’s a thief and proud of his work, in contrast with hobbits who are adverse to any kind of disruption of tradition or protocol. It’s a contrast that works, however, since it is the central turmoil in his character: the urge to avoid danger and embrace safety fighting the need to prove his talents. As such, Regis is filled with a charm that many fantasy supporting characters are - he’s the unwillful hero, the hero’s who’s first instinct is to run, hide, and pull the blankets over his head rather than so much as think of facing danger. And he faces the danger anyway.
As such, he makes a surprisingly interesting and enjoyable tertiary character.
The other heroes cannot be given so much credit, however. Bruenor Battlehammer, Drizzt’s friend and the leader of the dwarves in Icewind Dale is little more than the fantasy stereotype of dwarves given forms. I’ve said before in my review of Neverwinter Nights 2 that Khelgar Ironfist is not a dwarven stereotype but rather a well-rounded, engaging, and entertaining character. Bruenor is none of these. Rather, he’s a gruff man with a soft heart. End of description.
It’s really disappointing, given how well-rounded the rest of Salvatore’s heroes are. But Bruenor has a shallowness that is ultimately inescapable. He could have been replaced with an entirely different character and I would have hardly cared. Perhaps he and the far more interesting supporting character of Cassius could have replaced his role (that of the fatherly figure who defends Drizzt and reforms Wulfgar). But then, I suppose, there wouldn’t have been the dwarf vs. human dynamic. Oh, well.
Not much can really be said of Catti-brie. I know she becomes much more important in later books, which was hinted very strongly in the previous novel Sojourn, but here she’s just eye candy essentially. Yes, I know, it’s a novel so technically she can’t be eye candy but essentially all she does in the novel is flirt with Wulfgar and make pretty eyes at him (while he watches her nicely shaped bottom, so writes the writer). It’s kind of ironic, given Salvatore’s derision of the Uthgardt culture as anti-feminist, when he doesn’t really give Catti-brie anything to do.
As for the villains, they’re an odd mix. At the center of the novel’s tale is Akar Kessel, as much of an accidental villain as Regis is an accidental hero. As Regis comes across a magical item and is forced into heroics through its use, so does Akar Kessel discover the titular shard, Creshinibon, which urges him into becoming an evil overlord. Were it not for this magical impetus, Kessel would have likely died forgotten and unknown, given that his chief characteristic seems to be his stupidity, followed shortly by his overconfidence - a dangerous combination.
Kessel is utterly despicable in just about every manner, to a point that may be detrimental. There’s no drama in Kessel’s scenes, because there’s no way in which the audience can sympathize with him. On the other hand, this does make the other villains of the story stand out much more strongly.
First is Errtu, the balor demon who so heavily overshadows Kessel that the moments focusing on the latter in which he is not present feel deeply empty. Errtu, like Kessel, is not really in any way sympathetic, but he manages to do this without becoming boring because, well, he’s a demon and boy, does the author have fun with that concept. Unlike Kessel, who’s merely pathetically evil (seriously, it’s like making Grima Wormtongue the chief villain of Lord of the Rings), Errtu radiates malevolence. He’s pure evil and he loves it. I haven’t read a villain who was do despicably lovingly evil for a long, long while - I’d kind of forgotten that it was possible to do a villain that was interesting without making them somewhat good. But it is, and Errtu would think no more of killing a mortal than we would swatting at an irritating fly. He probably eats orc babies for breakfast, just for the Hells of it.
There’s also Heafstaag, a barbarian warlord along the lines typical of sword and sorcery or historical fiction. Again, this means a character who’s not particularly well developed in any shape or form. He hates weakness, thinks he’s the strong man, and ends up getting broken down by the real villain of the story. Not all that interesting.
On the other hand, Creshinibon is. Like the One Ring, Creshinibon is a character in of itself, though to an extent that is far more evident than in Lord of the Rings, where the One Ring was explicitly not an independent being but rather an extension of Sauron’s will. Unlike the One Ring, Creshinibon is an artifact with its own agenda and goals, which may or may not match those of its allies. In fact, the most interesting part of the villain interactions in The Crystal Shard is the fact that Creshinibon is playing everyone against each other. It cares no more for Errtu the powerful balor than it does Kessel the lowly mage’s apprentice, using both for its own gain.
And unlike the One Ring, Creshinibon can actually turn its bearer into a power for change, whereas the One Ring got stuck with Gollum for several centuries. That’s not to say that Creshinibon is inherently better than the One Ring. After all, it is in some ways a copy cat (though it doesn’t so much seem to corrupt its users as give them the means to make their ambitions a reality). But it is interesting and it makes an unusual villain.
All in all, the quality of characters in The Crystal Shard varies wildly. On the one hand, Drizzt makes an engaging hero and Regis complements him nicely with Errtu and Creshinibon providing two strong villains. On the other hand, the intended hero, Wulfgar, is somewhat lackluster and the chief villain Kessel is, frankly, downright pathetic. So, in the end, how much you enjoy the characters of The Crystal Shard depends largely upon how much emphasis you put on its strengths, versus its weaknesses.
Score:7.3 (out of 10)
Prose
As in the case of Sojourn, this is where Salvatore really stands out and where the appeal of his novels is enormously easy to see. I have come across few writers who can so easily capture the attention of an audience as Salvatore, whose prose is outright outstanding. Even though his characters can sometimes be shallow and his stories generic, Salvatore’s writing style exceeds virtually everything else on the market, as least in the quality of its prose.
As in Sojourn, the quality of the fight scenes is admirable. It is very, very hard to right combat in prose without either using too few details or giving too much. Salvatore really hits the sweet spot, making his fight scenes dramatic and engaging in a way I aspire to in my writing. It’s easy to imagine the fights, easy to see Drizzt dancing through combat with his twin blades, easy to see Wulfgar shake off the blows of giants or fell a mighty dragon. That is an accomplishment.
And the quality of prose doesn’t really end with the action sequences. Throughout the entire novel, Salvatore’s voice rings with a sincerity and descriptive clarity. This is not, however, to be sure the prose of a Tolkein. Where Salvatore shines is not in making layered and beautiful volumes of purple prose but in delivering information in short, terse bites that are easy to digest. It’s more Hemmingway than Tolkein.
Overall, the simple but engaging prose is the single best thing about The Crystal Shard and what sets it apart from most other fantasy works I’ve read
Score: 9.0 (out of 10)
Summary
Plot: 6.7
Characters: 7.3
Prose: 9.0
Overall: 7.7